I light a cigarette in disgust, and as I do, the door to the green room opens (that damn Constance probably locked me in), and Hubert comes in with Dianna Moon, who for some strange reason rushes over to me and throws her arms around me like a two-year-old, nearly knocking the cigarette out of my hand.
"I've always wanted to meet you," she gushes. Then she stands back and says, "You are as pretty as everyone says." She takes my hand and says, "I hope we can be really good friends.”
I want to hate her but I can't, at least not right then.
"Constance told me you were here," Hubert says lamely. "And Dianna said she wanted to meet you.”
“I was hoping you might be able to have lunch,”
I say. Wondering, Is it me or is his Dianna comment subtly hostile?
"Let’s all have lunch together. At one of those Ladies Who Lunch places," Dianna says. "I'm feeling very, very ladyish today.”
"Can't," Hubert says casually. "Bob and I have a standing invitation for lunch every Wednesday.”
“Oh really," I say.
"Of course, there's no way you would have known that," Hubert says. "If you'd called before you came....”
"Oh, who's this damn Bob person? Blow him off," Dianna says. "Tell him you're having lunch with me. I'm sure Bob will understand.”
"He'll understand, but he's the head of The Network," Hubert says.
"But don't you want to have lunch with your wife?" Dianna asks, in what seems to be genuine confusion. "She's so pretty....”
"We hardly ever see each other," I say in a completely neutral tone, pulling on my gloves.
"Norman and I used to spend every minute together," Dianna says. "Every minute. We couldn't get enough of each other. We were obsessed. We'd spend days and days together in bed...." She screws her face up. "I miss him. I miss him so much. No one really understands." And then she begins to cry. Hubert and I look at each other in alarm. Hubert does nothing. I cough politely into my glove.
"He was the greatest love of my life. My only love. I don't think I'll ever be able to date anyone, even,”
she says, although it's a well-known fact that she is at the moment not only dating someone (the head of a movie studio) but, according to Star magazine, living with him (or at least leaving all her stuff at his house), but if s clear the tears are just part of her little performance, because she suddenly grabs my hand again and says, "Well, at least you'll have lunch with me. I just can't be alone right now.”
Hubert looks relieved. "Why don't you go to Cipriani's? The Network will pick up the tab, of course,”
he says, adding, "Cecelia, just be sure to bring me the receipt, okay?”
And I just stare at him in horror, not believing that he is saddling me with this woman and treating me like some kind of ... EMPLOYEE, for God's sake. "I'll have Constance make the arrangements," he says. And just at that moment, Constance walks into the room and appears to "immediately sum up the situation.”
"I'll call Giuseppe," she says, nodding at Hubert. "I'll tell them to be expecting you. That way you won't have to wait.”
"I never have to wait. Anywhere," I say to Constance, not believing her insubordination. I look at Hubert for confirmation, or at least some kind of support, but all he can do is smile uncomfortably.
"Well. Good-bye then," I say coldly.
"I'll see you later. At home," he says, like I'm annoying him or something.
"Right. I'll make that phone call," Constance says, looking at Hubert but not actually going anywhere. "Slater was a real comedian today, wasn't he?" she says, like she and Hubert are the only ones in the room. "It's all because of that damn Monique. That’s what you get for dating a child. Except now if s our problem." And then she actually touches Hubert's arm. Specifically, his bicep.
I was right. He is having an affair with Constance. "Who was that fucking bitch?" Dianna demands as she falls into the limo. "Christ. If I were you I would have smacked her. Listen, honey, rule number one: Never let any other bitch mess with your man. Because, guaranteed, that bitch is after your man. If you knew how many women I had to beat up, I mean, literally beat the FUCK off Norman, you wouldn't believe it.”
I want to say that I would believe it, since Dianna Moon's barroom brawls are legendary, but I am either too afraid or too polite or too pissed off at Hubert right now to say anything, so I just nod and light a cigarette, which Dianna grabs out of my hand and begins smoking rapidly with large gestures. "I nearly cut a bitch's tit off once, did you know that?”
“Actually, I didn't," I say, lighting another cigarette, figuring that surely even she can't smoke two cigarettes at the same time. "If s true," she says. "Bitch wanted to sue, but Norman and me, we had the biggest, most powerful lawyers you could get in show business.”
She sits back against the gray leather seat. I stare at her, unable to help myself. Her face is at once beautiful and ugly, the ugly part being original and the beauty the result of skilled plastic surgeons. "Yep," she says. "Everybody loved Norman. I mean everyone. The first time I saw him on that movie set—it was in the desert—I knew I'd seen Jesus. And everybody else knew it too." She turns to me and takes my hand. "That’s why I love Jesus so much right now, Cecelia. I love Jesus because I've seen Jesus. Right here on earth. He was only here for a short period of time, just enough to make three movies that grossed over a hundred million dollars. But he touched everyone, and once he'd touched everyone, he knew it was time to go back up to heaven.
So he went.”
"But—didn't Jesus consider suicide a sin?" I say, wondering how much more of this I can take and if Hubert and Constance are having lunch and whether or not if s some secret love-nest lunch place that they go to practically every day where Hubert says things like "I love you, but my wife is crazy.”
Dianna stares into my eyes. "He didn't commit suicide, Cecelia. Norman's death, as you may have suspected, was a complete mystery. No one knows exactly how he died. They don't even know what time he died....”
"But surely," I say, "modern medicine ...”
“Oh no," Dianna says. "Modern medicine is not as modern as everyone thinks. There are some things even the doctors can't figure out....”
Yes, I can't help thinking, and you are one of them. "Like the fact that his body wasn't found for four days.”
"And," I say, unable to help myself, "weren't parts of it missing? Eaten by wild animals?”
Dianna looks out the window. "That’s what everyone thinks," she says finally. "But the truth is ...
the body parts may have been carried off by ... special disciples.”
Oh dear.
"I'm almost certain my husband is having an affair," I say.
"And these special disciples, they're really ...”
“With Constance. That bitch.”
" ... they're like angels, sort of. Sent down to kind of watch over him but ...”
"And I really don't know what to do about it," I say.
" ... the fact is that several people, I mean several people, think these special disdples are some kind of ...”
"I suppose I have to think about divorce.”
“Aliens," Dianna says.
I just stare at her.
She leans toward me. "You do believe Norman was Jesus, don't you, Cecelia? Please say yes. Please. Because I really want us to be best friends. I could use a best friend in this town, you know?”
Luckily, at this moment the limo pulls up in front of Cipriani's.
After a more-than-usual amount of fuss, we're shown to a table in the front of the restaurant by the window. There are whispers all around us: "That princess ... Cecelia ... who's that woman? .. . Oh, Dianna Moon ... Norman Childs ... Dianna Moon and ... Luxenstein ... Prince Hubert Luxenstein ...