Simon's Mansion

by William Poe

  Felipe, his face dead center in the rearview mirror, remained expressionless, his eyes refusing to meet Simon’s as he periodically turned to peer out the back window, unable to believe the success of their escape.

  A large billboard with a hand waving at its edge directed traffic off the highway toward a gas station, an advertising suggestion that Simon followed, pulling to the back of a major truck stop to find a secluded place to park behind an eighteen-wheeler, where he collapsed, resting his forehead against the steering wheel, emotions drained, courage spent.

  Thad reached around the seat to touch Simon’s shoulder and said, “Let’s get out of the car.”

  The group unfolded from the tiny vehicle. Thad rushed around the car to take Simon in his arms. The feel of Thad’s skin, the familiar brush of his Thad’s soft hair, the warmth of Thad’s tight embrace electrified every cell of Simon’s body. “I love you so much!” Simon cried out.

  Thad pressed his face against Simon and wept.

  Charlotte found a bench near the restrooms and sat with her knees pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. Felipe steadied himself, propped against the hood of the car.

  “I was so confused,” Simon whispered into Thad’s ear. “For the longest time, I didn’t know what was going on.”

  “I wanted to get a message to you. I tried.”

  “Don and Twiggy thought something was wrong when they saw you at the Spotlight, but they didn’t figure out what was going on. Anyway, nothing matters but this moment—we’re together! I can take you into my arms!”

  “I never wanted to be in that video,” Thad cried. “That’s how you knew, right? They made such a deal about planting that photo of us. It was a safe way of sending you a message. As soon as production was complete, they mailed a videotape to Sibley.”

  “I was so scared when it arrived that I took it to Dean and let him open the package.” Simon shuddered, realizing they had known his whereabouts. “Dean was sure from your picture on the back cover that you were scared.”

  “Forgive me, Simon.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Thad. This is my fault. I should have gone with you to California.”

  Thad held Simon’s face between his hands and gazed into his eyes. “I was afraid you’d think I left you. I couldn’t stand you thinking that.”

  Felipe overhead the conversation. “Señor Simon,” he said sotto voce, approaching them. “Señor Simon, Thad was made to do. Never he betray you, señor.”

  “I believe that, Felipe.”

  Though Felipe had starred in numerous adult films, he had never lost a sense of shame, and because of that, his humanity remained intact.

  “Señor, please, never watch film of Thad. Please, señor. That is not Thad.”

  Simon reached out to bring Felipe into the embrace with Thad. Felipe, vulnerable to feelings of forgiveness and redemption, burst into tears.

  “This is a touching scene,” Charlotte interrupted sarcastically, and with reliable pragmatism she insisted, “but let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Felipe straightened his back to stand proud and with a renewed sense of dignity. “You are Carlotta. Is true?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte confirmed, surprised that Felipe knew her name.

  “Sí. Irene—eh, wife of David—she mention company you made—eh, Chanteuse?”

  Charlotte tightened her scarf against the autumn breeze, an act signaling discomfort more than a reaction to the chill wind. “I want to hear what they know about my company, but for now let’s get moving. I don’t think anyone followed us, but I’ll feel better when we are farther away.”

  The foursome crammed back into the car. Simon drove to the front of the truck stop’s central building, past a group of shops, parked in front of a Howard Johnson’s restaurant, and dashed inside for a coffee to go. Afterward he filled up the efficient car’s minuscule gas tank and proceeded toward the highway with no plan except to drop off the car wherever they ended up, despite the extra charges they would incur for not returning it to the original location. He hoped Charlotte had enough money to cover it.

  “Felipe,” Simon called out as they entered the on-ramp, “what should we do? Do you need to stay in Italia? Do you have your passport?”

  Felipe laughed. “You make many questions. I have passport because MIFED police, they look for people illegal. I keep in pocket.”

  “You took a big chance leaving with us. You’ve made yourself part of this.”

  “Eh, sí. Emilio, David, they become very angry. Irene most bad, she make trouble for people.”

  “Then why are you laughing?”

  “Emilio y David, they fear la polizia when no in España. Italia is católico, home for Vatican. No like the people with sex film. You take risk, señor, go to polizia to make trouble. Is thing they most fear, the polizia.”

