Dark Terrors 3: The Gollancz Book of Horror

I downshifted, grinding gears, and kept moving.

The sky grew bright with the glow of her skin and the waterfall of blonde hair around her face. Her head bobbed up and down like a flesh-coloured Zeppelin looking for a place to land. As I got closer there were other colours too, drifting in and out of a long beam of light trained on the reservoir wall. The numbers were worn off the curb but I knew I had found Donn Hedgeman’s house. Who else would use the side of the Stone River Dam for a movie screen? I’d heard that his parties were legendary. The man had outdone himself this time.

I had to park halfway back down the canyon. Porsches and Jags and Mercedes-Benzes were wedged across every driveway between here and Sunset. Walking up, I saw two college boys in red vests on one of the sidestreets, waving flashlights like ushers at a movie premiere. Somehow I had missed the valet parking. It was just as well. My Toyota hadn’t been washed in months.

On foot, I could have found Donn’s house with my eyes closed. It was only eight o’clock but already the voices were so loud they might have been screaming, trapped in the canyon and magnified by the concrete dam at the end. Over the top of a redwood fence I noticed a sea of blonde coifs, all the same colour as the one in the sky. I opened the gate and let myself into the backyard, looking around for Donn.

‘Skippy!’

I ignored the voice and kept walking as if I knew where I was going. There was a kidney-shaped swimming pool lit by underwater floodlights, and a pink shape wavered near the bottom, distorted by the ripples. A group of men gathered around the edge, some in jackets and ties, others in T-shirts and jeans. They cheered as the swimmer surfaced, borne up by an inflated life jacket. Then I realized there was no life jacket. It was her breasts that were inflated. She arched her body, as if hoping to thrust her nipples high enough to catch the beam of the projector, then threw her head back and dove again, the polished lips of her vagina cleaving the water. The men hooted and applauded. I worked my way around the pool, and headed across the patio.

‘Skippy?’

There was a burst of flashguns inside the house, turning the glass walls of the rec room blue-white. I spotted a man with huge, frizzy hair next to a billiard table, surrounded by photographers. It had to be Donn.

Now someone grabbed my arm. I felt it caught between two balloons, as if held there by static electricity. I tried to shake them off and glanced over my shoulder.

A stunningly beautiful young woman clutched my arm to her bosom. Her vinyl dress was cut so low it looked like two bald men were trying to fight their way out the front.

‘You are!’ She got a look at my face and dug her long black fingernails into my sweater. ‘I knew it.!’

‘Hi.’

‘I had the biggest crush on you!’ She did not want to let go of my arm. ‘You were a lot cuter than that other dude, the one who played your brother. ’

‘Tony.’

I could have told her all about Tony Sargent. How he ended up with a habit so big he couldn’t get a job pushing a broom at the studio, how he started knocking off liquor stores with his old lady’s pantyhose pulled over his head, and how he blew his brains out the night she o.d.’d on the last of his smack. I didn’t want to burst her bubble. The show had been out of production since the late seventies but the reruns wouldn’t quit. As far as she was concerned I was still Skippy Boomer. She was not alone. At least she hadn’t asked for my autograph. Not yet.

‘Was that his name?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘A great guy.’ I nodded at the rec room, the way I learned to do it in acting class: the gesture first, then the line. ‘Is that Donn?’

‘Which one was he?’

‘The Hedge Man,’ I said. ‘This is his party, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Her face fell and I thought I caught a glimpse of something fading out behind the layers of make- up, something almost sad. Then she blinked at me, fluttering her false eyelashes. ‘You know Donn?’

‘Who doesn’t?’

‘He’s such a trip! I’d work for him any time…’

‘Excuse me,’ I told her, retrieving my arm. ‘I have to say hello.’

I made my way across the patio. The actress in the sky was emoting with mounting fervour, closing her shiny eyelids and tossing her head from side to side as if lost in an opium dream, but no one seemed to be watching. I saw an old theatre projector set up on the buffet table, with several film cans stacked next to it. The reel that was on now appeared to be near its end. I opened the sliding glass door and slipped inside, as the tail of the film clattered on to the takeup spool and the beam of light went white.

Donn was in the middle of an interview. A man with tattooed arms and a baseball cap squinted into a Hi-8 video-cam and stammered through a list of prepared questions, while three ridiculously gorgeous women stood on the sidelines and laughed at each of Donn’s jokes. He was the centre of attention, as always.

‘What’s your next project?’ I heard the young man ask.

‘Magic Fingers Motel, for Vulcano Video.’

The women whooped and clapped their hands.

‘Starring?’

‘Lo Ryder,’ said Donn without missing a beat, ‘Charmin, Kerry O’Quim…How’s that for a cast? Did I leave anyone out?’

‘Rosie Gates!’ shouted a beauty in leather hotpants.

Donn snapped his fingers and nodded, rolling his eyes. ‘Yeah, Rosie! Wait’ll you see the tush on that girl! I met her at the FOXE Awards. Says d.p.’s not enough — she wants to do triple penetration! Maybe I’ll let Rocco break her in!’

The gorgeous women cracked up.

‘Anything else?’

‘Lemme see. The Ram Doubler, Seven Come Eleven, Close Shavers Part Two, another Bun Boy’s Big Adventure. and of course WetWork, starring the fabulous Celestine Prophet!’

Donn shot a glance outside. Now only an empty square of light showed in the sky.

‘What the fuck?’ He put his hand up, blocking the lens of the camera. ‘That’s a wrap.’

He brushed past me on his way out to the patio.

‘Hey, Skipper,’ he said under his breath. ‘Stay right where you are. We got business to talk about. ’

The gorgeous women started out after him. A fourth, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, had been lingering in the background, watching from the hallway. Now she stepped out of the shadows and followed tentatively, as though afraid to be seen. She hesitated by the door.

‘Pardon me,’ she said shyly, ‘but can I ask you something?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

‘Are. are you an actor?’

Busted again. ‘I used to be.’

‘I thought so.’ She kept her head down, too nervous to meet my eyes. ‘The Boomer Family was my favourite, when I was little.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, and almost meant it.

She didn’t look like she belonged at the party. She had on a simple summer dress with a high neckline and low-heeled pumps, no jewellery except for a small gold heart on a chain around her neck and hardly any make-up. She didn’t need it. She stood there with me and watched the commotion outside.

Donn was flapping his arms and chewing out a guy in ragged cut-offs who was supposed to be running the projector. For a moment I thought he was going to slap the kid across the face, in front of everyone.

‘What’s your name?’ I said.

‘Charlene.’

‘Hi, Charlene. I’m Rob.’ I held out my hand and finally had to touch her wrist before she would look at me.