” — when I send you money.”
“Don’t start that.”
“Why not? You sit there tellin’ me what a fuck-up I am, but you never said no to the cash when you needed it. Which is all the time. Who paid your last legal bills, Donnie? And the mortgage on the house so you could start over with Linda, for the third time or fourth time or whatever it was? Who paid for that mistake?”
He let the question hang there, unanswered. Eventually, very quietly, Donnie said: “This is so fucked. I came here — ”
” — to see whether I was dead or alive.”
” — to look after you.”
“You never cared before,” Todd said, with painful bluntness. “Well did you? All these years, when have you ever come out here and spent time with me?”
“I was never welcome.”
“You were always welcome. You just never came because you were too fucking jealous. Why don’t you admit it? At least once, between us, say it: you were so fucking jealous you couldn’t stand the idea of coming out here.”
“You know what? I don’t need to hear this,” Donnie said.
“You should have heard it years ago.”
“I’m outta here.”
“Go on. You did your gloating. Now you can go home and tell everyone what an asshole your brother is.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Donnie said. “You’re still my brother, whatever you do. But I can’t help you if you surround yourself — ”
” — with ass-kissers. Yeah. You said that.”
Todd heard Donnie get up and cross to the door, dragging his feet as he always had.
“What are you doing?” Todd said.
“I’m leaving. Like I said I would. You’re going to be fine. That faggot Burrows will take very good care of you.”
“Don’t I get a hug or something?”
“Another time. When I like you better,” Donnie said.
“And when the hell will that be?” Todd yelled after him.
But all he got by way of reply was the echo of his own voice off the opposite wall.
THREE
Maxine turned up a little after seven, and after a few perfunctory expressions of relief that Todd was ‘back from the dead’, as she indelicately put it, quickly moved on to the news she was here to debate.
“Somebody in this place has a big mouth,” she said. “I got a call from the editor of the Enquirer this afternoon, asking if it was true that you’d been admitted to a private hospital. I told him absolutely not; this was a lie, garbage etc. etc. And I said that if he published that you were in hospital or anything vaguely resembling that, we’d sue him and his wretched rag. Ten seconds later I’ve got Peter Bart calling from Variety, asking the same damn question. And while I’m on with Peter, trying not to tell him an out-and-out lie ’cause he has a nose for bullshit, I have a call from People on the other line, asking the same question. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
Todd moaned behind his mask of bandages.
“I’ve told Burrows we have to move you,” Maxine went on.
“Wait, Donnie said yesterday you told him that you wanted me to stay here.”
“That was before I got the calls. Now it’s just a matter of time before some photographer finds his way in here.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
“That would make a nice little picture, wouldn’t it?” Maxine said, just in case Todd hadn’t already got a snap-shot in his mind’s eye. “You lying in bed with your face all bandaged up.”
“Wait!” Todd said, “They’d never be able to prove it was me.”
“The point is: it is you, Todd. Whoever’s put out the word about your being here is working in this building. They’ve probably got access to your records, your charts — ”
Todd felt a spasm of the same panic that had seized him when he’d first woken up. The horror of being trapped. This time he governed it, determined not to let Maxine see him losing control.
“So when are you getting me out of here?” he said.
“I’ve got a car coming at five tomorrow morning. I’ve told Burrows I want the security in this place tripled ’til you leave. We’ll take you to the beach house in Malibu until we find somewhere more practical.”