Part 24 (1/2)
”Don't do a Chamberlain on me. I've had it up to here with that.” Helen drew a line across her forehead. ”If you want to bail out, fine. All of you can, but I'll be there.”
Marty sat up. ”This means a lot to you, doesn't it?”
”Everything and nothing.” She tossed the cane to the floor. ”Not anymore, I guess.”
”Explain.”
”What's to explain? Marty, I miss Cory so much.” Helen cried and Marty held her.
”Call her, sweetheart.”
”I've tried. She doesn't return my calls.” Helen moved away. ”Can I stay with you tonight? I don't want to sleep alone.”
”Sure.”
Helen moved closer when Marty snuggled against her back. Warm waves of breath relaxed her neck and she smelled a fragrance of Coco Chanel, number unknown. She wasn't Cory, but Marty was comforting. She wondered how she'd slept alone for all those years after Chelsea.
”Are you scared, Helen?”
Helen laughed. ”You're the one who should be scared. You're my fantasy woman.”
Marty kissed the back of Helen's neck. ”I know I'm not the woman you want. I meant, are you afraid of being alone?”
”I've done alone. I'm afraid of never feeling Cory's arms around me again.”
Helen dreamed and Cory stepped toward the inferno.
”Cory!”
Finally, her seat belt now released, Helen rushed to her, grabbed her arm, and swung her around. The bouncing, the screaming, and the screeching stopped. The fire backdrafted. Cory looked into Helen's eyes.
”We're safe?” she asked.
Helen pulled her into her arms. ”We're safe, baby. We're all right.”
Chapter Twenty-five.
Show time.
The night was a shelter from Helen's thoughts of Cory. Backstage at the Stanwyck Theater, nervous excitement charged the air. The men, Helen couldn't figure them out. To them, it seemed just another night, as they sat together in their dressing room, discussing the Knicks and the Rangers. But the women were flying. Dresses went on and came off. Jenny forgot a b.u.t.ton and a zipper needed mending. Frazzled, Marty was soaked with perspiration, and her hair frizzed to the appearance of an aged dandelion.
Stacey watched the commotion from a sofa, apparently entertained by their nervous energies.
”Sure,” Helen said to her, ”be amused.”
”I'm gonna pop her one,” Kim said, sans smile, while she struggled with her panty hose. ”These stupid things. Did a man develop these?”
”Good grief, Kim. They stretch,” Stacey said. ”Just pull them up.”
”That's it.” Kim jumped on Stacey's lap and pinched her cheeks. ”I've had enough of you tonight.”
”It got you on my lap.” Stacey grinned.
”Pig.” Kim jumped down and continued to wrestle with her panty hose.
”Okay, ladies,” Helen announced to her clattering collection of feminine folly. ”Jackie, are you finished with makeup?”
Jackie added the last touch to Marty. ”All set.”
”The house is full and I'm shaking like a leaf.” Helen stared at Jenny. ”Are you all right?”
”I think I'm gonna throw up.” Jenny clutched her mouth and headed toward the bathroom with no time to spare.
”I hope that isn't an indication of the way the rest of the night's going to end up.” Marty strutted up to each woman and kissed her cheek. ”Break a leg, girls.”
Helen held up her cane. ”Don't say that.”
”Three minutes, ladies,” their stage manager yelled through the door. ”Get to the wing, Helen.”
Helen's pulse quickened. ”Come with me, Marty.” She took Marty's hand and turned to the women. She looked them over. Jenny came out of the bathroom, pale. ”This is it. Relax and have fun out there. We can do it.”
It seemed a long walk to the wing. Marty was silent. Helen thought about her sonata and wondered if Cory was anywhere near the city.
”Are you ready, Helen?” Paul asked.
”Yes.” She peeked from behind the curtain to an auditorium whose size suddenly seemed to equal that of Shea Stadium. ”Jesus,” she whispered. The lights dimmed. A man's voice boomed throughout the auditorium. Helen flinched.
”Ladies and gentlemen,” he paused, ”your host for this evening,” another pause, ”whose hometown is really Brewster-” The audience laughed with his added piece of trivia.
”Who told him that?” Helen whispered hoa.r.s.ely to Marty, who also laughed.
”New York's favorite columnist, Helen Townsend.”
”Luck, sweetheart.” Marty kissed her.
Helen took a deep breath and walked on stage to the dais. A burst of thunderous, rolling applause shocked her. She was never on the receiving end of such a welcome, only ever a bearer. There was no wonder left to why celebrities had egos.
Helen couldn't help but smile. She glanced around the now-darkened auditorium and waited for silence.
”Thank you and welcome. This is a special night for the cast and production crew. Our show will benefit children with AIDS, and your full admission charge will be donated.” More applause. Now was the tough part. She waited once more for quiet.
”Before we begin, we have an announcement.”