Ritz smiled. Yeah, she knew her eyes were the prize.
“Okay, are we ready?” she asked.
“Yep. Let’s keep it moving. And, Ritz, remember what Rutger said, go with Ian’s program.”
“I got it. I’m not leaving here without my talk show, Chas. You can believe that.”
“Oh, I believe that.” Sort of.
15
FRIDAY, 10:15 P.M.
HOLMBY HILLS, CALIFORNIA
IAN HALE’S MANSION
Ian’s redbrick, two-story mansion lay smack-dab in the middle between Rutger’s home and the Hugh Hefner estate. With large windows, white columns, and a front porch with a swing, the home was an elegant, yet out-of-place, antebellum relic.
Chas rang the bell. In an instant, the New Yorkers stood face-to-face with an ebony-complexioned, portly, middle-aged woman. She was clad in a black-and-white housekeeper uniform with a matching head scarf.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Ritz mumbled.
“How you doin’?!” the housekeeper said to Ritz excitedly. Ritz returned a lukewarm “Hello,” quickly followed by “Look at the throwback mammy,” which she whispered to Chas. He didn’t say a word.
The front porch led into an expansive entrance hall. Imported oil paintings and antique European furniture were among the visible symbols of Ian’s wealth. To the left of the entranceway was a parlor, a dining room, and a sitting room. A grand winding staircase led to the upper-level master bedroom and guest quarters.
Ritz’s eyes were drawn to a large, out-of-place mahogany display cabinet at the base of the winding stairs. Inside the cabinet was a collection of odd-looking drinking glasses, dolls, ashtrays, and postcards. She approached the cabinet and peered inside.
The soft voice of the housekeeper broke her concentration: “Ma’am, excuse me, Master Ian does not like anyone near his collectibles.”
Chas and Ritz traded glances as Ritz mouthed, “Did she say master or mister?”
Chas shrugged his shoulders. “And what in the fuck is she wearing?” he said under his breath.
“It’s called a uniform, sir,” the housekeeper responded, startling them both. “Not everyone works in Hollywood, sir. Master Ian wants you to join him in the parlor. Follow me.”
The house felt cold, despite the beauty and overall luxe, as if love never lived here. That feeling was cemented by the portly black housekeeper’s greeting. Her words were polite, but her smile never reached her eyes.
“Ritz Harper,” bellowed a pasty, stocky, bald, older man. He looked like a human egg, with red facial hair. “I’ve heard of you.”
“You have?” she said, thinking, Finally someone has heard of me.
“Of course I know of you. As diversity czar, it’s my duty to know what’s going on in the street.”
Chas extended his hand, but Ian gave him a big hug instead.
“I’m sure Rutger is expecting you to return,” Ian said. “It was great to meet you.”
The housekeeper approached and seemed eager to put Chas out.
“Ritz will join you later,” Ian added.
“Yeah, I was a little concerned,” Chas protested, albeit less like a man, and more like a mouse. “We came together; I thought we would leave together.”
Ritz said nothing.
“Just because you’re both here at the same time doesn’t mean you’re together,” Ian said with a chuckle. “Together implies a partnership, on some level. So, Ritz, are you together? Would you care to stay with me or leave with Chas?”
Ritz winked at Chas. “I will stay with you, Ian. I already know what Chas is working with!”
They all laughed. Chas kissed Ritz on the cheek and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. Just play the game. Play the game.”
Chas shook Ian’s hand and exited with the housekeeper. The two paused at the door.
Chas turned to the housekeeper before leaving. “How can you wear that? It’s so degrading.”
The housekeeper adjusted her head scarf. This time she flashed a genuine smile. “I know many guests have wanted to ask me that, but they never have. Since you asked, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m playing a role. Master Ian wants a mammy type to dust and answer the door. He’s got it. I want a six-figure income for doing next to nothing, and I’ve got it.”
Chas shook his head in disgust.
The housekeeper unlatched the door, but did not open it. “I would ask you how could you work for her because she’s degrading you. But I know you don’t have the answer.”
