Glamorama - Page 165/233

"Edgar," I say, leaning into him, breathing heavily. "I don't think that was me."

"Well, whoever it was, he was..." Edgar flinches, moves away slightly. "He was extremely, um, well-behaved and... I actually must be off. Later, Victor." He disappears into the nothingness of the party.

I'm hot even though steam keeps pouring from my mouth with every exhale and "Beyond"-the word that shows up in my dreams-keeps flashing over the party, buzzing electric near the ceiling. It seems that every one in this room has been here for ten hours.

"It's not fun to scare people away, is it, Victor?" Felix, the cinematographer, suddenly appears, wearing a chartreuse jacket with little epaulets on the shoulders. His subsequent wink is some kind of cue. I'm trying to recover and failing.

"I suppose," I manage.

The director, whom I didn't notice, makes himself more apparent by standing in front of me and staring grimly.

"A stellar evening," he says.

"What?" I ask, and then, "Oh. I suppose."

"Is something wrong?" the director asks. "Is something troubling you, Victor?"

"No, um, I'm just overwhelmed."

"Well, you have a lot to live up to, right?"

"Yes, that's right." I'm nodding. "And I'm freaking out because of it."

"Victor," he starts.

"Yes?"

"Who have you been holding court with recently?" the director asks. "I mean, besides the people in the house."

"Oh... no one." I shrug. "Just... me."

"What was going on in the Louvre this morning?" Felix suddenly asks. "Dimity, the PA, mentioned you were being followed around by a camera crew.

"Dimity has no idea what she's talking about," I say, finding my voice. "Even though she is, in her own... way, quite, um, a wonderful"-I gulp-"person."

"We would also like to know what happened to the actor playing Sam Ho," the director says without warning. "Do you have any idea concerning his whereabouts?"

The name-Sam Ho-resonates dully, and briefly I'm transports back to the gym in the basement of that house in London, Jamie screaming, Bobby in a ski mask, Bruce holding a knife, the blood and wires, the flickering lights, the gutted mannequin, the party we went t the next night and the girl who ignored me there.

"I don't want to talk about... the past," I manage to say. "Let's concentrate on the pr-pr-present."

"You were the last one with the actor after you left Pylos," Felix says "You were supposed to stay with the limo once you exited the club."

Pause. "Well...," I start. "Have you talked to the... driver?"

"We've been unable to locate him as well," the director says. "What happened that night, Victor?"

"Victor, did Sam Ho come back to the house with you that night?" Felix asks. "This is very important, so think carefully."

"No, he did not," I say, straining, flushed.

"You're lying," the director snaps.

"I'm profoundly insulted by that remark."

"Oh Jesus," he sneers.

"Victor," Felix says calmly, though his attitude seems menacing. "What happened to Sam Ho that night? After the two of you left Pylos?"

"He... started coming on to me-"

"But where were you going?" the director asks, advancing closer. "Why didn't you stay outside the club? The crew was outside. They said they saw you run to the limousine. They said it took off screeching."

"Do you really think I'm going to make some kind of-I don't know-surprise announcement concerning where... I mean, Jesus..."

"Where did the two of you go?"

"I don't know," I say, crumpling. "We... went for a ride... at Sam's request... and we... were going for a ride... to another club, I think." I start squinting, pretending to think. "I don't really remember... I think Bobby told me to bring him back to the house but-"

Felix and the director shoot glances at each other.

"Wait," the director says. "Bobby told you to bring Sam back?"

"Yeah," I say. Following Felix's gaze, I see Bobby across the room.

Bobby's looking fresh and relaxed and lights a cigarette Cameron Diaz is holding and he glances over at me and, when he sees who I'm talking to, does a very casual double take and excuses himself from the group he's standing with, people I can't even recognize because of how blurry my vision has rapidly become.