Innocent Little Crimes

by C. S. Lakin

  Suddenly, she knew she wanted to join this group. Yet, she would never have the courage to do it. How could she? She was no match for these students. They probably had taken acting lessons and performed plays all through high school. All Lila had to her credit was her fifth grade Christmas performance. But she knew, in that moment, that every chance she had she would be spent in this theater, watching an enchanting world. At the campus bookstore she flipped through a copy of “The Owl and the Pussycat,” then bought it on impulse.

  One evening Millie came home and hesitated at the door. She heard Lila’s voice, rich in inflection.

  “ ‘What a dope I was to listen to you. I’m going to save you, Doris! You are such a phony, I can’t believe it. You don’t write for money but you keep sending your junk to magazines, don’t you?’ ”

  Millie turned the doorknob. There Lila stood—before the full-length mirror mounted on their closet door, oblivious to Millie’s entrance. Millie watched in fascination, noticing Lila’s marvelous ability at switching from character to character, changing her voice and mannerisms with ease. Lila turned, then blushed at seeing Millie.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Oh, don’t be upset. I didn’t mean to snoop, but, hey, I’m impressed. You’re really talented.”

  “Come on,” Lila said, “don’t try to flatter me.”

  “You can act. I mean it.”

  Lila waved her away. “I love acting. I spent every minute I could, the last ten years, in a dark movie house. Memorizing all the parts. But I could never really act, not on a real stage in front of other people.”

  “Oh, sure you could. Why don’t you join, Li? I’d be there to give you moral support.”

  Lila shook her head. “No way.”

  Over the next month, Millie dragged Lila to rehearsals, in spite of her protestations. She knew Lila wanted to be there and Millie was glad to have her at her side, more to keep from feeling a loner than for Lila’s benefit. As much as Millie wanted to be included in the small group of actors, she understood they only tolerated her. They treated her professionally when on stage with her, but offstage she was invisible to them.

  The only one in that inner circle who spared her a few words was Dick Ferrol, and he was all jokes. Millie could tell he worked hard to stay in the clique. As the instructor sat with the students, discussing the day’s rehearsals, Millie often noticed Dick eyeing the others with envy. At breaks, when he hung around Jonathan and Davis—the two obvious leaders of the clique—he cracked jokes and exaggerated his experiences. Dick, like all the other guys in the group, tried to draw Della’s attention his way, but she smiled vacantly, pretending to be amused by his antics. Millie could almost smell the jealousy when Dick watched the sexual energy between Della and Davis, sometimes so distracted by their heated passion he would forget his entrances. The couple would be all over each other, hands roaming, mouths kissing, in the dark corners backstage. But, from what Millie gathered from the rumor mill, Davis was just another temporary amusement for Della.

  Millie, like all the girls in Thespians, was magnetized by Davis—his gorgeous looks, his easy confidence. When he said his lines, he radiated with charm. But she knew better than to hope to land someone like him. Even Jonathan, who was from New York, had too much confidence and street smarts to notice a small town nobody. He and Davis seemed to have girls on their arms wherever they went.

  So Millie set her sights on Dick. He was within her grasp. He lacked charisma and looks. But he did have a cute smile and a sense of humor. Rather than aiming for an acting career, he leaned toward public service. Millie appreciated his fevered speeches about Olympia and his involvement in the city council meetings. He would make his town better, develop bike paths and recycling centers, bring the ecology movement to Thurston County. Millie sat by him, listened to his jokes and laughed, complimenting him. When he made a move on one of the actresses and was snubbed, Millie appeared on the rebound, cheerful and admiring. Dick couldn’t fail to notice the loyal, devoted, yes, even worshipful Millie Stevens. And gradually, he began taking interest in the only girl who would give him the time of day.