“What?”
“Sir, you don’t even know who she really is. That’s why you’re still shocked that you’re leaving here alone.”
She opened the door to the speechless Chas and said, “Good-bye.”
“Have a drink with me, Ritz?”
“Sure, Ian. Do you have champagne, Georges Vesselle?”
He laughed. “How about some genuine one-hundred-and-ninety-proof corn liquor? Some genuine Confederate truth serum.”
Ian winked as he poured a short glass of clear liquid and handed it to her. “This is a neutral concoction—tasteless, odorless, but quite effective.”
Ritz held the glass to her nose and winced. She babysat the drink.
“Go on, splash your tonsils!”
“You know, Ian, I haven’t eaten dinner, and, um, I don’t want to start with this. I don’t need the truth serum. I’ll tell the truth, if you do.”
“Fair enough. My credentials don’t make good conversation. I prefer personal questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you going to dictate what I ask, or do I have some control, Ian?”
“You can have some control. For now.”
“What’s behind your passion for diversity?”
Ian threw the corn liquor down his throat. He swished, swallowed hard, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and poured himself another.
“I do this to pay homage to my parents,” he said.
“Really? Tell me about it.”
“My mother was a homemaker. My grandfather was a surgeon, and he wanted that for my father. He told my father that if he didn’t go to med school, he would be cut out of the will. So my father did what every young man does when given an ultimatum to go to med school.”
“And what’s that?” Ritz smiled.
“He pursued exactly the opposite—he studied special effects.”
“Special effects? Wow. That must have been interesting for a young boy.”
“Yeah, it was pretty fantastic,” Ian said. “He built creatures and created deformities for many of the early horror films. He made a lot of money in this town. Hale was a good name then.”
Ian took a swig of the corn liquor. He confiscated Ritz’s glass.
“You really should have taken your truth serum. It’ll come in handy later.” He laughed.
“So, how did this lead to your passion for diversity?”
The red-faced man closed his eyes and revisited the past. “My father started his company in the garage of our home. He went around everywhere, hustling those little monster dolls, to theme parties, to circuses, anywhere there was a group of people with money to spend. And then Warner Bros. called. My father was making movies, he was a big shot. We bought this house. My father would bring rejected prototypes home for me to play with.”
Ian paused. He glared at Ritz—she could have sworn that the room temperature had dipped ten degrees. He poured another drink.
“And then…I left one of the toys on the stairs. My mother slipped on it and fell down the stairs and twisted her spine like a pretzel. Her legs were useless. My father hired Ms. Natalie to care for my mother.”
Ian threw the glass across the room. Ritz jumped as specks of shattered glass landed at her feet. “That was the first time I ever laid my eyes on a nigger woman.”
“What did you say?” Ritz was incredulous.
“Ms. Natalie, oh, she was so good at cleaning up after us. She was so good at cooking dinner for us. An
d she really wanted to be my mother. She was so good at seducing my father and me. My father was weak; that nigger mesmerized him. He made dolls in her likeness. He took photos of her and pinned those photos on these very walls.
“Ms. Natalie had me in a trance, too. We had great times. She was like a mother to me. My mother would call for me and I’d ignore her. I would hide. I was so young, I was six years old. What kid wants to sit in his mother’s room? I wanted to play in the yard with Ms. Natalie. Me and my father neglected my mother. We wanted Ms. Natalie.”
“You were just a child, Ian,” Ritz tried to comfort him.
“One night I heard my mother sobbing. That’s the worst sound a son could ever hear, his mother sobbing. Everything was my fault. I left my toy on the stairs. I broke her body. I brought that whore in this house. That time she called for me I obeyed. My mother told me to help her out of bed because she wanted to see the sunrise.
“I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to do right by her. We were doing so well at first. I remember holding my arms out to catch her as she rolled out of bed. She fell and landed on top of me. Her legs were jelly and she was so heavy. But she was laughing. She was so happy to be out of that bed.”
Ian’s eyes grew wild. He was in the moment, stretching out his arms.
