Songs for Perri

by Nancy Radke

  Then a thought struck her that had been niggling at the back of her mind all evening. "What happened to Luke?"

  "He left to fly back to Phoenix...just before they came."

  "How did they get you to open your door then?" Joe asked.

  "A piece of paper with Perri's name on it." Puzzled, Walt looked at her. "It looked like your handwriting—although I didn’t study it very well."

  "Was it the same one I used this morning?" she asked, wondering if Luke had carelessly tossed that one away.

  "No. This was written on tablet paper."

  "They could have copied it off the hotel register," Joe said. "It's been done before."

  Walt left in one taxi and Joe and Perri took the next cab that came along. The young driver kidded Joe about his appearance, so Joe told him he'd had a motorcycle accident.

  It was as good an excuse as any and Perri wondered how many times he had had to use it. She was careful not to press too closely against him, for his cautious movements revealed just how much he was hurting.

  Neither one of them looked presentable. The blood had dried dark leaving a dirty brown stain on their clothing, as if they had splashed motor oil over themselves. They stood outside the hotel, partially hidden by the shrubbery until the lobby was momentarily empty, then hurried across to the elevator.

  The doors opened and Carl Freedman stepped out, blinked in disbelief and spurted out, "Perri! What happened?"

  "Motorcycle accident," Perri mumbled, using Joe's excuse when she couldn't think of another.

  "Are you all right?"

  The door was trying to close and Joe caught it. "Yes," he assured him. "We just need to get cleaned up."

  "See you," Perri called and stepped inside with him, cutting short Carl's words of sympathy.

  Joe pushed the button for their floor and Perri sagged against the wall. "How are you going to get into your room?" she asked. "You gave Walt the key." How was Hugo going to get around this?

  He smiled knowingly to himself. "I'll go through yours."

  "The only room next to mine is Hugo's," she observed dryly. "Or have you moved in there? Did he check out?"

  "Umm...." he paused.

  "But he wouldn't, yet, would he? He still has three shows to give...tonight, tomorrow and Saturday."

  Joe nodded, so Perri pressed the point. She had him now. Would he finally tell her? "Hugo spent so much time with me. They might have grabbed him."

  "Probably not."

  The elevator stopped at her floor and the doors slid silently open. Perri stood unmoving until Joe tugged at her arm.

  "You don't suppose someone took him, too? Thought he was with us and killed him?" Her voice rose, acting as best she could, as if the horror of the idea had caught her up in its emotion.

  His manner was reassuring. "No, no...he's fine."

  "How do you know?"

  Joe steered her over to her door and she used her key, letting them in. "I saw him.”

  "You have? When?"

  Joe frowned, avoiding her eyes. "You must like him, a lot. You didn't react this strongly when we were going after Walt."

  "I could see Walt and do something."

  "But you like Hugo. Enough to marry him...if he asked?" he probed.

  Perri was still a little touchy about the way they had excluded her in their game of deception. "Maybe. Maybe not." His face fell, but she wasn't yet ready to let him off the hook.

  He was scowling as he stepped over and unlocked the connecting door. "How are you going to handle the fact that Hugo is Donegal?"

  "You know that?" Perri grabbed his arm as he was about to step into the next room, effectively stopping him.

  "Yes."

  "Joe, you must never, ever tell anyone that."

  "I realize that. I wouldn't tell—”

  "Not even Walt?"

  "Walt already knows."

  "He does? You told him."

  "Yes." Joe chuckled, holding his ribs as he did so. "Perri, Hugo doesn't need you to defend him from me. Let go of me so I can show you something."

  She did, acting reluctant and suspicious, and he walked away from her into the room. It still retained the same luggage that Perri had seen before—Hugo's luggage.

  She clasped her hands together, almost wringing them, hoping she wasn't overreacting. Was he finally going to tell her?

  Joe picked out a couple of items from Hugo's suitcase. "Hugo is my alter ego. Let me introduce you, properly. Perri, meet Hugo. Hugo, Perri." As she watched, he plopped the dark brown wig on his head, stuck on the offending sunglasses and altered his walk and speech. "Here I am. You see, you had nothing to worry about, Perri. Sorry I had to keep it from you so long, but—”

  "I see," she said flatly. "You are Hugo."

