"Well, he can make an exception, right, Todd?"
"Keep out of this," Todd snapped.
"I hid you away in that house because you asked me to hide you away—" Maxine went on, her recollections delivered in the direction of the spectators. "You needed time to heal."
"I'm warning you," Todd said.
Maxine went on, unintimidated. "As I recall," she said, "your face looked like a piece of hammered steak, thanks to Doctor Burrows."
"All right, you win," Todd said. "Just stop right there."
"Why? They already know the truth, Todd. The whole town's been gossiping about your Phantom of the Opera act for weeks."
"Shut up, Maxine."
"No, Todd, I will not shut up. I've kept your fucking secrets for years, and I'm not going to do it any longer."
"Perhaps we should just go, Todd," Tammy said.
"Don't waste your breath on him," Maxine said. "He's not going to sleep with you. That's what you're hoping for, isn't it?"
"God," Tammy said. "You people."
"Don't deny it," Maxine snapped.
"Well, I am denying it. You think the world revolves around sex. It's pathetic."
"Anyway, I didn't," Todd said, as though he wanted to be sure that Maxine was not misled on the subject.
Something about his eagerness to have this particular fact set straight distressed Tammy. She knew why. He was ashamed of her. Damn him! Still concerned about his stupid reputation.
Maxine must have seen the anger and disappointment on Tammy's face, because the rage in her own voice mellowed. "Don't let him hurt you," she said. "He's not worth it. Really he's not. It's just that he doesn't want them up there"—she jabbed her finger in the direction of the house— "thinking he'd ever sink so low as to sleep with the likes of you. Isn't that right, Todd? You don't want people thinking you fucked the fat girl?"
The knife turned a second time in Tammy. She wished the beach would just open up beneath her and swallow her, so she'd never have to see any of these people ever again.
But there was still enough self-esteem left in her to challenge the sonofabitch. What had she got to lose?
"Is that right, Todd?" she said. "Are you ashamed of me?"
"Oh Jesus . . ." Todd shook his head, then cast a furtive glance at the house. There were probably sixty people on the patio and balconies now, enjoying the spectacle below.
"You know what?" he said. "Fuck both of you."
With that he turned his back on Tammy and Maxine and started to walk off down the beach. But Maxine wasn't going to let him get away so easily. "We didn't finish talking about your healing, Todd."
"Leave it, Maxine—"
"The operation? The one to make you look a few years younger? The face-lift ?"
He swung around at her. "I said: leave it or I will sue your fucking ass."
"On what grounds? I'm just telling the truth. You're an arrogant, spoiled, talentless—"
Todd stopped his retreat. His face looked blotchy in the light thrown from the house; there was a tic beneath the left side of his mouth. The expression of empty despair on his mis-made face silenced Maxine. Todd looked past both the women at the crowd that was watching all this unfold.
Then he started to yell.
"Have you had enough? Well? Have you? She's right! It's all true! I did get a fucking face-lift. You know why? That cunt! Eppstadt! Yes, you, you fucking Quasimodo! You!"
Eppstadt had found a prime grandstand position to watch the encounter between Todd and Maxine, so there were plenty of eyes turned in his direction now. He didn't like the scrutiny any more than Todd had. He shook his head and waved Todd's accusations away, then turned his back and tried to disappear into the crowd.
But Todd kept on haranguing him. "You're the freak here, you know that?" Todd yelled. "You fuck with our lives, you fuck with our heads. Well, you're not going to fuck with me anymore, because I'm not playing your game anymore. Hear me? I'm not playing!"
Todd suddenly ran at the patio and reached up through the railing to catch hold of Eppstadt's pants leg. Eppstadt turned on him.
"Get your hands off me!" he shouted, kicking at Todd as though he were a crazed dog.
Todd simply pulled harder on his leg, so that Eppstadt had to grab hold of somebody beside him to stop himself falling over. His face was white with fury. The assault went to the very heart of his dignity; this was a living nightmare for him, the mad-dog actor, the audience of people who despised him, all drinking his embarrassment down like a fine champagne.
"You ain't getting away so easy, ugly-boy!" Todd said. "We're all in this together."
"Pickett! Let go of me!" Eppstadt demanded. His voice had become shrill with rage, beads of sweat popping out all over his face. "You hear me? Let me go!"
"When I'm done," Todd said. He pulled on Eppstadt again, dragging him a few inches closer. "You miserable fucking shit. How many people have you told to get their faces fixed, huh?"
"You were looking old," Eppstadt said.
"I was looking old? Ha! Look at you!"
"I'm not a movie star."
"No, and neither am I. I'm over all that. You know why? I've seen where they go, Eppstadt. All the beautiful people, the stars. I've seen where they end up."
"Forest Lawn?"
"Oh no. They're not in graves, Eppstadt. That's too easy. They're still out there. The ghosts. Still thinking some fuck like you will give them another chance."
"Will somebody get this crazy sonofabitch off me?" Eppstadt shrieked.
One of the waiters went down on his haunches in front of the railing, took hold of Todd's hands and started pulling off his fingers one by one. "You better let go, man," the waiter quietly warned, "or I'm going to start hurtin' you. And I don't want to do that."
Todd ignored him. He simply hauled on Eppstadt, which threw the older man off-balance. The woman Eppstadt had been holding on to also toppled, and would have come down hard had the crowd around her not been so thick. Eppstadt was not so lucky, however. The people in his immediate vicinity had moved away as soon as Todd had caught hold of his leg. Down he went, catching the waiter a blow with his knee as he fell, so that the other man was also sent sprawling.
Todd dragged Eppstadt toward the edge of the patio. There wasn't a single witness to all of this who, knowing Eppstadt, didn't take pleasure in the indignity they saw being visited on the man. People he'd scorned and made to look like fools were now all silently hoping this farce would escalate.
But Eppstadt was made of sterner stuff. He kicked at his attacker, the first blow striking Todd's shoulder, the second hitting his nose and mouth, a brutal blow. Todd let go of Eppstadt and fell back on the sand, blood pouring from both nostrils, like two faucets switched on full power.
Eppstadt scrambled to his feet, yelling: "I want that man arrested! Right now! Right! Now!"
Todd looked up from his sprawl, his hand going to his face, coming away red. A hundred faces now stared down at him. There wasn't a person at the party—whether bartender, guest, waiter, toilet attendant or valet—who had not forsaken the house to come out and see what all the hubbub was about. They were all staring down at the famous, bloody face on the sand, and the sprawled Eppstadt on the patio. Scandal didn't get much better than this; this was a story to dine out on for years.
A few people had come down onto the sand, on the pretext of helping Todd, perhaps, but actually, of course, to see better what was going on and so have a clearer account for later. Nobody lent Todd a hand; not even Tammy. She had retreated some distance, unwilling to provide these witless fools with something else to laugh at.