Free Lights Out Tonight by Mary Jane Clark

expensive, too.”
    “They aren’t for sale,” said Jean. “Unfortunately, Remington won’t part with them. I wish he would. If he had sold the other paintings he’d done of Belinda over the years, they wouldn’t have been destroyed when his studio caught fire.”
    “What a shame,” Caroline uttered softly.
    “Oh, it was truly terrible,” said Jean. “The paintings were insured, of course, but no amount of money could make up for such a horrific loss.”

 C H A P T E R 
24
    The first act of dress rehearsal had gone almost without a hitch. Keith Fallows had come backstage when the curtain fell, and as he delivered his notes to the cast and stage technicians, everyone felt a little more relaxed, a little more in control.
    “All right, everybody,” Keith said. “We’ll go straight through till the end of act two, no matter what happens. We’ll meet here again afterward for my final notes. Now don’t forget. We’ll rehearse curtain calls, too, just to see how quickly we can all get onstage.”
    When the curtain went up on the second act, Langley Tate stood in the wings at stage left with a copy of the script in hand, careful to stay out of the way of actors entering and exiting. The first two scenes went smoothly. As she had all night, Langley focused on only one person. The lights came up again, and Langley watched Belinda Winthop standing across the set from her stage husband. Then Langley turned her eyes down to the script.
ACT II, SCENE 3
The same room, some time later. The fireplace is lit and, along with a lone lamp on one of the bedside tables, it provides the room’s only light. VALERIE and DAVIS are at opposite ends of the room, squared off for battle.
     
VALERIE:
What do you want from me, Davis?
DAVIS:
I do not want anything from you. What would ever make you think I needed you at all?
VALERIE:
Living with me, and making love to me, for fourteen years might have led me to suspect it.
DAVIS:
(Laughing.) Oh, that. You have confused need with convenience, I’m afraid. (Pause.) You have always been a little confused. It is a part of your charm. ( DAVIS walks to the other bedside table and turns on the lamp, speaking to VALERIE over his shoulder.) You have been looking a little tired lately, but you have been happy, have you not?
VALERIE:
Now you are the one who is confused, Davis. Happiness and fear are not the same thing—at least, not for the rest of us.
DAVIS:
Fear?
VALERIE:
Yes, fear. Maybe I am the only one. The only one who knows enough about you to know that fear is the only appropriate response to you.
DAVIS:
What is it you think you know, Valerie? ( DAVIS opens the drawer in his bedside table. He turns to face VALERIE .) Tell me, damn it. What do you think you know?
VALERIE:
I know that the scariest thing in the world is lying in bed next to someone who has sold his soul to the devil.
DAVIS:
I am flattered you thought I had a soul to sell. (Turning his back to VALERIE, DAVIS lifts a shiny pistol out of the drawer. VALERIE sees the pistol. She takes a step backward. DAVIS holds the gun loosely at his side.)
VALERIE:
Davis, I have known about the gun. You have kept it in that drawer for months so that I might lie here, night after night, afraid to close my eyes, afraid that, at any moment, you might put it to my temple and pull the trigger.
DAVIS:
Maybe I can convince you to pull the trigger yourself. Feel the cool steel, the smoothness. Listen to the click just before the end. Everyone would understand, you know. I would be sure to remind them, afterwards, how upset you have been lately.
    (DAVIS moves to the bedroom door, blocking VALERIE ’s exit. VALERIE opens the doors to the balcony.)
VALERIE:
Enough, Davis. This is not funny anymore. Even for you.
DAVIS:
I agree. It is not funny, but it is fun to consider the possibilities.
VALERIE:
Why not divorce me, then? Or leave me. I won’t give you any trouble.
DAVIS:
But that would not work at all, dear. I have never been a failure at