Skin Deep

'No, Bobby, old boy. We'll get you. And then you'll never get anybody again.'

His eyes dropped to the thing I had put on the floor, and his skin went ashen. 'No,' he said. 'You can't.'

'Can't I? Do something to him, ladies. But turn your faces away.'

Alma and Kareema did something to him. I suppose to some people it would have looked like fun. I waited until the girls' faces were averted and Toby's tongue was sticking out, and then I took a Polaroid. I waited for it to develop.

'Honest to God, Bobby,' I said to pass the minute. 'Boy, it's hard for me to get used to calling you Bobby. Well, whatever your name is, how gullible can you be? Why would Alma run away from you for months and then call you up all hot and bothered? Didn't you suspect anything! Who said, 'Vanity, thy name is Woman'? How wrong can you be?'

I looked at the picture. 'Very good, for a beginner. Look, Alma. There's old Toby, and there are all the little Tobys on the magazines. The big Toby looks okay, doesn't he? Good enough for the National Enquirer, at any rate.'

'Good enough for the cover of Time, if you ask me,' Alma said in her little-girl voice.

'You flatter me,' I said. I heard a sound from the hallway. 'Ah,' I said. 'The rest of our guests. Say hello, Toby.'

He couldn't help but look. Then he closed his eyes and let his head droop.

Janie Gordon came in first. Her first glance was an equal mixture of surprise and concern, but then she looked at me and started to laugh. She was still laughing when Betsi, the woman from the fan magazines, came in. She was followed by Chantra Hartsfield. She hadn't let me invite Rebecca.

Toby opened his eyes just in time to see Dixie. He started to brighten, and then he saw what Dixie was pushing, a wheelchair. Nana was in it.

'Don't just mill around,' I said. 'That's the trouble with parties, that moment of awkwardness at the beginning. This is Alma in the red corset and Kareema in the whatever it is.. '`

'It's a dress,' Kareema said. 'Hi, how are you all?'

'And you already know our host. You'll understand if he doesn't get up to greet you.'

'He's all tied up at the moment,' Alma said, 'ho, ho, ho.'

I went to Nana and kissed her on the largest piece of available skin. 'You're beautiful,' I said.

Most of her face was bandaged, and her right arm and leg were in casts.

'I look like the Invisible Man,' she said. 'But I look better than Toby.'

'And that's the point,' I said, raising my voice. 'Toby. This is a working party. We're going to shoot Toby Vane's new publicity pictures. Alma and Kareema, who have their own reasons to want to be here, have volunteered to help out. This is our set, and we've already taken care of makeup. Costume, as you can see, is going to be no problem.'

Betsi came and stood behind me. 'You're going to shoot from here?' she said critically.

'I thought so.'

'Well, you want to catch the pictures on the wall, but you ought to move him toward the corner. No reason to get the kitchen door.'

'Can we move him?' I asked.

'No sweat,' Kareema said, glancing at Betsi. 'Nice to know we've got a pro here.' She popped four little levers at the bottom of the rack, and wheels snapped out.

'Hi-tech torture,' Alma said, giggling. The two of them wheeled Toby into the corner. Toby's eyes had remained shut since he'd seen Dixie. They were still shut.

'Here.' I handed the camera to Betsi. 'No reason to trust to beginner's luck any farther than we have to. Just don't catch Alma's and Kareema's faces.'

'You'll never see them.' Chewing her lower lip, she looked down at Toby. 'What about his face? I mean, he has to look up or you'll never recognize him.'

'Honey,' Kareema said, 'believe me, we can make him look up. We can make him sing the 'Marseillaise,' even if he doesn't know the French.'

'Trust them,' I said. I clapped my hands twice for attention.

'Okay, this shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, and then we'll all go to lunch at Gladstone's. As I've said, this is a photo shoot, and first I want to explain to our star just how important it is.'

I knelt down again. 'Are you listening to me, Bobby?'

No reaction. Alma leaned over and did something tiny and mean, and Toby yelped and opened his eyes. He looked like a man ready to die of fury.

'Calm down,' I said. 'This won't take long. And if you behave yourself, no one will ever see any of these pictures. Do you understand?' He tried to nod, forgetting the restraint on his neck, and made a small choking sound. It didn't look like it improved his mood.

'Here's what's happening. Don't nod, just raise an eyebrow. First, you're never going to lift your hand against another woman. If you do, and if I hear about it, these pictures are going to everybody from UPI to TV Guide. Got it?'

He gave an infinitesimal nod. Maybe he didn't know how to raise one eyebrow.

I took a piece of paper from my pocket. 'This is a tax-deductible receipt. Earlier this week, acting at your request, of course, I donated twenty-five hundred dollars to the West Hollywood Woman's Hospice. WH squared, as they call themselves, maintain a home for battered women. Your donation, which will be repeated monthly for the next two years, will be used to rent five additional apartments for women who are trying to avoid husbands or boyfriends who enjoy breaking their faces. I rejected their suggestion that they issue a press release naming it the Toby Vane Wing. You agree that you'll keep the contribution coming on a monthly basis?' Someone behind me clapped.

Toby nodded again.

'Finally,' I said, unfolding the receipt and taking a smaller piece of paper from its center, 'this is the name and phone number of a Dr. Elena Gutierrez. Dr. Gutierrez was recommended by the people at WH squared as the best psychiatrist in Los Angeles for the treatment of men who batter women. You have an appointment with Dr. Gutierrez for Tuesday evening at seven, after filming finishes. That's your regular appointment from now on. I've told her nothing, only that you have a problem and that you want help. The rest is up to you. Are you going to see her?'

This time he looked at me. Then he nodded again.

'Great. Fine. Well, that's it, then.' I stood up and turned to Betsi. 'Take your pictures,' I said. 'I'll want them when you're finished.'

Betsi maneuvered into position, and Alma and Kareema went to work. A flashbulb popped. 'Oh, golly,' Janie Gordon whispered. It sounded like she'd learned something interesting. I didn't turn around to see what. Instead I went to Nana.

'I'll take her, Dixie,' I said.

Dixie stepped aside, taking him closer to Chantra. She didn't move away. She looked over at him and then put her arm around his shoulders in a maternal gesture.

Another bulb popped as I took the handles of Nana's chair. I started to turn her, and she said, 'Wait. I want to see.' Another flash. 'Okay,' she said. 'Now we can go.'

I wheeled her out into the sunlight and up the driveway toward the van. I trundled her up the ramp and sat beside her.

'You're going to be okay,' I said.

'Of course I am. I'm young.' She sounded faintly impatient.

'You may not be able to dance for a while.'

'I'll never dance again. Except with you, I mean. Whoops, I said I wouldn't do that. Except on a dance floor, with some nice man. And all my clothes on.' She sobered. 'Poor Tiny,' she said. 'He didn't mean to do it.'

I didn't say anything.

'But didn't Toby look fantastic?' she asked.

'I guess, all things considered. A little black and blue, but the boy really knows how to take a close-up.'

'You simp,' she said. She leaned forward to kiss me, and said, 'Ow.' She fingered the livid yellow flesh around