Installation 25: Up In Smoke previous
James Trehorn called a second meeting of The Committee to Plan the Opening Reception for Ride the Snake to select the entertainers for the evening. Lars Auerbach had managed to find some ladies who billed themselves on the Internet as The Concubines of Columbus (Ohio) who were willing to travel to the opening if The Museum provided first-class airline tickets and hotel accommodations (which could not, they specified, be at the Super 8 or Holiday Inn.) Mary Ellen Hightower had a report to give on various acrobatic groups she saw over the course of the past month and Henry Rickenbottom had requested an audience with the committee to present his case that his band, the Stir Fries, be allowed to play at least one set.
Phoebe was in agony. It was a full agenda that promised to take at least two hours to get through. To make matters worse, James wouldn’t look at her. If forced to look in her general direction, he let his eyes drift just over her left shoulder. And then there was the fact that Fern was seated immediately to the right of James, taking up what little space could be spared at the head of the conference table and wearing the same sweater as Phoebe, only in a horrible teal instead of Phoebe’s heather gray. Fern took notes in shorthand. Shorthand!
James started the proceedings with a plea for hiring a jazz band.
“There’s nothing like jazz, wine, and maybe some salted nuts when viewing art,” he said.
“I enjoy Brazil nuts,” Fern said. “Although they had a very rude nickname when I was child.”
“If it's relaxation you’re after, my band plays some ballads,” Henry said. “We cover "The Rose," but it's, like, totally punked out.”
“Need I remind everyone that this is about sex,” Lars said. “Sex sells, people. The Concubines of Columbus will provide foot washes and for an extra $20 or $50 they’ll throw in some finishing touches.”
“Can I give my report now?” Mary Ellen asked. "I’ve spent the past three weekends going all over town seeing amateur acrobats. How many more men in tights and sequins do I have to watch flip through the air and only catch the bar 60 percent of the time?”
“That sounds like a fun hobby to me,” Sigrid Danforth said. Sigrid had not done her assignment of finding a hippo to rent for the night.
“Mary Ellen, you have the floor,” James said. “Everyone else will be silent except for Fern. Fern, if you have questions, please ask them because you’re new to the process.”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt with my silly questions,” Fern said.
“There are no stupid questions,” James said. “Only stupid people. Who may or may not have a drinking or drug problem.”
He looked directly at Phoebe for the first time since the meeting began. Phoebe blushed.
Mary Ellen opened a thick folder labeled “Acrobats” and took a deep breath. Just as she was about to begin, the lights went out. The conference room had no windows, so it made it impossible to see. Suddenly, there was a hissing sound, the smell of smoke and a dim light, like that cast by a flashlight with weakened batteries, coming from the corner.
“James Trehorn,” a voice boomed. “You will pay for your assignations against the young maiden, Phoebe Persons.”
People alternately gasped or giggled, depending upon their disposition. A cloud of smoke emanated from the corner, then came a flash of light that revealed a masked figure just as there was a loud crack!, crack!, crack! Everyone dove under the table. Later, Mary Ellen would insist it was gunfire although everyone else would be in agreement it was the sound of firecrackers.
Thirty seconds later, the lights came back on. Fern whimpered.
“Is everyone OK?” James asked, running around the room and bouncing off the walls like a panicked bat.
“James,” Sigrid said. “Get hold of yourself.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Henry asked.
“I don’t think so,” Lars said. “No thanks to you, James.”
“Headcount,” Mary Ellen said and began silently ticking everyone off.
“By my recollection and notes,” Fern offered. “We are all still present.”
“Wait,” Mary Ellen said. “Where’s Phoebe?”
Everyone looked to their left and right. They looked under the table. It was true - Phoebe was missing.