by Andy Zeffer
Candy was in the kitchen leaning against the counter when I came in. Looking down at the table I saw the image of myself in my naked glory smiling back at me on the cover of America Weekly.
“It’s worse on the inside,” Candy muttered. “Just totally mercenary.”
“There’s no pictures of John and I in the act, are there?” I asked frantically.
“No, thank God,” Candy said.
For the next few minutes I didn’t say anything, I just looked down, reading every word of the piece, which came complete with more racy images of me.
“America’s favorite dad, John Vastelli, who plays beloved high school teacher Phil Langella on the show Life’s Lessons, has hired a gay porn star better known as Adam Zee to be his assistant.” The piece began, “Zee, whose real name is Adam Zeller, has been accompanying Vastelli around town for the past few months, sparking rumors of a love affair between the two men. Though Vastelli dates a number of women, which in the past has included ’80s’ sex vixen Zinnia, the all-American comedian has long been the source of gay rumors . . .”
The article went on in detail about the few adult flicks I starred in, how I walked away from the industry to work for John, and how it was rumored I stayed at his home often. In essence, though sensationally written, the article was for the most part the truth. Whoever rigged this story either knew me, John, or the both of us very well. The gay press was going to have a field day with this. There were probably forums already set up on the Internet to discuss the topic.
“What do you think John’s going to say?” Candy asked.
Just then my phone rang.
“We’re about to find out,” I said, picking up the call. It was him.
“Adam, we need to talk,” John said.
“I know,” I responded.
“You’ve seen it?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” I breathed out heavily.
“My agents and the network are already talking about damage control,” John said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Grab a pen. I’m going to have you meet me at this address. Do not come to the house. There are probably photographers snooping around waiting to take some photographs,” he ordered.
I took down the address and agreed to meet John in an hour.
“This doesn’t sound good,” I told Candy.
“Look, don’t rush to assumptions, Adam,” Candy tried to comfort me. “He might just think you the two of you need to stay apart for a few weeks, until the whole thing blows over.”
“Oh that’s great for my job! He probably hates me know, wishes he never met me or became involved in my mess of a life,” I sobbed, throwing my hands in my face and sliding down the kitchen wall until I was slumped over into a pathetic ball.
“Adam, you’re going to have to be strong,” Candy cautioned.
“I’m sick of trying to be strong. I can’t even remember how I got to this place anymore. A year ago I was in New York temping. How did I get to this?” I wailed.
“That doesn’t matter. You’re here and you have to deal with it.” She paused a moment and then said, “I wonder who the hell is behind it.”
“Who knows,” I huffed, looking up with streaked eyes and a blotchy face. “Could be Brian, could be Ron, could be Zinnia. I’ll never know. All I know is in an hour I have to face John, and I’m so scared he’ll want nothing to do with me.”
Break It to Me Gently
My fears were legitimate. An hour later I met John at the home of one of his business associates in Beverly Hills. He was sitting on a white sofa inside, his shades still on. Seeing someone wearing shades indoors is never a good sign. They are the ultimate Hollywood defense mechanism.
“Hey,” I said. As I approached him for a kiss he put his hand up, making his position clear early on.
“Sit down,” he said gently.
“John, you don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?” I asked incredulously as I sunk into the overupholstered chair across from him.
“No, Adam, I don’t. As a matter of fact, if anything, the whole thing is my fault. I should have known better than to become so closely involved,” he stated.
“Oh, John, don’t say that,” I replied, completely crushed.
“Please, Adam, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. This isn’t easy for me at all. I felt so free with you, and was so into you I wanted to forget that I have to be careful. I’ve worked my ass off for so many years to build up my career, you have no idea. And the ironic part is that I can’t share it with who I choose to. But if that’s the sacrifice I have to make, than I have to live with that,” John said grimly.
“John, is it really the end of the world? I mean look at Ellen, she got her career back . . .” I began before John cut me off in a rage.
“Yeah, only years after her own fucking show got canceled. And Rosie came out and now she’s the world’s most pushy dyke as far as the media and public are concerned. Jesus, Adam! Look at my show, and my audience! This is Middle America! Do you think their really going to buy it after the find out in real life I’m shacking up with a guy? A guy who is a fucking porn star and a whore for Christ sakes!” he exploded.
