Jack O'Connell - The Skin Palace

Sylvia stares at the scene through the camera until she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns to see the soundman holding a slip of paper up in front of her face. She takes it from his hand and he moves off without a word. She opens the paper and reads

I’m downstairs

and I can’t stay long

— Leni

The theatre is in darkness. Even the aisle lights have been turned off. Sylvia stands in the doorway and tries to spot some movement. She walks down the center aisle until she can turn back and look up into the balcony. But she can’t see a thing. She suddenly feels like she’s at the bottom of an enormous swimming pool filled with black ink. Finally she lets out a whispered yell.

“Leni?”

There’s no answer, but that horrible waltzing Muzak starts to play at the wrong speed through the faulty sound system. She’s too tired to find anything funny in Leni’s games tonight.

“Just knock it off,” she yells.

The screen fills up with light. Above Sylvia’s head, in the shaft of movie-beam, she sees countless particles of dust drifting through the air. She follows the shaft to the screen. She watches black numbers, numbers as big as houses, run onto and off the screen. Then there’s a cloudy image that takes a maddeningly long minute to focus. When it does come clear, she’s watching something familiar — a young woman, naked and sleek, watching her own beautiful reflection in a huge, oval, gilt-framed mirror. It’s that stupid soft-core flick that Perry and she saw at the Cansino Drive-in last week. The Meyer Dodgson film, The Initiation of Alice. But this is a lousy print of it. The image is jumping all over the screen and the focus cuts in and out. It looks like a pirated print, maybe even one of those street-cuts they shoot right off the screen with a video camera.

Why the hell does Leni want her to see this?

She slides into an aisle seat. She doesn’t really remember this part of the movie. It seems like some kind of overly artsy dream sequence. Alice’s reflection is replaced in the mirror by three muscular lovers. She steps through the mirror into their waiting arms and a languid, gauzy mingling begins as the heroine gives herself over completely to three pairs of stroking hands and roving mouths.

And then the point of view gets completely confused. It’s as if the cameraman lost hold of his equipment. There’s a stuttering jump from the lovemaking on the screen and into the darkness and then out of darkness and onto a neon sign that reads

The Cansino Drive-In Theatre

Adult Films Nightly

$10.00/Carload

Whoever stole this movie took it from the same drive-in screen that Perry and Sylvia watched it on. They must have filmed from one of the trees that borders the back end of the car lot.

Her stomach begins to slide into a horrible clench, as if she’s willed what she knows is about to come. The camera begins to pan over the rooftops of all the cars in the parking lot. It shoots the roofs of the Chevys and Chryslers and a lot of vans and pickups. Sylvia sees young couples sitting and lying on the hoods and trunks, laughing, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and joints, eating popcorn and the horrible microwave pizza from the concession stand.

And she knows where the camera is going to move next. She knows it and can’t do anything to stop it. So she watches, helpless, frozen as the camera pulls farther back and the drive-in screen becomes that much smaller and the cinematographer finally finds the Skylark convertible with its top rolled back. The shot zooms in slowly.

There’s Perry. Naked below the waist, sitting in the backseat, his head lying over the crest of the seat, tilted toward the moon, his eyes closed, his lips pulled into his mouth.

And there’s Sylvia. Naked, mounted on top of him, chest to chest, her knees crushing into the seat, riding Perry, holding onto his head. There she is, twenty feet tall, having sex on the big screen of the Skin Palace.

A single set of applause breaks out and she jumps up from the seat and turns to see Leni behind her, staring up at the movie, her mouth smiling and her head shaking.

“You bitch,” is all Sylvia can think to say and Leni stops clapping but continues to stare at the screen.

“You’re looking like a real star up there, Sylvie.”

“Who did it?” Sylvia makes herself ask.

“Who do you think?” Leni says, coming down the aisle. “The Schickster always dogs his enemies—”

“I wasn’t his enemy—” Sylvia starts and Leni shakes her off.

“No, but your Perry was.” She pauses and adds, “You were just there.”

Sylvia looks up in the balcony to the projection booth. “Did you run it? Is anyone else up there?”

Leni puts a hand on her shoulder, lowers her voice. “Forget it, Sylvia. He had a dozen prints made before you two were back in your goddamn apartment.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Sylvia sees her face getting bigger on the screen, a tight shot as she builds toward climax. And here in the theatre, her hand comes up to take a slap at Leni’s face, but Leni catches her by the wrist and holds her arm up in the air.

“Sylvia,” Leni says, “I’m probably the only friend you’ve got in this pathetic city right now.”

“How do I thank you?”

Leni drops hold of the arm. “If Hugo knew I was down here showing you this he’d go crazy. He’d probably sic some of his muscleboys on me. This is one of his big chips, Sylvia. He needs it for the right moment. He needs to hand it to the media when Boetell and Perry make their move. He needs to humiliate them as soon as they start building steam. Your boyfriend sits down at a press conference to yell about the new crusade against filth, Hugo makes sure all the reporters present have a video-cassette of this,” pointing to the screen, “waiting on their desks by the time they get back to the Spy. Anti-smut lawyer stars in porno flick Great headline.”

“But it’s obvious we didn’t know this was being filmed.”

Leni looks up at the screen. “Maybe. But do you think that will matter?”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“No,” she says,“you didn’t. It’s a filthy world, Sylvia. The innocent get kicked a lot.”

“Why did you show it to me, Leni?”

“Thought I’d give you a little advance warning. So you could decide what to do.”

“My options are pretty limited.”

“Oh, c’mon, is it that bad?”

Sylvia looks at her and says, “Not for you …”

She lets the rest trail off and Leni says, “You’re embarrassing me with your gratitude, you know? I’ve got to get out of here.”

Leni steps back, turns and calls out into the rear darkness of the theatre, “Hey, Counselor, you’re up,” then she pats Sylvia on the shoulder and starts to walk for the exit.

Sylvia looks in the direction of the yell and sees someone getting up out of a seat near the last row underneath the balcony. She knows it’s Perry before she even sees his face in the light of the movie. He comes down the aisle awkwardly, hands in pocket, comes next to her and just stands there.

“You think we’ll get nominated?” Sylvia says, knowing he won’t get the reference.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Perry starts and Sylvia looks at the screen and shakes her head to shut him up.

“The thing is,” she says, “we’ve got such stiff competition. I hear The Perry and Candice Show has gotten rave reviews. Four stars. I hear you’re even better in that one.”

He closes his eyes. If he starts to cry she knows she’ll punch him right in the mouth.