'Well, Regan's pretty sick.'
'Oh, I'm Sony. What's wrong?'
'They don't know yet. I'm waiting for some tests. Listen, Ed, I can't leave her.'
'So who says to leave her?'
'No, you don't understand, Ed. I need to be at home with her. She needs my attention. Look, I just can't explain it, Ed, it's too complicated, so why don't we just hold off for a while?'
'We can't. They want to try for the Music Hall over Christmas, Chris, and I think that they're pushing it now.'
'Oh, for chrissakes, Ed, they can wait two weeks. Now come on!'
'Look, you've bugged me that you want to direct and now all of a---'
'Right, Ed, I know,' she interrupted. 'Look, I want it; I really want it bad, but you'll just have to tell 'em that I need some more time!'
'And if I do, we're going to blow it. Now that's my opinion. Look, they don't want you anyway, that's not news. They're just doing this for Moore, and I think if they go back to him now and say she isn't too sure she wants to do it yet, he'll have an out. Now come on, Chris, talk sense. Look, You do what you want. I don't care. There's no money in this thing unless it hits. But if you want it, I'm telling you: I ask for a delay and I think we're going to blow it. Now then, what should I tell them?'
'Ahh, boy,' sighed Chris.
'It's not easy. I know.'
'No, it isn't. Well, listen...'
She thought. Then shook her head. 'Ed, they'll just have to wait,' she said wearily.
'Your decision.'
'Okay, Ed. Let me know.'
'I will. I'll be calling. Take it easy.'
'You too, Ed. Good-bye.'
She hang up the phone in a state of depression and lit up a cigarette. 'I talked to Howard, by the way, did I tell you?' she said to Sharon.
'Oh, when? Did you tell him what's happening with Rags?'
'I told him. I told him he ought to come see her.'
'Is he coming?'
'I don't know. I don't think so,' Chris answered.
'You'd think he'd make the effort.'
'Yeah, I know.' Chris sighed. 'But you've got to understand his hang-up, Shar. That's it. I know that's it.'
'What's it?'
'Oh, the whole 'Mr. Chris MacNeil' thing. Rags was a part of it. She was in and he was out. Always me and Rags together on the magazine covers; me and Rags in the layouts; mother and daughter, pixie twins.' She tipped ash from her cigarette with a moody forger. 'Ah, nuts, who knows. It's all mixed up. But it's hard to get hacked with him, Spar; I Just can't.'
She reached out for a book by Sharon's elbow. 'So what are you reading?'
'What do you mean? Oh, that. That's for you. I forgot. Mrs. Perrin dropped it by.'
'She was here?'
'Yes, this morning. Said she's sorry she missed you and she's going out of town, but she'll call you as soon as she's back.'
Chris nodded and glanced at the title of the book: A Study of Devil Worship and Related Occult Phenomena. She opened it and found a penned note from Mary Jo Perrin: Dear Chris: I happened by the Georgetown University Library and picked this up for you. It has some chapters about Black Mass. You should read it all, however; I think you'll find the other sections particularly interesting. See you soon.
Mary Jo
'Sweet lady,' said Chris.
'Yes, she is,' agreed Sharon.
Chris riffled through the pages of the back, 'What's the scoop on Black Mass? Pretty hairy?'
'I don't know,' answered Sharon. 'I haven't read it.'
'No good for serenity?'
Sharon stretched and yawned. 'Oh, that stuff turns me off.'
'What happened to your Jesus complex?'
'Oh, come on.'
