Chet Williamson - Reign

Evan looked up too, but could see no trace of movement in the shadows above. "My father," he said at last.

"Mr. Hamilton?" Abe looked up again, took a few steps to one side, then back again. "I don't see nobody. Mr. Hamilton?" he called, but there was no answer. "Don't hear nothin' neither. Catwalk squeals like a bitch. Somebody walkin' up there you'd know it. Hey, Mr. Hamilton!" he called again, but there was no reply, no sound of anyone moving above.

"He must have left another way," Evan said. He was still trembling, and hated himself for it, hated himself for not dying if he had to, not taking the old man over the rail with him. Your majesty! Jesus sweet Christ, what was wrong with him?

"Other way? Only other way's across the ceiling into the projection booth," Abe said. "Lights're off and it's dark as hell up there. Man'd have to be a fool to go walkin' on the ceilin' catwalk in the dark. One wrong step and…"

Abe didn't have to say any more. The picture of Robin's crushed body was vivid in both their minds. "I don't know, Abe. Maybe… maybe he had a flashlight," Evan said, looking at his own flashlight he had somehow hung on to through his ordeal.

"Maybe so," Abe said. "Don't know, though. Still seems crazy."

Crazy was the word, Evan thought as he went to find Curt. He wouldn't go up in the flies again. He didn't think he could bear to climb those stairs, not now, not after what had happened.

Halfway up the aisle of the theatre he changed his mind. It was Sid he would look for, not Curt. He had always been able to talk to Sid while he was growing up, and he wanted to talk to him now, to tell him about how crazy Dennis had acted. Sid's suite was just across the hall from Dennis's, but he would be careful. He didn't think he could bear to see his father again, not so soon after that horrible confrontation.

Terri Deems was in the lobby as he passed through it on his way to the elevator. He thought she looked different, then realized that it was the first time he had ever seen her smile. "Hi," she said, and stopped as if she wanted to talk. He slowed, unsure of her intentions. "What are you up to?"

"Uh… looking for Sid."

"He's in the office. I just came from there."

"Thanks."

He started off, when she called after him. "Hey, why the hurry? I wanted to ask you something."

"Uh, okay. What?"

"I was just thinking maybe we could go out."

"Go out?"

"You know – boy, girl, go out, date… what you mentioned to me a few weeks ago."

Was this the same girl? "That was a few months ago, and you… didn't seem too thrilled with the idea."

"That was then, this is now. I was rude. I'm sorry. I've had second thoughts.”

“Well… sure. That'd be great."

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"You have other plans?" she asked in a tone that told him he would be a fool to.

"No, no, not at all. Dinner?"

"Fine."

"Shall I pick you up?"

"With what? You don't have a car."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I'll be at your place. You're in a third floor suite, right?"

"Right." He thought for a second. "How about the Kirkland Inn?"

She smiled a smile that would have melted butter. "That would be perfect," she said, and headed out the door.

God, he thought, yin and yang. It seemed that whenever something awful happened, something good happened too. Curt may be right, he thought. Terri Deems might be a pain in the ass. But what a nice ass it was.

He tried to clear his head of her, and went to find Sid.

As Terri had said, Sid was in the office talking to Donna Franklin. When Evan told him that he'd like to see him in private, Donna told them to stay there in her office while she stepped into Steinberg's. "Sid," said Evan when they were alone, "I'm worried about my dad."

"Nothing's changed then. You've always worried about him."

"This is different. He was up in the flies today. He threatened to throw me off.”

“Are you sure? You didn't misunderstand him?"

"I'm sure. He wanted me to call him 'your majesty.'"

Sid shook his head. "Did you do anything to piss him off?"

"I… well, yeah, I guess so." And briefly Evan filled in Sid on the confrontation in Dennis's suite.

"That wasn't very smart, kid. You dad's private life is his own affair, you know that"

"Yeah, I know. But goddammit, I just saw red. So soon after Robin's death and all."

"It's been six weeks. And your dad's always been one to pick up pieces quickly. The Emperor in him, I guess."

"That was the weirdest thing, Sid. That was what really… scared the hell out of me. He called himself the Emperor. Up in the suite he was one way, but on the catwalk – it was like he was somebody else."

Sid put an avuncular hand on Evan's shoulder. "Kid, your dad's gone through a helluva lot lately. We all have. You take three deaths – one your wife – and combine them with this project we've all gambled our lives on, and you think you're gonna be totally normal? It's just a job to you, pal. It's Dennis's life. Give him slack."

"Sid, he threatened to kill me."

"He's done that before. Not to you, maybe, but to other people who pissed him off. He's never carried it through, though." Sid smiled. "Leastways, not that I know of. He flies off the handle…” The smile turned to a puzzled frown. "Or he used to. God, I haven't seen him explode in ages. You must have touched a sore spot.”

“He even said…” Evan paused.

"What?"

"That I wasn't his son."

Sid sat for a minute, staring at Evan. Finally he shook his head. "That's bullshit. Believe me, I know. I was there, pal. Right after they were married, Dennis didn't want to let your mom out of his sight. And when he did, I was right there. If anything funny had gone on, I'd have known about it."

"You're right. You're probably right. But he just seemed so crazy

… I don't know, maybe I should just get the hell away from here."

"Maybe you should stay. You might be able to help him."

"Help him? How?"

"He needs stability right now. Maybe he's looking back at the days when he was the Emperor, thinking that things were better then, simpler. Play the role and that's it. He needs to have people around him who care, Evan. Robin's death's has left a helluva gap. We've all got to try and help to fill it."

Evan walked to the window and looked down at the tree-lined street. "Why, Sid? Why do we have to?"

"Because he's a good man. A generous man. And because we love him.”

“You really think that's true? You think he's good?"

"Yeah, I do. He works his heart out when the telethon comes along each year. And in the past twenty years he's given away millions. Literally millions.”

“I never knew that."

"Nobody does except us and the IRS. He doesn't want it publicized. But there's another thing – if this musical theatre project works out it's going to mean work for hundreds of show people. It's a damn good cause." Evan didn't speak. "Hang around, kid. He needs you, really."

"All right. For a while. I don't know what I can do, though."

"Just don't piss him off again. Let him go, even if you think he's wrong. He's got to work some things out on his own. But be there when he needs you.”

“All right, Sid. Thanks for listening."

"Hey, anytime." He gave the boy a hug.

"Curt's gonna wonder where the hell I am," Evan said, and went to the door. "So long, Sid."

"See you, kid."

Kid, he thought as he watched the boy leave. Yeah. My kid?

Sid felt his gut cramp and wondered if he had been able to keep the look of shock off his face when Evan had dropped the bombshell. If Evan's reaction was honest, he had. That's what came of once having been an actor.

One hot afternoon and one drink too many, and he had lived with the guilt all his life. Dennis had been in New York meeting with John Steinberg, and Sid was left alone with Natalie Pierce, Dennis's wife of three months. She was a few years older than Sid, but ravishingly good looking, and when she asked him to sit with her at poolside and talk, he had done so willingly, and had made them both several drinks.