I sat in the chair stunned as tears rolled down my cheeks. I had never seen John so angry, and never once believed he could be so enraged. He had always been a gentle bear with me.
“Oh shit,” John muttered. He got up from the sofa and began pacing back and forth, putting his hand up to his forehead in emotional exhaustion. “I’m sorry I said that to you, Adam. You know I care for you. It’s just that so many people depend on me, a whole cast and crew. If the show gets canceled they lose their jobs. There is just so much at stake here than just us, you understand?” he asked, finally pausing to look at me.
I just nodded my head, staring straight ahead through blurred eyes.
“Oh man, I can’t do this anymore,” John sighed. “Look, let’s just play it cool for a while. I’m going to have a car service take your things from my house to your apartment. You won’t have to worry about money for a while, I’ll take care of that. If you get into trouble call me. But otherwise, we have to keep our distance, all right?”
Again, I just nodded my head, rose up, and made my way to the door. If he couldn’t take it anymore, he had no idea what I was going through.
“Babe, I’m sorry. Please understand, please understand,” I heard John’s voice choke up from behind.
“No problem,” I answered in a bitter voice as I walked like a zombie to the front door of the strange house. “It’s the kind of life I’m used to, starting over.”
With that I slammed the door behind me, stumbled to my car and slammed the door. After collapsing for a moment over the wheel I got myself together and drove to Candy’s.
In a Deep Funk
“Oh come on, Adam! You haven’t left the house for days!” Candy lamented. She then marched over to the blinds and jerked them up, letting a flood of early California sun in the room which painfully blinded me.
“Ohhh,” I moaned groggily, suffering the pain of photosensitivity. “Put them back down.”
“No!” Candy refused. “It’s still my fucking home, and I’m ordering your ass up whether you like it or not. Besides, I’m making waffles. So drag your self-pitying ass into the kitchen now!”
I threw off the comforter and marched down the hall toward the kitchen in my Calvins. The only people I had spoken to in the past few days had been my parents. A friend of theirs brought the tabloid article to their attention. Otherwise they never would have seen it. My father handled it better than my mother.
“You know, Adam, you have to take a good look at the decisions you make and the choices you make,” my mother said coldly.
I kept silent, not mentioning the fact I that when I graduated college with zero dollars in my bank account I had wanted to come back home and get on my feet. It was so easy to point the finger at somebody when you’re not in their situation. Yet at the
same time she was right. I had made some poor choices and was paying for them.
“Did you ever stop to think about how this might hurt you, not to mention your father and I?” she asked coldly.
“No. I was too busy thinking about paying the rent and putting food on the table,” I said numbly.
My mother always spoke for my father. Yet when he got on the phone all he did was ask how I was doing and told me that he loved me.
Despite having my life plastered on the front of a national publication, they didn’t ask me if I needed to come home. Not even for a visit. If this experience didn’t teach me that I was never going to have the close-knit family life I wanted so desperately, nothing would.
About a dozen reporters and television producers left messages. I didn’t return any calls. Lord only knew how they got my number. Ron had probably sold it to them.
“You should at least find out if they will offer you any money to sell your side of the story. Look at John. He dropped you like a hot potato. His spine must be made out of sawdust,” Candy told me.
“Dropped me with a few thousand dollars,” I said. True to his word, John had everything brought to Candy’s, all my clothes, my Cartier watch, and a check for three grand which I had yet to deposit.
“It’s too soon for me to make a decision if I want to talk to the press or not,” I continued. “Besides, that might just make me look worse. Maybe when this blows over we can salvage our relationship.”
“Where, in hotel rooms by sneaking up the back stairs?” Candy huffed. “Is that really the kind of relationship you want? Face it, Adam, he is never going to jeopardize his TV career. You deserve better than that. You never know. Maybe the publicity could lead to something, an acting role or a reality TV spot. You might as well try to turn lemons to lemonade. I say ride the publicity while you can, before his PR people smooth the whole thing over and it becomes yesterday’s news.”