“My mother dragged herself across the floor and stopped at the top of the stairs. She told me to run, go get my father, let’s show him the surprise. I ran into his study, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t on the back porch either. He wasn’t where he usually was, so I went into Ms. Natalie’s room, and that’s where I found them.
“They were naked and yelling at me: I should have knocked. I was a bad boy.
“That’s when we heard the screams, the horrible crash of flesh and bone tossing about every other stair. I ran after my mother, but my father grabbed my shirt. I wasn’t there to hold out my arms. I wasn’t there to catch her.”
“Oh my God, Ian, I am so sorry.”
“My mother was so mangled and bloody. Some nights I swear I can still see her shaking at the base of the stairs. My grandparents cremated her. Too many injuries for an open casket.”
Ian faced Ritz. “My father ran off with Ms. Natalie and didn’t come to the funeral. I asked my grandmother, ‘Why would my father leave me? Why would she take my dad?’ My grandmother told me, ‘That’s what niggers do. They take things that don’t belong to them. Even men.’
“That’s what you do,” he said to Ritz.
Ritz ignored the insult. Instead, she focused on the hurt behind it. “What happened to your father?”
“He was dead two years later, a massive stroke. Probably eating all that soul food. He left the bulk of his fortune to Ms. Natalie and their mutt children. She didn’t want this death house. Thank goodness for my grandfather’s estate or I would have been a penniless orphan.”
Ian’s forehead was slick with sweat. “So I do what I do in honor of my mother. A nigger broke up her home, destroyed her marriage. Destroyed our family. So diversity is important to me. I want to roll out the red carpet so you can get everything you’re due.”
Ritz shifted her body away from him. “You want to help blacks in this industry because of what Ms. Natalie did to you?” Ritz was puzzled. “Does this give you closure? I don’t understand.”
Ian ignored her.
Ritz scanned the room for the nearest exit or, if it came to that, a makeshift weapon. “Ian, I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“If I make you uncomfortable, you can walk,” he seethed. “You could walk, without your contract.”
The threat was effective.
“It’s a sad day when a white man is no longer in control of himself,” he spat. “You voodoo bitches…you’re unnatural.”
“I don’t like this conversation, Ian, and I’m not going to tolerate this shit.”
Ian squeezed Ritz’s hand and pulled her near. “You came here for something. You tolerate what I tell you to tolerate, or you’ll leave without it.”
Ritz wiggled free of his clammy grasp. “Ian, I have boundaries.”
“If that’s the case, you should leave now.”
16
The Walk
The walk back to Rutger’s house seemed to take forever. Chas’s mind was reeling from the beautiful surroundings. The luxurious homes reminded him of what he did not have. The future, his future, rested heavily on what Ritz did in that house. And what did Ian want with Ritz? What was happening? Was she cutting a lucrative deal for herself only? Would she play the game? What was the game, anyway?
Chas wondered if Ritz could make it in Hollywood. And he wondered if he could make it in Hollywood with Ritz. Or were they both being delusional now? Chas walked even slower, as if his shoes were filled with lead.
Chas knew the power of delusion—for years, he’d convinced himself of a future with that ruthless Rutger. For years, he’d promised himself that he would never return to the elusive lover who hurt him so.
Rutger was the first man ever to touch Chas; and to make love to him.
Prior to Rutger, Chas was the typical closeted black college kid, curious but fearful of the community’s backlash.
Yet he yearned for men.
He stared at his male roommate, Leonard, as he slept.
He fantasized about Leonard’s teammates. He jacked off to thoughts of spooning with his English professor.
Chas enrolled in mass-communication classes with an emphasis on sports production so that he could work with the football coach to tape the games. Chas wanted to be near Leonard to eavesdrop on him as he talked about fucking the easy girls. Chas imagined Leonard was fucking him.
During his junior year, Chas realized that sports production overwhelmingly placed him with straight jock clients, and thus he switched gears to entertainment production, with an emphasis on radio. In the wild world of music, the pickings would be more plentiful.
