The Caryatids

"You just told me not to take my problems up with John. I can cut my relations with your John-he's a very charming fellow, but he's not entirely faithful to his word. Still, I want to be made whole with the Acquis. I want a return to my status quo ante before your husband interfered with my business affairs. That's only proper, isn't it?"

"Suppose that I solve your problems. Do you promise you'll stay far away from Los Angeles, Djordje? You won't contact me, or anyone in my Family, anymore?"

"I might agree to those terms, Radmila. If Dr. Feininger also agrees to your terms. Dr. Feininger also flew with me here to Los Angeles. He wants to redress this unfortunate Mljet situation. Dr. Feininger is upset. He has good reasons for that. If you can mollify him, then I will do as you ask. Otherwise, you and I have a quarrel."

"You're threatening me."

"I'm glad that you noticed," Djordje said cheerily. "If you don't want my threats, then don't offend me. Let's just be reasonable...no, let's be pretty! You are so pretty, Radmila! What on Earth did they do to you, all those movie-star people?"

"We're not movie stars, for God's sake. We're just 'stars.'"

"In Vienna, we still love the old cinema. We love many fine, civilized things, in Vienna. It would be pleasant if you Americans would stop degrading them."

Radmila ached to leap to her feet and slap the smirk off Djordje's face. It was a luminous, creeping, burning urge.

Toddy would never strike a man in the face. What would Toddy do?

Radmila smiled sweetly and touched one finger to her cheek.

Djordje's eyes widened.

"Djordje dear, your friend has come a long way to Los Angeles, under some trying circumstances. I apologize to you for your present difficulties. I promise that I did not intend those troubles. Why don't you check out of this clinic, retrieve your possessions from security, and send your Dr. Feininger in here to see me? I have an offer to make to your Acquis friend and I think he will be pleased to hear it."

"You mean all that?"

"Yes, I do, and I don't lack for resources. I plan to put things right, and I'll trust to your sense of decency not to trouble my Family further."

"That strange tone of voice, that way you move your lips," Djordje marveled. "That is amazing. You've truly changed, Radmila. You're gorgeous, you're famous, you're rich...You're a complete alien! I hope you're happy."

"I'm happy when the people I love are happy."

"What a wonderful, inspiring thing to say. Those words give me such hope. I watch all your performances! You truly have talent! Don't believe those bad reviews. You're improving steadily!"

Radmila said nothing. She assembled a smile.

"Radmila, you are so much closer to escaping our curse than the rest of us. Maybe that has been fated to happen. As children...we were created and raised as an evil plan for this world. But in a world as truly evil as our world truly is-maybe we can act for good. When I look at you, I can almost believe that."

"I'm glad that we had this heart-to-heart talk, George. It has cleared the air. Let's not keep your important friend waiting."

Djordje shuffled from polished foot to foot on the antiseptic clinic floor. He seemed genuinely moved. "Listen, Radmila: Please be careful with him. Dr. Feininger is my friend. That doesn't make him your friend. He should have taken his issues up with your husband. For him to come here to confront you, instead: That's not good news for you."

"Oh, I may be only a humble star, but I am from a political family. I've met Acquis pundits before."

Muttering, dithering, intolerable, Djordje finally left her alone. At last, Radmila was able to draw one clean, untainted breath. Her heartbeat slowed. That had been very bad.

But it was not so entirely bad as she had feared. She'd managed to play her way through that ordeal. She'd simply acted her way through it without ever breaking character. Stardom was full of suffering.

Radmila even felt a little bit guilty about refusing to glance at the pictures of Djordje's children. Maybe someday she'd be able to meet Djordje's children and establish some kind of relationship with them. After Djordje was dead, of course. That was a pleasant thought: especially the part about Djordje dying.

Once, and once only since leaving Mljet, Radmila had met one of her sisters: Sonja. They had simply blundered into each other: of all the people in the unlucky world. The horror had occurred on a peaceful tourist overlook above the glassy ruins of New York.

Radmila had glimpsed a pretty woman in a Chinese military uniform, brandishing a pair of elaborate binoculars, leaning at the railing of the overlook, and carefully studying the blast pattern.

Then that woman, sensing danger somehow, had turned and looked back, and that woman was Sonja.