  Simon felt so weakened by apprehension, he could barely command his foot to press the accelerator.

  “Is no problemo, Señor Simon. David y Emilio, they will make argue, maybe give polizia money, eh, bribe. MIFED muy importante. They must sell film. No lose time. Now, they no follow us.”

  “And later?”

  Felipe’s face darkened. “Do not know, Señor Simon. Maybe they make much money. Maybe no more care.”

  Charlotte kept her attention fixed on the outside mirror. No matter how improbable it was, she worried that someone could have followed them.

  “They’ll want to get back at us, one way or another,” Thad sighed. “They are connected to the Mafia and know people all over the world. One call and a person drops dead.”

  “Charlotte, you might be right,” Simon hollered over the traffic noise.

  “What?” Charlotte asked incredulously. “Oh, you mean about hiding out? Damn, Simon, I don’t know what we should do.”

  Thad leaned forward to be heard more easily. “I need to explain a couple of things. When Emilio was at the ranch after David and Irene left, he kept flirting with me, saying that I could be a star—that he’d make a movie with me. One evening, in front of Emilio, Howard asked me how you were doing. Emilio had been pushing him for information about me, hoping to find the reason I didn’t want to be in a movie—that maybe I had a boyfriend or something. I tried not to react when Howard said your name, and Emilio didn’t flinch—but I saw his eyes burning. I wanted to get away that night, but Howard’s ranch is in the middle of nowhere. I was hoping I’d get the chance to drive his car to the store the next morning, ditch it, and catch a bus into LA.”

  “When you stopped calling, I tried to reach you. Howard disconnected the phone.”

  “Yeah, he did that the next day. Howard turned out to be a real dick. I wasn’t supposed to see it happen, but Emilio gave Howard a pile of cash.”

  “I worried that Howard might have sold you, and it sounds like he did.”

  “The cash also paid for a cameraman. Emilio asked Howard if there was a place in Hollywood where people might see me, people who would let you know about it.”

  “That scene at the Spotlight!”

  “Exactly. Howard remembered that I went to the Spotlight the night he took the crew to the Brown Derby for dinner. The cameraman Emilio hired is a real jerk. He wouldn’t have cared if they’d paid him to shoot a snuff film—with me as the victim. Before we got to Hollywood, Emilio said that if I tried anything funny, the next stop would be the desert, that I’d become food for coyotes.”

  “Sí, he would do.” Felipe nodded.

  “Do they know it was me who actually took their money?” Charlotte interrupted.

  Felipe listened intently to Charlotte’s question. “They know something wrong soon after send money. They get message and think you and Simon work together with police to catch them. Emilio try reach you, Señor Simon, but never get answer. Then no office telephone, no fax, no telex. Many months go by and they get very angry, but they give up—how you say, cut losses. They come to Howard only to make porno in Hollywood, not to find you.” />
  “I should never have sent them a message,” Charlotte lamented. “But I had no idea Simon had worked out a shady deal, that they were criminals. I just thought they were clients with a lot of money, and I didn’t want to lose them.”

  “When I was in the Barcelona office,” Thad remembered, “they were talking about the MIFED catalog and said that it listed some of Simon’s titles under your name and the company Chanteuse—Irene mentioned the telex you had sent. Felipe is right that they wondered if the note and the booth at MIFED were part of a setup to entrap them. They thought it was possible Simon had landed in jail and made a deal with the police. That’s the way their minds work. I wouldn’t know any of this if they had realized I understood their Spanish.”

  “I forgot about hearing you speak Spanish to our drag friend Patricia,” Simon recalled.

  “Just high school classes.”

  “Please, no speak Español to me,” Felipe laughed. “You understand, but, eh, speak no good.”

  Thad tapped Felipe on the head in a congenial way.

  “God, this is horrible,” Charlotte shouted. “Fuck, I started this.”

  “Yes, you did,” Simon accused.

  “At least the truth is out,” Charlotte sighed. “That’s something.”

  “Not much of something,” Simon chided.