  "Yes."

  "How long was I supposed to wait before you told me?" she snapped.

  "It's dangerous knowledge, my dear. Only Walt knows. And my manager. Not even Luke knows."

  "You are the most...maddening man."

  He shrugged tiredly. "And you, Perri, are the most beautiful woman—especially when you're mad."

  "Were you having fun, playing your games?"

  "Not really. I couldn't tell you, sooner. Walt wouldn't let me, for one."

  "Why not?"

  "You had to keep Hugo, Joe and Donegal separate in your mind. We couldn't have you inadvertently calling me by the wrong name in front of the wrong people. Besides, your father has always maintained that a secret not told will stay a secret."

  Silently she acknowledged the importance of that. So was that the only reason? A logical one, of course. "And now?"

  "Now I've got to take the chance. I can't leave you behind. Besides, it was getting downright awkward. I have a hard time staying in character when I'm with you. It's much easier when you know."

  The bed was behind her and she sat down, hard. "Here I've been trying to keep Hugo out of harm's way—” she complained loudly.

  "Thank you."

  "And keeping this whole affair a secret from him—”

  "You did a good job.”

  "No wonder you were able to ‘follow' me without me seeing you.”

  "Pretty sneaky, right?"

  "I said some things to you...."

  "About Hugo?"

  "Yes."

  "I won't tell."

  "You’d better not," she threatened, hoping she was acting sufficiently upset. "You should be ashamed of yourself, after all you put me through."

  He hung his head, boy-like, studying her reaction. The smile on her tightly shut lips gave her away. "Actually," he admitted, "it was sort of fun, being Joe and asking you about Hugo. I've always wanted to do that."

  "Really?" She glared at him.

  "Although you did give me a bad moment a few minutes ago. Is this going to make any difference?"

  "I'll have to think about it. Maybe."

  He dropped to his knees in front of her. "Maybe?" He took her hands in his, studying her face for a moment. "Something's not quite right here."

  "Oh?" She tried to look innocent.

  "You knew!" He jumped to his feet and pointed an accusing finger towards her. "You knew." Spinning around, he took two steps away, then turned back, muttering, "I told Walt it wouldn't work. I told him. I was too close to you...and you're too sharp. When did you figure it out?"

  "For certain? When both Hugo and Joe skinned the same set of knuckles."

  "And before?"

  "Your grin, certain mannerisms...made me keep comparing the two of you. And Hugo knew things about me I hadn't told him."

  "I warned Walt not to tell me too much."

  "And of course, you're also Donegal, which is what Papa meant when he asked if you'd be able to perform."

  "Right."

  "Oh, great! You’re still going to sing tonight?"

  "If I can."

  "Okay. Fine." She emphasized each word with her hands. "What do I call you?"

  "Whoever I am at the time. Don't switch names. Thankfully
this masquerade's almost over, so there's less chance of you giving me away. Right now I'm Hugo. Don't slip."

  "Three men," Perri mused. "Don't you ever meet yourself half-way out the door? How do you keep yourself straight?"

  "I become that personality. Like an actor. I’ve done these same characters for years. Eye color, wig, walk and talk...once I slip into it, I'm that person. "

  "Not always."

  "It was harder with you."

  "But how—”

  "Perri, my little goose, stop worrying. It works fine, usually. Unless some bright-eyed woman looks too close. And there are four of me. I'll introduce you to my other self some time."

  He caught up his leather jacket and stepped back into her room. "Let's go. I haven't much time to change into Donegal...and he takes the most time. Do you have a hat or scarf?"

  "A scarf."

  "Put it on. I want that lovely hair covered."

  She tied on her blue paisley scarf and they went out, down the stairs and around backstage. She was definitely with Hugo...his walk and speech held no hint of Joe. He hurried her into his dressing room where his manager, Michael Cowan, was waiting anxiously.

  "Mike, this is Perri Linn, Walt's stepdaughter. She knows everything."