  When Millie heard there were openings for stage hands, she dragged Lila over to meet the crew. With a little persuasion, Lila joined, because she could be invisible behind the scenes and still participate in the excitement of the theater. Stagecraft quickly became her favorite pastime. Always a quick study, she learned about lighting, set design, and audio engineering. In the evenings, she worked on the stage, painting and wiring, working with tools for the first time in her life. She memorized every line of the play, mouthing along with the actors. College life was an alien world to Lila. Most of her time she spent observing people, watching how they behaved and moved and talked. She blended in with any group by adopting their attitudes and expressions. She became a chameleon, learning the social graces denied her in her sterile home. Soon she was just one of the gang on the stage crew, making jokes and entertaining her peers and teachers alike. No one knew her background or sensed her deeply concealed anxiety. To all appearances Lila was a happy, confident student with an typical, middle-class past trailing behind her.

  Lila’s scholarship fell short of covering her expenses, so in the evenings she worked at Jo Mama’s, a restaurant that made unusual pizzas. Millie’s favorite was the banana with white sauce, (no cheese, of course), topped with almonds and pine nuts. Lila preferred the “Mafiosa,” with twenty-two toppings but impossible to finish. Sometimes, she feasted on leftover cold pizza for days, often the only food she could afford.

  Jo Mama’s was, hands down, the favorite student hangout in Oly, with cozy wooden booths and cheap beer. The tips weren’t great, but Lila enjoyed overhearing the students as she served them. Often she would silently mimic a patron with a different accent or personality. Back at the dorm, she would demonstrate to Millie, who laughed appreciatively. Millie was the only one Lila revealed her talent to, the only one Lila trusted with her secret dream. Millie wished her roommate would take the chance and show the Thespians her talent. They could use a natural like her, she told Lila, time and again. But Lila refused. Maybe later, next year. She was only a freshman and had a lot to learn.

  Winter settled in over Olympia with damp cold and morning frost. Davis held Della loosely in his arms under the down comforter draping his bed. The small house he rented in Boston Harbor afforded him a serene view of the Sound and the luxury of privacy. Rather than live in Oly, Davis preferred quiet and isolation, away from the downtown traffic and campus bustle. Boston Harbor stretched over rolling hills lushly packed with evergreens along the water’s edge, yet only a five minute drive to school. Sometimes, on an unusually sunny day, he’d take his canoe out and paddle to campus. His father insisted he go to college, but Davis didn’t intend to work hard. That’s why he picked Evergreen. You designed your own program and picked your core study and worked at your own pace. It took a little convincing to get the old man to agree to Evergreen instead of an Ivy League college, but fortunately TESC had a good career placement record. So without too much dissension, Dad acquiesced to Davis’s desire.

  Why should he stoop to living in a dorm, sharing a room and communal bathroom? So much nicer to live alone, without anyone getting on his case about washing dishes or taking out the trash. And the other students envied him—his house became the place to party, with no close neighbors to voice complaint.

  Della spent many nights over at Davis’s house. She shared a dorm room with two other women, neither of whom she liked. Staying at Davis’s was like a night at a Hilton hotel by comparison. For Della, much of her involvement with Davis had to do with the allure of a comfortable, warm bed.

  As they lay together, a light snow drifted to the ground. Della stared out the window at the cloudy sky. “I hear Russel’s getting flack from administration. He’s not going to give both of us lead roles.”

  Davis looked at the clock. Three in the morning and he was fading. Della was wide awake, smoking
a cigarette. She fidgeted in bed and that annoyed Davis. He reached for her and stroked her back, hoping she’d relax.

  “Come on, Del. Let’s get some shut-eye. I’m beat.”

  “`And why the hell did they choose ‘Picnic?’ Another corny girl-meets-boy thing. Why can’t we do something really modern, experimental? I’d love to do Beckett. Or Ionesco. Have you read that stupid play yet? It’s boring.”

  Davis grunted and buried his nose in her hair. He kissed her neck. Just the scent of her skin aroused him. He could tell from her lack of response that she wouldn’t be tamed. He changed the subject. “Only six months left. What’re you going to do after graduation?”