  “Maybe all good,” Felipe offered. “David and Emilio have video and make much money.”

  “You mean the one with Thad and you?”

  “Sí, señor. They have video, you have Thad.”

  Felipe’s facial expression, as Simon glimpsed it in the rearview mirror, and Thad’s furtive response told Simon that making the video had not been entirely unpleasant.

  “How did they manage to get you to Spain?” Simon asked, still talking loudly to overcome the road noise.

  “After we got back from shooting those scenes in Hollywood, they locked me in a bedroom for two days. Then we all crammed into a private jet. We landed in Mexico without going through customs and from there took a commercial flight to Barcelona. They had found my passport going through my things at Howard’s. They gave it to me so I could get into MIFED and hadn’t had time to get it back from me.”

  “At least you and Felipe are free now,” Simon sighed.

  “You got paid for El Amigo Rico, didn’t you, Felipe?” Thad asked.

  “Sí. And much money in banco, eh, bank. I no more need make porno.” Felipe paused for a moment, then addressed Simon, leaning forward to put his mouth closer to his ear. “Can you take me to España? Yes? To Madrid? There is mi familia. Señors Emilio y David, they no think I have familia.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, the farther we get from Italy, the better. We can drop off the car in Madrid and fly back to the States from there. We’ll have enough money, right, Charlotte?”

  Simon saw Charlotte’s tentative nod in the rearview window. “Yeah, I guess,” she said.

  Thad waved something over the seat. “Thank God we needed our passports to get badges at the MIFED registration desk.”

  “Charlotte and I never even talked about how we’d get you home, Thad. We’d make terrible secret agents! Felipe, are you okay to cross the border?”

  “Sí, señor.” Felipe reached into his jacket pocket and held up his passport.

  The little band fleeing the world of kidnappers and pornographers drove across the border from southern France into Spain. Thad and Felipe felt the joy of released prisoners on their first day out. Charlotte felt more anxious than ever, and mad that she was losing her big chance at MIFED. And Simon, finally free of doubt, was more confident than ever of Thad’s love for him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Simon wanted to explore Madrid, to visit the Prado, and, if nothing else, to see The Garden of Earthly Delights and the corresponding hell-scape panel of Hieronymus Bosch’s famous triptych. But anxiety pressed the group onward, despite Felipe’s assurance that no one could possibly know that they had gone to Spain. Simon argued that Felipe’s dialect gave him away as someone raised near Madrid and that Emilio, David, and Irene would expect him to have friends there, even if they didn’t know about his family.

  “Eh, they think I go America,” Felipe assured. “They know I save money; now I have chance to go. Never think Madrid.”

  Simon hoped Felipe was right as he guided them to a small town about fifty kilometers southwest of Madrid.

  “Oropesa, it is muy small,” Felipe said as they approached the city.

  Oropesa was small, but the sight of its medieval castle made Simon wonder about visiting under better circumstances if he ever returned with Thad to see the Prado.

  “Mi familia, work at el Parador.”

  Simon paid little attention to what Felipe said until they neared the city and Simon realized that the restored castle was a luxury hotel.

  “Maybe best leave me with cars, eh, parking lot. I find family.”

  The tone of Felipe’s voice made Simon doubt his earlier assurances about them being followed. Watching for any strange vehicles following them, Simon found a parking space in the area designated for staff. Thad spoke to Felipe in awkward Spanish as he struggled from the back seat. Simon refused to allow jealousy to demean their moment of parting, though he knew a bond had formed between them.

  As Simon, Thad, and Charlotte drove away from the castle, Felipe stood at a service entrance waving vigorously until the car turned a corner and disappeared from sight. On the open road, flanked by sparsely populated farmland, Simon pondered his journey in life, starting when he’d first met Nicolò and embarked on a career in business after leaving Sun Myung Moon’s group, instead of following his true desire to pursue a career in the arts. Though Simon had no faith in providence, he firmly believed that people should pursue the life they were inclined toward, having no doubt where his heart resided.

