always defaulted back to more formal forms. “He would do very well as an actor in one of my
I didn’t mention it sounded like
Hector sighed. “I can always use my Ricardo Montalban and Cesar Romero CinSims, but fresh blood
“And your frequent autopsy scenes provide plenty of that.”
We were getting too close to the bone. My grievance: his already pimping existing images of Lilith and me for a new series. Time enough to broach that another day.
“We are so bored, Hector,” I said, getting down to business by twirling my instep and putting the marabou on my purple peep-toe shoe in tremulous motion.
Hector’s left eyebrow raised and his red Cupid lips pursed.
“I told Ric if anyone had the latest, most complete version of
Hector beamed. “You never underestimate me, my dear Miss Street. Of course I do, but why is the Cadaver Kid . . . apologies, Mr. Ricardo—”
“Mr. Montoya.”
“Yes, how careless of me. Why would your beau, who has always been rather indifferent to vintage films, wish to watch such an old, silent, and long example of the art form?”
“
“Yes, they are drool worthy, aren’t they? I believe you know figures of influence in Vegas who’d be willing to recreate any of the garb, particularly from the Yoshiwara nightclub scenes, for yourself, if you but expressed an interest and a suitable gratitude.”
“I do have an ample state-of-the-art home theater. I don’t suppose you’d care to have me join you?”
“Ric is such a novice at silent films that you’d find the experience wearing.”
“How can you consort with someone so lacking in that appreciation?” Nightwine shuddered as if he’d accidentally tasted a Cheeto. I fully expected him to display an orange tongue next.
“This is an educational outing for Ric’s sake, Hector. You can help bring another soul into the flock of film fanatics.”
“Play on my better instincts, will you? Very well. Have the lad up, but the dog must remain on the ground floor. I find him ungovernable.”
“So do I,” I said with a smile, rising. “I’m sure Godfrey will install us comfortably in your viewing palace.”
Hector’s smile grew sly as his chins dimpled against his brocade cravat. “You will adore it.”
I smiled back. On this, we spoke the same language. Sometimes I forgot he was a really lonely man, or whatever, and that was why I cut him slack.
Chapter Fifteen
RIC WATCHED GODFREY don an apron with aplomb and remove a platter of roast beef from the massive stainless steel refrigerator-freezer unit. A CinSim maid also clad in black with white cap, cuffs, and apron began making cold cuts for Quicksilver and a welcome sandwich for him.
Delilah needed a food break too. With all the morning’s excitement extending into afternoon, they’d been too busy to eat. Or too in love. Ric’s stroll on the Inferno’s wild side had stoked his desire for Delilah and now that the hang-up against lying on her back had been exorcised, they had a lot more exploring to do.
Ric returned his mind to Nightwine’s kitchen and found himself grinning like a Halloween pumpkin.
“Please sit down,” Godfrey invited, pulling out a stool at the central island. “The master has ordered a viewing supper later for you and Miss Street. I’m told the film is almost as long as three hours of network prime time.”
“Don’t you find this role demeaning, Godfrey?” Ric asked as he sat.
“Why should I, dear boy? I’m a successful businessman with a social conscience for the devastated unemployed of my Depression times and now, yours. I played along with being mistaken for a homeless man and took a butler job because the family involved needed serious emotional and financial help.”
“And you ‘help’ here too?”
“Indeed. The master is housebound.”
“Some house.” Ric eyed the huge, high-ceilinged kitchen gleaming with the stainless steel of innumerable gadgets.
“I do enjoy the surroundings.”
“So you feel some sense of loyalty to your ‘owner’?”
“Certainly. Loyalty has always been my greatest virtue. The self who underlies this incarnation got my ex-wife the lead female role in my namesake film because I recommended her for the job. And together we made screwball film history. An amusing sort of immortality, isn’t it?”
“Carole Lombard was once your wife?”
“I see our Miss Street has been explaining my role to you. She was also my wife again, in the film, although Miss Street is quite right that the character bulldozed me into marriage at the end. Don’t get yourself corralled in such a sneaky fashion, my lad.”
Ric waved off that notion. “Do you miss . . . Miss Lombard? Would you want her on these premises?”
“Not necessary, although Miss Street was instrumental in getting my . . . er, cousin at the Inferno his screen wife and even the dog.”
“Delilah got Snow to buy Nora Charles and Asta for Nick’s sake?”
“Indeed. Miss Street could get Christophe of the Inferno to do a great many more things for her, should she stoop to flattering his ego. He is not a hopelessly bad individual,” Godfrey mused while swiping a dishcloth over Quicksilver’s already bare and washed plate. “More misguided than anything. Next to Miss Street and the master, no one in Las Vegas is as considerate of CinSims as he. We do not forget our friends.”
“Are you familiar with the film Delilah and I will be seeing?”
“
“Godfrey, you seem much more self-aware than most CinSims.”
“I am supposed to be the perfect gentleman’s gentleman.”
“Yes, but you know where your other . . . incarnations . . . are located in Las Vegas, and even recognize the actor beneath the character.”
“We are not stupid, Mr. Montoya, just limited somewhat in our memories, and certainly in our movements, through no fault of our own. My master’s love of film requires I discuss them with him and I’ve learned what many less advantageously placed CinSims may never access. Why all the personal questions, Mr. Montoya?”
“I was forced as a child to raise so many zombie ‘canvases’ that may have been used for CinSims.”
“Well, you have a special talent, then.”
“But now I’ve raised a CinSim directly from the screen and it . . . she . . . seems horribly dependent on me.”
“Ah. Which version of the stunning actress Brigitte Helm are you referring to?”
“I don’t know. The form is the silver metal robot zombie.”
“Actually a plastic, wood, silver-and-bronze robot zombie, I believe.”
“That doesn’t matter! The point is her image registers as all silver on the old nitrate films used then. The point is I brought her to ‘life,’ personally. I’ve never done that with a film creation. And now she has a bizarre second life, thanks to me.”
“It certainly will be interesting to see what she does with it.”
“Is that up to her? Snow owns her.”