  “Do you have to bring that up again?” Immediately Della’s stomach tightened. School had been her safe haven for four years. Her aunt’s money had barely lasted until now. Only by constantly borrowing money and letting friends pick up the tabs at restaurants had she been able to stretch her meager allowance this long without getting a part time job. Why did Davis always bring up the subject so cheerfully—like graduation was some exciting adventure to embark upon?

  She knew why; he had tons of money. For him, it was an exciting adventure. His money was the reason she went after him in the first place. Never mind that he was sexy as hell. After all the older men she’d picked up at the resorts waitressing in the Catskills, Della knew how to lure a man in, and Davis was an easy conquest. In bed, she showed him things she knew he never experienced, not even in his dreams. She knew how to satisfy, yet keep him begging for more. All that mattered to Della was power, keeping Davis on her string.

  “Davis,” she said, stroking his chest, “are you still thinking about going back to Marin, really?”

  “It’s a tempting offer, Della. Guaranteed money.” He didn’t want to tell her about his father’s recent ultimatum: pursue acting and he’d be financially cut-off. The idea of scrounging for money was not only unacceptable, but demeaning. Other people, unfortunate people, had to do that.

  This new talk about going into real estate set Della on edge. Whenever Davis brought up San Francisco and his social set, she envisioned herself wandering the marbled floors of a sprawling home, bored and restless. Why didn’t he want to go to Hollywood and become a star? They’d been planning it ever since they got involved; their careers were waiting. Every time she questioned him about it, he shrugged. Like it was his destiny to sit at a desk all day and push papers. Della wanted excitement, action, glamour. The only thing that thrilled her more than sex was applause. And all the attentive worship acting garnered for her. She felt herself sinking into despair. All that effort reeling Davis in, and now he was backing out. How could she get to Hollywood without someone to pay her way?

  Della rolled over away from Davis. He wrapped his arm around her waist and fell asleep, leaving Della to fume.

  The day before the Christmas performance, a festive mood hung over the cast and crew. They hung tacky holiday decorations backstage and placed little effigy dolls of Della and Davis, the stars of “The Owl and the Pussycat,” on a carrot cake. Lila found herself saddled with the responsibility of checking props, so she stationed herself in the corner of the storage room, going over her list. She could hear laughter and singing as the class indulged in refreshments.

  Millie peeked her head into Lila’s cramped space.

  “Hey, come on out and have some fun for a change.”

  Lila shooed her away. “Someone’s been rearranging all the stuff. I don’t even know if everything’s here.”

  “It can wait. Come on out—I can’t handle the assault of Dick’s bad jokes by myself.”

  Lila didn’t care much for Dick, but she never said as much to Millie. The harsh way he treated Mil reminded Lila too much of her own father. It bothered her that Millie tolerated it, anxious for a little male attention.

  Lila reluctantly came out and joined Millie and Dick.

  “Hey, Li, how’s it going in the dungeon?” Dick said as he sipped his drink. “A nasty job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

  “Nice of Lila to volunteer, don’t you think?” Millie asked him. He only grunted in reply. His eyes followed Della as she sauntered around the room. Millie touched his sleeve.

  “Can I get you some cake?”

  Dick turned back to Millie. His expression softened. “Sure, hey, that’d be nice.”

  “Be right back. Come on, Li.” Millie tugged at Lila’s sleeve and dragged her to the food table.

  “He certainly notices you now, Mil.”

  “Yeah,” Millie said. “But he can’t take his eyes off Della.”

  “Neither can anyone else. Do you believe what she’s wearing? You can see right through that dress, even in this light. I could never wear anything like that.”

  Millie sighed. “Me neither. But, if I had her body I’d sure be tempted to.” Millie cut two slices of cake. “Want some?”

  Lila shook her head.

  “Oh come on, Li. No, dieting tonight. Time to party. Let’s go off our diet just this once. twenty-four hours—I swear.”

  “All right.” She took a slice from Millie’s hand. “But I really have to get back to work.” She started for the props room.

  Millie yelled after her. “Party pooper!”

  At the desk, she marked off her list: ashtray, small pocket comb, box of Band-Aids, three drinking glasses, one pot holder. She rummaged behind some boxes, and when she lifted her head, she nearly bumped into Davis’s face.