  At the Madrid airport, Charlotte paid a hefty fee for crossing borders and traveling so many miles in the rental car. The flight they booked should have been direct to Los Angeles, but a strike by baggage handlers detoured the plane through Paris’s Charles de Gaulle Airport. Simon never felt such relief as the moment when a dour customs official completed his scrutiny of their passports, and they set foot on home turf. Even the taxi from the Los Angeles airport, bouncing on questionable shock absorbers, felt luxurious.

  Thad led Simon upstairs as soon as they entered the cliffside house through the tall front door, undressed, and watched as Simon shed his clothes. They held each other tight on the narrow guestroom bed, two bodies melded into one, love warding off worry and doubt—whether lingering from the past or gathering strength for the future. Nothing mattered but this moment in time.

  “Never doubt it, Simon, I love you,” Thad said, enraptured by delirious arousal.

  Simon had never felt as safe as that moment provided, but as he tried to sleep, held closely by Thad, his mind raced through recent events, worried he had allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of freedom. He carefully unwound himself from Thad’s arms and ventured downstairs in his robe, discovering Charlotte in the office beneath the garage, poring over recent faxes and downloading telexes through a dial-up modem. Simon remembered the space beneath the garage as cloistered and gloomy but private, a space to engage hustlers in sex while smoking cocaine. Entering now was to transverse a parallel universe.

  The message machine’s red indicator light flashed to alert of a new message—people had been calling. Charlotte held up a pile of faxes and pointed to the number of telexes still downloading. “I don’t know what I am going to say to people,” she sighed. “So many questions about why the booth at MIFED is vacant.”

  “I hope I never hear the term MIFED again,” Simon said wearily. “The film business did nothing but expedite my ruin.”

  Charlotte put down the faxes and placed her hands on either side of Simon’s face. “Stop it. You’re just going through a phase, some recovery step or something. You’ll get over it. The film business made you almost rich.
Your problem has to do with that religion that screwed with your head. Give it time—you’ll get back into the swing of things. You’re a natural-born businessman, Simon.”

  Inwardly, if not to Charlotte, Simon admitted that the capitalist game could be alluring: negotiating, logistics, challenges…profit! For all the personal and public turmoil Simon had endured as a member of Sun Myung Moon’s organization, he had been good at raising money, never letting himself consider the Moon family’s opulent lifestyle, a lifestyle he’d enabled by sending hundreds of members to parking lots and stoplights to sell cheap wares, sending millions of dollars to church bank accounts, accounts used to pay for mansions, private schools, and expensive wardrobes for the True Family.

  Charlotte replied to some of the telexes, using vague statements about medical issues coming up that made it difficult to travel. Disheartened, she led Simon upstairs, where they sat at the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area, balancing on barstools. Charlotte poured fresh brew from beans ground in a recently purchased coffeemaker.

  “I don’t know where my energy is coming from,” Charlotte said. “Coffee is the last thing I need, but I just can’t go to sleep. There’s so much work to do.”

  “We need to talk, you know.”

  “I know, Simon. But not now.”

  The coffee gave Simon a few moments of alertness, but soon exhaustion caught up with him. As Charlotte returned to the downstairs office, Simon retreated to the bedroom, crawling under the covers and embracing Thad. Images from El Amigo Rico played through Simon’s mind, images he tried to deny—that isn’t Thad, that’s a shadow of Thad; remember the love we shared—but it was Thad in the mental panorama, Thad making love to Felipe, both servicing Emilio. In a half-waking dream, David and Irene watched the threesome, jotting down notes; Irene, wearing an emerald robe, set down her pad and keyed numbers into an old-fashioned adding machine, pulling a level to print the results, the gray machine emitting the same sound that Vivian’s made when Simon had sat with her as a child and admired the speed with which she tallied the grocery store’s daily receipts. More dreams pursued Simon, spawned by anxieties from childhood: Simon’s abuse during baptism, his questioning mind succumbing to errant beliefs about the kingdom of God, and later, his drug-addled paranoia fueling fits of hysteria—Thad running off with Cicero—Simon rampaging through Hollywood with a butcher knife to kill anyone who might interfere with his vengeance—the tenderness of his lovemaking with Thad—theft—betrayal—the soft murmuring of Thad and Charlotte speaking downstairs—Simon forced himself awake.