  The manager was about Walt's age, a young-old man who looked like someone's favorite uncle. "Hello. I've heard about you...only good things. And what happened to you this time?" he continued, looking at Joe's...rather at Hugo's face.

  "Some thugs tried to kill Walt and me tonight; Perri managed to save us, so thank her nicely and then give my ribs a wrap while I see how much I can cover with make-up."

  He sat down at the dressing table after pulling off his shirt. His muscular body was covered with dark purple and yellow weals, some of which crossed over old scars of wounds long healed; the bruising a mute testimony to the severity of the beating he had received. It hurt Perri just to look at him.

  Michael Cowan locked the door and threw open a trunk with "Donegal's" clothes and wigs and extras in it. "Sometimes you cut it mighty close, Hugo. You're due on in twenty minutes." He opened up a medical kit and began to wrap Hugo's rib area. "You sure you can sing?"

  "Things might be cracked, but nothing feels broken. The audience is going to get soft ballads tonight, whether they want them or not. No jumping around the stage. I'll tell them I crashed while motorcycling...that'll make the press happy and keep the fans quiet."

  "Soft ballads. Now those I'd like to hear," said Perri.

  "You stay back here, out of sight," Hugo commanded as he put on Donegal's long dark-brown wig, took out Hugo’s dark brown contacts and inserted the singer’s blue contacts. His face was lightened by make-up, the swollen eye hardly visible as he worked the wig's scraggly bangs down so they flopped over it. "You'll hear well enough. Mike can pipe it in. I don't want you where folks can see you."

  "But surely...the only men who knew were on the boat."

  "Someone sent them. Someone who must have followed either you or Joe to Walt. So we need the two of you to disappear. I'll explain more afterwards."

  "This is going to need stitches," Mike commented as he unwrapped the bandage they had put on Hugo's leg. Spraying on antiseptic and Novocain first, he threaded his needle and closed the knife wounds.

  "I was a medic in Vietnam," he explained to Perri, "before I got involved with the company. The training comes in handy with guys like this. They don't know how to do a job cleanly."

  "Cool it, Mike. You'll have her thinking this happens all the time. It doesn't, you know. Usually I don't get a scratch."

  Perri remembered the other marks upon his body, but withheld comment. It wasn't the right time to ask about them. He wasn't the one to ask, anyway. Walt would know and would give her a straighter answer.

  Maybe. Walt had been no help at all, telling Joe he couldn't reveal Hugo. And it would do her little good to complain to him...he knew what was best; she didn't. But the deception hadn't been necessary as far as she was concerned. All it had done was make her feel lost and without guidance. And caused her to make some mistakes.

  Completely transformed by make-up, contacts and long dark wig, Donegal finished pulling on his sequined costume, gave her a theatrical wink with his good eye, grabbed his guitar and unlocked the door. His manager checked the hallway, gave him an all-clear, and followed him out, the lock clicking behind them. The applause as Donegal walked on stage could be heard all the way back into the dressing rooms.

  For a few moments Perri relaxed, trying to assimilate all the events and revelations of the day while listening to Donegal greeting the crowd with a song. Safe and secure, she listened as Donegal sang the types of songs she loved.

  Starting out with "Daylight Memories," "No Justice for Tommy" and "A Bachelor's Dream," Donegal sang a group of his quieter songs, abandoning his usual raucous style—and had the crowd cheering wildly when he finally left. Entranced, Perri closed her eyes and gave herself up to loving this complex man.

  Called back for an encore, he sang "Voyage of Discovery," once more. This time the words meant something to her. Searching for a lost love: that was Owen...and the masquerade was Joe-Hugo-Donegal himself. The golden promise of ecstasy? What was that? Her growing feeling for him—now that she knew who he was? How could he have known that when he had written the song?

  Or was it talking about his feelings...toward her? Yet when he'd written it, he hadn't really known her. Of course, Walt had been talking constantly about her, while Joe was trying to get him to rest in the hotel room, but that couldn't have done it.

  Maybe he had just been making things rhyme.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Perri was smiling dreamily when they returned. Donegal limped straight to his dressing table, shed his sequined shirt and tossed it to Mike, at the same time asking him for some hair lightener.