  “Hi,” he said. Lila caught her breath. Davis had never spoken to her before, or even looked at her for that matter. And now he was in her face, smelling of alcohol. She took a step back and tripped over a stack of boxes.

  “Hey, careful.” Davis grabbed her by the arm and helped her stand. “I’m Davis.”

  “Lila. Carmichael.” Lila searched for something else to say. Davis was smiling at her, his eyes glazed over. He gave her a sly look.

  “Yeah. I’ve seen you around the set. Working in stagecraft this semester?”

  Lila nodded. She had watched him from a distance as he rehearsed the play, and admired his talent. But being this close unnerved her. Lila fumbled. She smoothed out her clothes.

  “Listen darling, by any chance have you seen my stage copy of the play? I thought I left it out yesterday . . .”

  Lila reached into the desk drawer and pulled it out. “I cleared the set this morning.”

  “Oh, you’re a love. I’ve got some phone numbers in there—” Davis hesitated, then smiled. “It’s good to know someone’s got it together around here.” He pocketed the playbook. “Hey, Merry Christmas, Lila Carmichael.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

  Later that night, Lila asked Millie, “What’s the story with Davis and Della? Are they serious about each other?” Lila was familiar with the couple’s backstage fondling, but unsure how to read it.

  “Are you kidding? They both go through partners like it’s nothing. You watch—after vacation Della will be buzzing around some other victim. And Davis will be necking with someone else in the corner.”

  Lila’s heart sunk. How could someone be that popular—and that promiscuous? Della, she could believe, but Davis? He seemed so sincere. Her mind rejected the idea that Davis could be so insensitive, flitting from one woman to another. But, then, what did she know about the “real world”? Her father would describe it as a hotbed of sin—all these students sleeping around. She tried to imagine men swarming around her; the thought terrified more than excited her. But who was she kidding? She was the proverbial beautiful soul locked in a frumpy, fat body. She thought about Davis kissing her cheek, remembering the warmth of his skin radiating close to hers. Her heart raced. How ridiculous, thinking about Davis. Yet, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Yeah, you and fifty other girls. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a thin Samuel French booklet. She didn’t see Millie come in.

  “What’s that?” asked Millie.

  Lila showed her the cover.
“Picnic.”

  “Are you going to try out this time?”

  “No, Mil. We’re starting on backdrop design.”

  “Over break?”

  “Well, no one’s going home for vacation. Certainly not me. So, why not?”

  “Let’s go skiing instead. You ever tried it?”

  “No thanks, Mil. I’m too much of a klutz, or haven’t you noticed? I’d break my leg.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Take Dick. You could cuddle up by a cozy fire and drink hot chocolate. Sounds romantic to me.”

  “Forget it. He’s spending the break with his mother. In fact, I’m going to her house for Christmas Eve dinner, can you believe it?”

  “That sounds serious, Millie. Going home to meet Mom.”

  “I know. I’m scared to death.”

  “Don’t worry, she’ll love you. You can think of me while you eat turkey—slaving away at Jo Mama’s and scarfing on cold pizza.”

  “I’ll bring you some leftovers.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot.” Lila opened to the back of the play and scanned the page. “Get this: one milk bottle, chocolate cake, mixing bowl with deviled eggs. I’m getting hungry just reading the props list.”

  “It’s a picnic, what do you expect? And I love the way you study a play—from the back first.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure this great talent will get me far in life. Reciting cereal boxes backwards. Now, there’s a job description aching to be filled. Come on Mil, let’s get to bed. Tomorrow’s the performance. I need my beauty rest to count props.”

  The show played to a full audience. Millie stood offstage with Lila, helping her direct props. Dozens of items had to be moved on and off, but the show progressed smoothly. When they got to the scene where Della kissed Davis, Lila’s eyes riveted on the pair. She imagined herself on the stage instead of Della, wrapped up in Davis’s arms. Millie nudged Lila.