Lair of Dreams

“Yeah. So you’d better get moving. It’s gonna be a full house. I’ll meet you there on the front steps of the Ethi-Whatchamacallit at seven thirty.”


“Theta, I can’t. Sam and I are going to the pictures tonight—the theater owners asked for us in particular. They’ve got a special projector that can play sound on film! Isn’t that the elephant’s eyebrows?”

“Yeah. Terrific. Listen, tell Lover Boy there’s been a change of plans. If he’s gonna be married to you, he’ll have to get used to that.” Theta squinted hard at Evie. “Whatsa matter? You’re making a face like you got caught stealing cookies from an orphanage.”

“No, I’m not.”

“That proves it. You’re definitely guilty of something. Spill.” Theta folded her arms and waited.

“Oh, all right.” Evie sighed. “I need to confess to somebody before I go mad. This romance with Sam? It’s a publicity stunt.”

Theta slapped her hand on the bed. “I knew it! I smelled something as phony as your new accent!”

“Hey!”

“I know you’re crackers, Evil, but I’m glad to see you’re not that crackers. So was I right about you and Jericho?”

Evie hung her head. “It was just the one time. Oh, Theta. I’m such a terrible friend. I am the worst friend ever!”

“Don’t get fulla yourself. I’m not crowning you for it,” Theta grumbled. She drew hard on her cigarette. “If you’re really goofy for Jericho, you should tell Mabel. If he’s not dizzy for her, well, she can’t be sore at you about it.”

“Oh, yes, she can! You don’t know Mabel. Beneath that bleeding heart lies a grudge factory.”

“Well, she can’t stay sore at you forever—especially if you’ve spared her months of batting her peepers at a boy she can’t have.”

“But what if I don’t really like Jericho enough, not in the way he likes me or the way that Mabel likes him? Then I’ve led him on. Toyed with his affections and broken Mabel’s heart for a selfish whim.” Evie pulled the blanket up to her chin. “And then there’s Sam.”

Theta narrowed her eyes. “What about Sam?”

“Sometimes when Sam’s pretending to be in love with me, my stomach does funny things.”

“Well, get some milk of magnesia and stop it. Listen, the best thing you can do about Sam is play your part and forget about it. I know that type. He’ll have another tomato on his arm in twenty minutes.”

Evie frowned. “I’m not a tomato.”

Theta stubbed out her cigarette in a glass. “Evil, I know you—you’ll sort out this boy trouble. Frankly, it’s the least interesting thing about you. And right now, we got bigger problems.”

“Right,” Evie said, straightening up. “Henry. To the rescue we go.”

“I’ll see you at the egghead lecture at seven thirty. And seven thirty means seven thirty, kid. Eastern standard time. Not Evil-O’Neill-anything-but-on-time time.”

“You’re one to talk,” Evie groused. “You never make it to the theater when you’re supposed to.”

Theta tucked her clutch under her arm and held the hotel room’s door open with her foot as she yanked her gloves back on. “I like to give Wally the vapors, I’ll admit. But I’m always on time for my friends.”

“Yeah? Well… well,” Evie sputtered. “Well, at least I don’t smoke!”

Theta posed in the doorway. “You sure about that? Let’s set you on fire and find out.”

Evie hurled her pillow at Theta, who was quicker. The pillow hit the door and bounced onto the floor with the rest of the garbage.





At fifteen minutes past eight o’clock, Evie leaped from a cab on the corner of Sixty-fourth Street and Central Park West and rushed up the steps of the New York Society for Ethical Culture. A murderous-looking Theta glared down at her from just outside the closed doors.

“I said seven thirty,” Theta barked, grabbing Evie by the arm and steering her into the foyer. “Maybe instead of elocution lessons they should give you telling-time lessons.”

“Sorry, but at the last minute Mr. Phillips asked me to read something for his wife’s cousin. I couldn’t very well say no to the boss,” Evie huffed out as they pushed through the doors into the foyer, where Mabel waited. It was Evie’s second glare of the evening, although Mabel’s was more exasperated than murderous.

“Oh. Hi, Pie Face. I didn’t know you were coming,” Evie said.

“I happened to run into Theta on her way out, and since I’d planned to attend the lecture, I suggested we come together. She said she wants to know about dreams and the unconscious for her acting,” Mabel said.

“Yes. For her acting,” Evie said evenly and did her best not to look at Theta.

“The lecture’s already begun, though, and the usher told me absolutely no one can go in,” Mabel said.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll take care of it.” Evie flounced over to the man at the door. “How do you do? I’m Evie O’Neill. The Sweetheart Seer? Gee, I’m awfully sorry we’re late—I was visiting a children’s hospital, you see, and—”