  "They seemed to like that," he said as he pulled off the heavy wig. "I wonder if I could ease Donegal into soft rock and ballads." Quickly he wiped off the make-up that lightened his face and made Donegal's cheeks look fuller. The change was dramatic. Perri wondered if she'd ever get used to him changing characters.

  Going over to a sink, he poured the solution Mike handed him on his short hair, rubbing it in. "You're getting the full works, Perri. This is my last character, Nolan Nyle. I don't have to use him very often."

  As his hair gradually turned light brown, "Nolan" rinsed it out and carefully wiped off his lightened eyebrows. He left in the blue contacts. A dark smudge of make-up gave the appearance of a slight cleft in his chin. Again his appearance was completely changed and Perri knew if she hadn't watched him change, she wouldn't have recognized him on the street.

  But...she did recognize him. She had seen him several times ...when she thought she was all alone. This was how Joe had "followed" her without being seen before Hugo got into the act again. The recognition sprung to her eyes and Nolan acknowledged it with a flick of his brows, knowing she had put two and two together.

  Light slacks and a white Mexican shirt completed his outfit. While he was getting dressed, Michael Cowan packed up Donegal's clothes and accessories.

  "I'll probably send Owen out Monday with the band, Mike. Dress him up like Hugo and send him through with Hugo's passport. It might be the safest way to go. If so I'll either bring him here or put him in your room."

  "I'll watch for him."

  "If I have to send him alone, I'll have him ask for Hugo."

  "Gotcha."

  "Come on, Perri. Put on your scarf. We've got to contact Owen."

  "Okay. Nolan." She tried out the name, trying to embed it into her mind. Not for anything was she going to err and call him by the wrong name. Not now.

  He gave a quick, boyish grin, reminiscent of Joe, but changed by the chin cleft into something more wickedly appealing to the senses. "Good. That's the idea. See you, Mike."

  "Take care, Nolan." The older man checked the hallway again. "So long."

  "Keep your hair covered," Nolan wa
rned and Perri obediently pulled the scarf up and ducked her head. "Go on. I'll meet you in the stairs." Nolan stopped and she crossed the nearly empty section between the side hall and the stairs alone.

  There was quite a few people lingering in the lobby after the show. Carl Freedman and Junior were waiting for the elevator and didn’t seem to notice her passing beyond them.

  Nolan soon joined her and they went to her floor. The hallway was empty and they entered her room unobserved.

  "Wait here," Nolan ordered, unlocking the connecting door. Her step-father was resting on the bed, coming awake when his leg was touched. "Uh...Nolan?"

  "Yes. We'll take the passports over now. I was thinking of putting Owen in Hugo's spot and sending him out with the band. I'd like to get him out of here."

  "Perri too," Walt insisted.

  "Differently, though. I don't want her with Owen."

  "Keep her with us?"

  "I'd rather; we make a pretty good team."

  "I've no objection. Perri?"

  "Whatever you say." Secretly she was happy to stay with Hugo...Joe ...Nolan. Nolan! He was Nolan now.

  No wonder he hadn't wanted her to know his identities. She could see how easy it would be to mess up. Nolan. Nolan. She said it over to herself several times.

  "Change clothes, Perri, while I do the same. Do you have anything you haven't worn yet?"

  "Not really."

  "Then put on my shirt, wear it out over those white pants of yours." He pulled a flat tam-like cap out of the suitcase. "Wear Hugo's leather jacket tonight. Put your hair up inside this."

  When she was ready, she looked like a teen-age moll, and Nolan shook his head. "That won't do."

  Fishing out a bottle of brown hair coloring, he handed it to her. "Use this, then comb and spray the top down flat. We want you to look as plain as we can make you...although that's going to be a challenge."

  Walt laughed at Perri's sour face. She wasn't pleased with the thought of dulling her hair. "That's like trying to change a peacock into a mouse, Nolan. It's impossible."

  "Go ahead and use it, Perri," he urged. "It'll wash out."

  "I know," she said, stalling nevertheless, not at all sold on the idea of making herself unattractive. "I was just reading the instructions. Are you sure it's necessary?"