Going Down in La-La Land

by Andy Zeffer

  Why did he feel the need to point out my porno past not only once, but twice? Taking a hint I didn’t feel like getting into the specifics of how a simulated ass fuck should flow and what it should look like, he finally told my costar to thrust himself against me and that I remain passive and let myself be pushed forward, which worked.

  Shortly thereafter it came time for me to say my last line, my character asking impatiently for his pay so he could go to his gig in Vegas. When that was done I was wrapped and free to go.

  That evening John and I stayed at home and ordered in his favorite Chinese takeout from Chin Chin on Sunset. I told him in detail the events of my first day on the set.

  “Hey, I’m proud of you babe. It’s a start, and I’m sure the film will do real well. These guys sound like they know what they are doing,” he beamed.

  “You are so sweet, you, know that,” I said, grabbing the back of his head and pulling his forehead toward mine. “Even though it’s a theatrical release that I still wouldn’t feel comfortable bringing my mother to, you just made me feel like a million bucks!”

  “Hey! You don’t know your mother wouldn’t like it. Didn’t she like Boogie Nights?” John asked.

  “I don’t think that movie is her thing either,” I said.

  “You might just be right about that,” he agreed, biting into an eggroll.

  “Have I told you just how happy I am you’ve come into my life?” I asked, nibbling on his ear.

  “Don’t tell me, show me . . .” his voice trailed off, eyes closed and head falling backward.

  We proceeded to enjoy the rare comfort of a quiet night at home. No entourage, no riffraff, no crowds and cameras to deal with—just the two of us.

  Dale Pays a Visit

  I wasn’t so lucky a few nights later. John had an event to attend and would be out late. I decided to spend the night at Candy’s, do some laundry with her, and just hang out.

  Unfortunately, street parking wasn’t abundant that particular evening. After driving around the block a few times I settled on a spot a block and half away. Walking briskly toward the building, I heard a car door slam behind me and the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming my way.

  Be cool, I told myself. Before I turned around I heard a familiar voice say, “Hey, Adam, wait up man!”

  It was Dale.

  I broke into a sprint toward the building.

  “Get away from me before I call the cops,” I threatened.

  “Just listen to me!” Dale implored in a panicked voice.

  “Help!” I yelled.

  “Listen!” he had caught up with me and grabbed me by my shoulder, forcing me around to face him. I pulled away and put my arms up, ready for whatever was to come.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, dude! I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I just need a little money. Can you do that for me? Huh? Anything— fifty bucks, twenty bucks?” Dale begged.

  He was worse than a mess. He looked downright indigent. He reeked of body odor and his face had not been touched by a razor in weeks. His hair was greasy and shaggy underneath a soiled baseball cap, while his face looked gaunt and broken out. There were numerous bumps on his face and neck. It was as if all the chemicals he was putting into his system were trying to escape from his body through his skin. Apparently he had been habitually picking at them as well, as many were open ulcers that were either scabbed over or oozing.

  “Oh my God, Dale. You need help. Are you trying to get any help?” I pleaded.

  “I know dude, I know!” he whimpered, tears streaking down his face. “I’m trying. But in the meantime I have nothing to eat. Please, help me out,” he sobbed.

  I just stood there in disbelief.

  “Please!” he begged again, this time with even more desperation.

  All of a sudden I heard, “Get the fuck out of here!” Candy was leaning over the balcony, phone in hand.

  “Adam, are you okay? I’m calling the cops! You better leave motherfucker!” she screamed.

  Dale looked at me with sudden desperation.

  “Please!” he begged once more.

  Shaking, I grabbed my wallet, managed to pull out some twenties, and handed them to him.

  “Dale, please go find some help. Maybe the community center. If you want me to make some calls for you . . .”

  “I know. I’m going to. I promise,” he said.

  “The cops are coming!” Candy announced. “I’m coming down there too with a bat!”

