Whipped: An Arthur Beauchamp Novel(103)

“I don’t.”

“Okay, she got a lead role in a romantic comedy, and she’s giving a free advance screening at the hall next weekend. She was a little evasive when I asked about adult content but I got the impression it’s real risqué, with maybe nudity and worse. I don’t want to use the word orgy, but . . .” He shrugged, then added, unnecessarily, “Everyone’s going.”

He handed Arthur a flyer depicting Mookie sitting in a circle of smiling fellow actors, male and female, joined in a chain of hands, their bare feet gathered in a tangle of toes at the centre. No nudity, but lots of skin. The Awakening, it was called.

A few lines of promo: “When her husband confesses he has a gay lover, she seeks solace in group therapy. But as she searches for her inner self things go sideways.” A cast list, none of whom Arthur had heard of. Free popcorn and beer. No parental advisory, so Forbish was likely a victim of his own fantasies.

This was an event Arthur would happily miss.

He carried on up to the store and the post office counter. Abraham Makepeace was still sorting the mail.

“Something from your classical book club, it’s Greek to me. Hydro bill, your usage is up. Invitation to join the beach cleanup at Starkers Cove. Those Transformers left quite a mess that’s just been sitting there all winter. Spooky how they just vanished into the void.”

They still held title to the Cove. Reverend Al had gotten nowhere trying to track them down. Google had failed to do its job — just some old references to Silverson’s film career. Maybe the gupa made them invisible.

Makepeace dipped into the bag of unsorted mail, brought out a thick envelope. “I can’t help you with this one. Return address is a P.O. box in Porcupine Plain, Saskatchewan, if that’s a clue.”

This would be Lou’s miscellany of questions seeking clarifications and the filling in of holes. Arthur had spent many hours with him. He’d wanted Arthur’s every thought, conjecture, musing. He had a provisional title: Whipped.

“Oh, and this. Normally, you don’t like throwaways, but you don’t want to miss this one.” Mookie’s flyer for the screening of The Awakening. “I heard she’s in a raunchy bedroom scene.”

“Heard from whom?”

“Nelson. He got the whole scoop.”

Arthur tossed it. “My wife will be here next weekend. We have other plans.” Just you and me. Nonetheless, he would congratulate Mookie. He crossed the ramp to the patio as she and Herman rose from a table where they’d been entertaining friends. Taba among them, and Cud Brown.

“Get the bill, darling,” Mookie said. Herman obeyed like the faithful footman he was — his was a captive heart, despite their quarrels. Tradition required them to maintain the peace for at least a month after each rejoining.

Mookie intercepted Arthur. “Caught you in time.” Though they were only casual friends, he got a wrap-around hug.

“Glad to see you, Mookie,” he said awkwardly, pasted to her bosom. He untwined and offered appropriate words about her success and her new film. “It sounds . . . interesting.”

“I’m doing a special mail-out to special people.” She passed him a card, a formal invitation to Arthur and Margaret to attend the showing. Front-row seats reserved. Also a note requesting the pleasure of their company at an after-party at the Schlosses’ waterfront estate.

“That’s very kind of you, Mookie. I’m really not sure . . .”

“Now don’t get all curmudgeonly and silly. It’s not Casablanca, but it’s fun.”

“I’ll take it up with Margaret.” That was his out. She wouldn’t want to see this banal and doubtless corny flick, free popcorn or not.

Taba had seen Mookie’s big hug and gave him a saucy wink, another of her uncalled-for reminders of their brief entanglement. He wished she would stop teasing him over it.

Mookie offered a farewell salute to her tablemates. “See you on the nineteenth, darlings. Seven o’clock.”

With no more free rounds coming, Cud Brown downed his double whisky and rose. He also had a special invitation and flashed it at Arthur. “I got second row centre for this sizzler, man. Forbish says it’s got a nudity warning.”

Emily LeMay was already pouring Arthur’s tea as he hoisted himself onto a stool beside Constable Dugald, who was frowning over the Awakening leaflet. His subaltern, Zoller, was behind, hovering — though newly elected as Trustee, he’d stayed on as the island’s number two law enforcer. Dugald still treated him as a peon.

“Forbish told me it has an orgy and other scenes of fornication,” Zoller said. “Maybe we should have an advance look at it in case we have to cut some scenes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur said. “Mookie isn’t about to embarrass herself and her husband in front of the entire island.”

“I have to go just in case,” Dugald said. “If it gets too specific, I’m gonna have to shut it down.”

“Sounds like something I could handle, sir,” Zoller said.

“I’ll need you outside, Kurt. Crowd control. Make sure no under-agers sneak in.”

Zoller took offence. “Excuse me, but yours truly just got elected by acclamation to the highest office on this island. Any idiot could watch the door.”

“Exactly.”