Reign

in character in an instant.

Of course, in a way Dennis was never out of character. In public and in rehearsal, he acted like an emperor, and it was being able to see behind that fa c ade that finally endeared him to Robin. She was perceptive enough to know that what she and the rest of the world was seeing was not the real Dennis Hamilton, that beneath the guise of imperiousness was just another frightened human being who needed love like anyone else.

It was not, however, until the show went on the road that she began to actually get close to Dennis. Until that time, she wasn't even certain that he knew her name, although everyone else did. Robin was funny and thoughtful, and helped keep the company at ease. It was she who remembered everyone's birthday, who posted photos of celebrities with humorous typed captions or word balloons on the cast bulletin board, who was always the first to welcome a new chorus member into the dressing room. She was, in short, everyone's friend, and it was only a matter of time before she became Dennis's as well.

The first time he talked to her at length was on Robin's twenty-first birthday, when they had already been on the road for a year. They were playing Seattle, and Robin had brought in several boxes of doughnuts and placed them on a table outside the chorus dressing rooms. It was a half hour before curtain and Robin, having come early, was already in costume and makeup. She was just placing the napkins when Dennis came up to her, also ready for the performance, and asked what was the occasion.

'My birthday,' she replied, somewhat embarrassed.

'Your birthday?' Dennis said in the patronizing voice he used with the dancers. 'And how old is our little girl today?'

'Twenty-one.'

He looked surprised. 'Really? I don't mean to offend, but I thought you were older. You've been in the show since the beginning, haven't you?'

'Yes, but I was only nineteen then.'

'A lucky lady to get such an early start.'

She thought about it before she said it. 'And lucky to get in this show too.'

He cocked his head. 'Lucky? Why?'

'I've always admired your work.'

'Ah! Not only is she pretty, she has good taste as well.' He chuckled self-deprecatingly. When he stopped, the soft smile remained. 'Robin, isn't it.' She nodded. 'You're the one who puts the funny pictures on the board?' She nodded again. 'You've got a wonderful sense of humor. Where were you when we needed more jokes in the script back in '66?'

Now it was her turn to smile. 'In nursery school.'

'Ooo.' He winced. 'Did I say sense of humor or acerbic wit? You make me feel old.'

'You're not.'

'I know,' he said, and surveyed the doughnuts. 'Nor am I fat, but perhaps I can remedy that shortcoming. Are there any cream filled ones here?'

She pointed. 'Those.'

'My weakness,' he said, taking one and extending his neck so that no powdered sugar would fall on his costume. 'Delicious,' he said after swallowing a bite. 'Now. Come with me.'

He led her across the backstage area toward his dressing room, and she went reluctantly, unsure of what to expect. If he had taken a fancy to her, and expected a squeeze and a tickle in private, or even more, he would get an unpleasant surprise, even if he was Dennis Hamilton. Nevertheless, she followed him inside, where they found Sid Harper sitting in a corner reading a copy of Downbeat. 'Sid, give Robin here fifty dollars, please.'

'What?' she said, surprised.

'For doughnuts,' Dennis said. 'Every night I want you to buy several dozen for the cast and crew, and when you're out of money see Sid and he'll give you more. That was a nice deed, and nice deeds are not often enough rewarded in this world. Besides,' he grinned, and for the first time Robin saw the man behind the mask, 'I like doughnuts. And if you buy them, then I don't have to feel guilty about eating them.'

She bought the doughnuts as directed, and, since Dennis was generally at the doughnut table a half hour before curtain (he always ate one and one only), she made it a point to dress early and be there as well. Their conversations lengthened, got more serious, and in a short time Dennis suggested that they finish over dinner after the show. One dinner led to another, and by the time the show arrived in Portland for a week's run, they were spending most of their time together. They did not sleep together until San Francisco, although by that time it seemed a foregone conclusion. She could tell that it was more than lust that had brought Dennis into her arms, and, several months later, one night in his suite when she grew bold enough to broach the subject of marriage, she was pleased to find him receptive. Although she felt in retrospect that she could have used a more subtle approach than, 'Do you ever think of getting married again,' such a bold sally had the desired effect.

'Yes, I've thought of it,' he told her. 'A lot lately. And I've thought about it because of you, Robin. Because you're one of the few giving people I've ever met. And I'm damn sure you're the prettiest.' He smiled. 'And the best in bed, for what that's worth. You're the best thing that's happened to me for a long, long time.'

'It sounds like you'd be crazy to let me get away.'

'It does indeed.' They had been lying on the carpet of his living room watching a football game on television, and he turned off the set, reached over, and took her hand. 'Do you love me?' he asked.

'I do,' she said. 'Yes.'

'Marry me then. Take care of me, and I'll take care of you. I need someone like you very much. I have for a long time.'

She didn't ask him then whether he loved her as well as needed her. After they were married, he told her that he did, and she had never had any reason not to believe him. Their marriage had been a good one, although the second year of the tour she regrettably stopped performing at his request, after he told her that he felt she would be far more of a help to him as a liaison between him and John Steinberg. There were so many things, he said wearily, that John expected of him, a hundred little decisions a week that sapped his strength, all of which he needed lately for his performance.

At first she was reluctant to stop performing, especially to fill the role of majordomo, a position already held, she felt, by Sid. Dennis's response to that was curt. 'But you're my wife, Robin. You know how I think, you know what I'll say before I say it.' She wasn't so sure of that, but she didn't disagree. 'Besides, Sid, as much as I love him, is really a glorified cook and valet. He makes no decisions other than what to serve for dinner and what tie to lay out for me. As for major business decisions… darling, you could be of great help to me.'

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if part of it was that he didn't want her to perform any more, but she bit it back. Dennis, although he was always kind to her, was possessive as well, and she could not help but feel that he resented her performing because it meant that her affections were divided, that the energies she brought to her stage work were somehow energies that were taken away from him, and, like a selfish child, he resented it.

Still, she did as he asked, deferred to him as did so many others, because to refuse would have been unthinkable, an act of treason to the throne. People obeyed Dennis, from his son Evan to John Steinberg. Robin simply fell into line and obeyed as well. She had promised to take care of him, and take care of him she would. She saw all too easily the insecurity behind the imperial mask, and she loved the man there. Too, she loved the life that he had given her – the luxurious suites, the fine dinners, the parties with famous people, the clothes, the jewelry – Dennis never scrimped. All she had to do was to mention that she thought something was nice, and he would buy it for her, sometimes on the spot, more often later as a surprise. This generosity was one way he knew to show affection, and she appreciated it. It showed her that her efforts to make his private life as easy as possible were not taken lightly.

Nor should they have been. It could be hard work to live with Dennis Hamilton. Despite the change that had recently come over him, he had often been demanding and imperious and selfish. But the rewards, both financial and emotional, had been great. There was no denying that she loved the man and the life she led with him.

But now, with the reappearance of Ann Deems, Robin saw the possibility -indeed, in her imagination, the likelihood – of that life being taken away, of a quick and savage divorce and settlement and remarriage to Ann. And although she knew that whatever settlement she would receive would be a greater sum than she could imagine, it was not money she wanted. It was Dennis. Dennis when they were alone together and the masks came down, when the regalness turned to tenderness.