  Bless Candy’s soul. There was a lot she owned, but one thing I knew for sure she didn’t own was a baseball bat, but she had my wellbeing at heart.

  “Look, you better go,” I said.

  “Thanks, Adam, I love you for this man. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry I hurt you,” he sobbed.

  With that he ran back to his car, turned on the ignition in a flash, and screeched off into the night.

  This time Candy made me file a restraining order. Not that it was going to do much good. Chances were Dale had probably lost his place by now and couldn’t be found.

  Orly came out of her apartment to see what all the fuss was about, wearing nothing but a Victoria’s Secret negligee much too inappropriate for her age along with all her jewelry, of course.

  “Ad-deem! You must be very careful with all the crazee peeples in dees town!” she scolded, then proceeded to flirt with the cops and ask them unrelated questions about the neighborhood for minutes afterward. I thought she was going to invite them over for a nightcap.

  When the cops finally left, Candy and I sat at the table with some tea and tried to calm down a bit.

  “Oh fuck it,” I said. “This ain’t doing shit to calm our nerves. Let’s crack open a bottle of wine.”

  “Good idea,” Candy agreed.

  Tonight there was no joking, nothing to make light about. It was just sad and pathetic. Watching another human being destroy themselves had to be one of the most painful experiences in life.

  “Oh, my gay nerves. Oh, my gay nerves,” I repeated over and over again. “My gay nerves are fried.”

  “You’ll be okay,” Candy muttered as she struggled with the cork. “The human body is pretty resilient. It has a way of mending itself.”

  “It better. I think it’s aged twenty years just in this past year alone. Talk about sensory overload, and ups and downs,” I said.

  “You wanted an exciting life. That’s what brought you to the big city,” Candy remarked.

  “I had visualized exciting in a dynamic, invigorating, thriving way. Not exciting in a crazed, directionless, demoralizing way,” I whined.

  “Look at it this way, Adam, we’re experiencing the wild side early on,” she reasoned, then changing the subject asked, “So why did you give him money?”

  “I just felt so sorry for him. Even though he attempted to cut my face up that day in the warehouse, I think it was just the sheer desperation. It’s like he is completely disgusted with himself and what he is doing, he just doesn’t know how to stop.”

  “Or not disgusted enough to want to stop. You know what they say. Once you hand out a few crumbs you’ve got them pecking at your door for good,” Candy cautioned.

  “Actually no,” I remarked, “I never heard that.”

  “Okay, I just made it up,” Candy said in a testy yet humorous tone. The first bit of humor all night. “I just hope he doesn’t come lurking down the street again, all right!”

  “I don’t think so. I think that’s the last we’ll see of him.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Candy dismissed.

  “I don’t know,” I answered simply. “I just get the feeling.”

  It’s a Wrap

  My second day on the set of The Voyeur wasn’t scheduled until a few weeks later. The days until then had been quiet. I hoped all my troubles were behind me. This scene was at Missy Manhandler’s birthday extravaganza and was being filmed in some hole in a wall bar on Fairfax that had been re-created inside to resemble a decent club. I thought it
might be stranger than then my first time on the set, only because with Missy being there I was reminded even more of my days at HUNG Video.

  The bar had regular drag performances, so there was a stage and a dressing room in the back. When I arrived for my call time, the cast and crew were sitting down to lunch. I drove my car along the side street where the trucks, catering, and dressing room trailers were set up and waved to Perry and Mitch, who shouted greetings and waved back. When I had parked my car I sat down and joined everyone to eat.

  What did make me excited about today was my wild getup wardrobe had given me. It consisted of my own white cowboy hat bought on Melrose, a silver leather jacket, silver boots, silver lamé G-string, and a silver holster with two toy guns that shot off confetti. I only had two lines, in which I drunkenly approach and interrupt the lead character then shoot my guns off in the air and saunter away.