In 1999, Rutger and his girlfriend Ellie, two ivory-white, twentysomething jet-setters, arrived in New York City to catch a Broadway show and to bring in the New Year and, as many had erroneously thought, the New Millennium in Times Square.
At a quarter to midnight Rutger and Ellie would meet Chas and Leonard.
Chas and Leonard—Chas’s unsuspecting crush—were also in Times Square standing shoulder to shoulder with the Brits. Chas had a few beers, readying himself to accidentally cup Leonard’s ass when the ball dropped. What if Y2K did bring about the end of the world? Would Chas want to go out without having touched Leonard’s ass?
Chas was nervous, and the churning beer in his belly was making him queasy. Still, Chas couldn’t stop watching him.
Ellie couldn’t stop watching Leonard either.
The tall, cinnamon jock with the broad football shoulders and the thick, wavy hair was making her blond pussy pulse with desire. Ellie envisioned Leonard breaking into their hotel room and tearing at her panties as Rutger slept.
Ellie and Rutger had mentioned doing something naughty to bring in the new millennium. So why not?
Rutger was feeling a pang in his loins; he wanted Chas and he didn’t seek Ellie’s permission.
Rutger leaned into Chas and made small talk. “You blokes know how to throw a party.”
Rutger’s thick British accent, sweetened by liquor, caused Chas’s manhood to rise. Chas turned around and was mesmerized by the lean, dirty-blond six-footer. Rutger’s dimpled chin and clear blue eyes were equally hypnotic as his sinister grin.
Rutger was drunk off his ass, but perceptive. “You should take a picture of your friend’s bum, it lasts longer.”
“Huh?” Chas was mortified. Good thing Leonard was too dumb to know that bum is Brit-speak for “ass.”
Anyway, Leonard is distracted by Ellie, who stealthily offered him a blow job. “You know we can do it better, right, bloke?” she whispered in his ear. “You should join us.”
Leonard was speechless.
Rutger threw his arms around the handsome men and asked
them to show “the drunk Britons to their hotel.”
Chas and Leonard are in the Hilton hotel suite, awaiting room service. Rutger’s in the shower; Ellie is raiding the minibar. She removes a miniature bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
She hands the bottle to Leonard. “Sprinkle your privates…I’m thirsty.”
Chas’s eyes grow wide, awaiting the reveal of Leonard’s dick, finally.
That would have to wait, though. Leonard is upstaged by Rutger, who enters the room stark white and naked.
Rutger walks over to Chas, his soft dick swinging. “So, have you ever had a white one?”
“Huh?” Chas is too aroused to deny the gay rumors. Leonard’s eyes roll to the back of his head as Ellie puts her hot, wet mouth all over his dick.
She pauses. “Join me honey. This Jack on black tastes supreme!”
Rutger lowers himself to his knees. He places one hand on Chas’s thigh as he leans over and eases his mouth onto Leonard’s dick.
The suckling and moaning echo throughout the room.
Leonard feels two mouths sucking on him and his eyes snap open. He glances at Chas.
Chas is watching Rutger take long, strong draws of Leonard’s dick.
Leonard’s and Chas’s eyes meet, and Leonard doesn’t protest. He places his hands on top of Ellie’s and Rutger’s heads and allows them to devour him.
Rutger’s strong hand travels into Chas’s zipper. Chas lowers his pants and underwear. He allows his knees to fall in opposite directions. “I want some,” Chas murmurs.
Ellie stops sucking on Leonard and approaches Chas. “No,” Chas says. “I want some of him.”
Rutger led Chas to the unmade bed. He tongue-kissed him, then instructed Chas to lie on his belly.
Rutger massaged his dick with lubricant and lay on top of Chas. He situated his dick to caress—and then enter—Chas’s virgin asshole.
“Bear down on me,” Rutger told him. “Come on. It’ll only hurt a little bit and then you’ll be addicted to me.” Chas arched his back and allowed Rutger to go deeper.
Ellie and Leonard joined the two on the bed.
Ritz Harper Goes to Hollywood! Page 7