  Before my scene was set up, the rock diva that was the star of the production had some dialogue to shoot. The directors and a few crew people personally escorted her from her dressing room trailer to the bar. After I was in my getup and sitting in the makeup chair she walked by, looked me in the eyes, and practically purred hello.

  This woman was the fucking essence of cool. A downtown New York legend I’d loved since childhood had looked me up and down in my sexy cowboy gear and greeted me. That moment alone made being involved with the film worth it, no matter how successful it turned out.

  Being the biggest name attached to the project, they wrapped up the rock goddess first and then it was on to the rest of us. After lunch many people began to arrive on the set. Because the setting was a party, plenty of extras were needed. I hid out in the dressing room of the club with the Dutch costume designer and her assistant, both of whom I had bonded with.

  The dressing room was plastered with pages ripped out of fashion magazines such as Vogue and Elle. On the ceiling was a fabulous poster of Diana Ross from the 1980s, on which she wore her hair in a new wave, Mohawk sort of style. The drag queens that normally performed at this dump had a field day decorating their dressing room, which appeared to be an ongoing collage in progress.

  Soon Missy arrived on location, already dressed to the nines in all his magnificence. He had scared the shit out of some poor PA who was trying to direct him into a tight parking spot, and blamed the poor sucker for causing him to bump his car into the one parked behind. Wearing a white platinum wig, colorful airbrushed eye makeup, and a black latex outfit with black ostrich feathers, Miss Manhandler was a sight to behold. His backup band was just as outrageous, and ready for the rock number they were going to perform in the film onstage.

  Missy wasn’t the only porn superstar on set. Evidently Perry was friendly with straight porn legends as well. Ron Jeremy, the male porn actor otherwise known as “the hedgehog” was in the scene as well. He sat near the door to the street in a chair, resembling a pudgy, droopy-eyed dog.

  I had heard that Ron Jeremy never misses a chance to ham it up in front of the camera in a mainstream project, and craves a successful legitimate acting career more than anything else in the world. Evidently The Voyeur was no exception.

  When it came time for my scene we had to rehearse it a few times and get the blocking straight. I was to enter and interrupt the two leads at just the right beat. The first time I did it was ridiculous and I had no idea what I was doing, popping out of nowhere like a gay wizard. After a few more rehearsals we finally got the timing down. In between these run-throughs and the actual take, Mitch took me aside and quietly told me, “Just make sure you are careful when you approach the lead. He doesn’t want to be touched.”

  I looked at Mitch like he must be kidding.

  “I haven’t touched him at all,” I responded point-blank.

  I’m not an oblivious person, or some yokel who never left the farm. I could tell this big “star” had issues. I wanted nothing more than to perform well and get on with my business. Please. It sounded as if it was all part of my diabolical plan to make a pass at the guy. Give me a fucking break. This was exactly the sort of ego bullshit I despised.

  “Why, was he bitching about me doing that?” I asked incredulously, and frankly, pissed off.

  “No, don’t worry about it. He’s just sensitive about it, that’s all,” Mitch said, quick to change the subject, not wanting it to become an issue. He rolled his eyes as if to tell me he had dealt with the same crap from him on previous occasions.

  Apparently Mitch and Perry had to work hard to keep their star happy. I guess his insecurity about taking on this scandalous role escalated in the past few weeks, from worrying about bathing suits to becoming paranoid about other actors getting too close. Never mind the fact he simulated anal sex with me the last time we saw each other. Evidently he lost respect for me when he found out I had appeared in actual porn flicks. Or maybe seeing me again just reminded him he wasn’t at the level of Brad Pitt.

  Needless to say, I didn’t give two shits about him. My reasons for being here had nothing to do with fawning over the lead actor. I was here to be professional and do well for personal reasons.

  With all that in mind I gathered up my pride and after a few takes wrapped the scene, ending each time with my toy guns provided by the prop guy exploding confetti into the air. When that was over we broke for another meal, and I spent time blabbing with Missy and some of the other actors from my other day of filming.

  I stuck around for Missy’s big performance, which was really quite entertaining. Miss Manhandler covered the old Blondie classic “One Way, or Another” with gusto. I was placed at the front of the stage, but I would have stayed and watched it if I were off camera as well. Standing in the crowd I waved my hat around like I just arrived at some twisted gay rodeo.

  “I’m gonna getch-ya, getch-ya, getch-ya, getch-ya!” the whole room screamed like a bunch of maniacs at the end of the number.

  The day dragged on and on, with the countless party scenes being filmed.

  After a while I grew tired of sitting in the drag dressing room, which at this point was beginning to look very grimy, especially with countless people parading in and out. That coupled with all the junky crap I kept eating from craft services made me more than eager to get home. It didn’t seem that I had anything else to do, and Perry and Mitch didn’t have time to notice I was there anymore. So I took off the wild outfit, put on some normal clothes, said my good-byes, and drove home.

  I had finished my first real speaking role ever, and it was feeling really cathartic, almost like a heavy weight had been taken off my back. At least I had done some legit acting in Hollywood.

  I thought back to how I used to dream about being in movies as a kid. I owned all these huge photo books of the old movie stars, biographies, even Oscar trivia books that I would read over and over. It was a realm I could escape into, a means of dealing with the pain of not belonging, not feeling accepted. I was obsessed with this image of old Hollywood, a world that really didn’t exist anymore. I was always a dreamer, but becoming less so as time wore on.

  Still, though all my dreams hadn’t been answered, I was living a damn good life with the best job I ever had and a man I adored. Our relationship might have been covert and undercover, but it was the best relationship I ever had. Until an event happened that turned my life upside down and once again tore my world apart.

  Nothing Lasts for Long

  It was a Monday, and I was taking a break from running some errands to work out at the gym. As I was leaving my cell phone rang.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Adam,” it was Candy. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you asking me that?” I began to freeze up.

  “So you haven’t seen it yet?”

  “Seen what?” I was now agitated.

  “Adam, you are on the cover of the tabloids. I was at Sav-on Drugs picking up some stuff. There I was at the checkout line digging through my purse when I looked up and saw a headline that read ‘His Porno-iffic Ass
istant.’”

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” I said in a daze.

  “I only wish I was,” she replied. “There are two pictures juxtaposed on the front. One is a still of you nude from behind, turning and smiling at the camera. They used lettering to cover your ass. The other is of you and John at a function, and you are whispering in his ear.”

  “Oh no,” I said

  “I picked up a copy so you can take a look without having to buy it yourself. Do you need to come by and see it?” Candy asked sympathetically.

  I slouched against a nearby wall in a state of shock. I couldn’t even respond.

  “Adam? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah.” I breathed weakly. “I better come over. Shit,” I whimpered.

  “Are you okay to drive?” she asked.

  “I guess I’d better be. I’ll see you soon,” I said and hung up.

  A flushed, hot sensation overcame my body. It felt as though all eyes were on me, from the gym to where my car was parked. I tried to keep myself from shaking. The overwhelming urge to vomit came over me. If I thought my gay nerves had suffered before, they were taking a beating right now. I leaned up against the elevator wall that took me from the gym level to the garage below. A handful of trendy types were inside with me. My eyes were closed and I was breathing in and out heavily.

  “Doing all right?” A guy I knew from the gym asked me.

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine,” I lied, smiling faintly.

  “Rough workout, huh?” he smiled.

  “Yeah, very rough,” I breathed.

  After what seemed forever I reached my car. During the whole drive over to Candy’s I kept begging God that John wouldn’t be upset and that he wouldn’t hate me. After all, he knew what I was about before he met me. The question was would he want anything to do with me now that word had gone out his personal assistant was a gay porn star.

  On the way to Candy’s my phone rang a few times. I didn’t answer it. At that moment I just didn’t have the strength.