“Well. If worse comes to worse I can always revive my porn career,” I said. “Ron and a bunch of other top studios like Falcon have already called me offering money to sign me as an exclusive. I can just see the names of the films they are planning. Anal Assistant, Hollywood Houseboy, Stud to the Stars, and worse.”
“Let’s not got there yet. That’s only the last resort,” Candy quipped. “I’m just glad I dragged you out of that moldy bed. How many waffles do you want?”
We made waffles and popped in a Mae West film afterward. The choice for the night was Klondike Annie, where as a nightclub singer Mae stabs a man in self-defense and goes on the run disguised as a Christian missionary in Alaska. Never mind none of the other characters seem to be suspicious of a missionary with full makeup, bleached hair, and a swagger. It was Sister Act before Sister Act ever happened.
“You know, Mae West didn’t make her first film until age forty, so she gives me hope,” Candy joked.
For the next few hours Mae and Candy kept me entertained without a thought of anything.
Performing for a Party
After days indoors and not even a visit to the gym Candy convinced me to tag along with her to a party for her hairdresser Ricky. I was still despondent. John had not called me once, not even to find out how I was doing. I felt hurt and dispensable. Candy thought that getting me out would take my mind off him.
The night of the party Candy and I headed to the area of Ricky’s apartment. We found the address, which turned out to be a typical two-story Spanish style building. Thinking the right apartment was on the ground floor, Candy and I rang the bell.
A wooden peep hole in the door was pulled back to reveal a metal mesh screen. Behind it we could see a very sexy dark-haired guy wearing a white wife-beater tank top that showed off an exceptionally muscular physique. Candy and I glanced at each other. At this point I knew we had knocked on the wrong door but was glad for the mistake.
“Hi,” I said blankly. “Is this Ricky’s place?”
“Actually he lives upstairs,” the guy answered. The minute he opened his mouth I knew he swung my way, which in turn excited me. We apologized for disturbing him.
“No problem. I’m actually heading up to his party in a while myself,” he smiled. Now I was glad Candy dragged me along. I knew there would be something there to keep me entertained and help me forget about John, even just for the moment.
“He had a great build,” Candy said encouragingly as we went up the steps. “Your type, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” I said without hesitation.
Ricky answered the door upstairs and we went inside his place. We were among the first arrivals, which explained not hearing the sound of festivity and the roof being raised. Hanging out in the kitchen we poured ourselves some vodka and cranberry as the apartment steadily became more packed. Of course I waited for the sexy downstairs neighbor in eager anticipation. Candy teased me about it.
“Look at you! You’re on the prowl now!”
“Hey, Ricky. Who’s that guy who lives downstairs from you?” Candy asked.
“Oh, you’ve met Tray? Isn’t he delicious?” Ricky gushed. “By the way, Adam, I saw you in that tabloid, and . . .”
“Ricky!” Candy scolded.
“Candy made me promise not to say anything,” Ricky continued. “But I thought you looked fabulous, and whether it is true or not the whole thing is just fabulous.”
“Thanks, Ricky,” I smiled. “I appreciate it.”
“Of couse darling! Ricky always tells the truth!” he said with glee, and with that scurried to the other room to greet new arrivals.
About an hour later Tray made his entrance, bringing along an overweight female friend. When he saw us in the kitchen he said hello. “Glad to see you guys found the place.”
His friend had recently relocated to LA and taken a job as an employment recruiter. I would have offered my resumé to her until she went on to explain her company specialized in placing CEOs and high-level executives. Thankfully I had spared myself the embarrassment. Besides, I was here to forget about my troubles. Nobody needed to hear about the disastrous state of my affairs regarding my professional life, or lack thereof.
Though talkative, Tray had a soft-spoken manner and puppy dog eyes that were endearing, and made him seem more alluring than before. We continued to speak in the kitchen until the lighting of the cake and blowing out of the candles interrupted us.
“Everybody quiet!” Ricky’s butch lesbian roommate growled.
Ricky then stood up on a chair and made a rather serious and dramatic, not to mention self-serving speech about how difficult his year had been and proceeded to thank everyone for standing by him and supporting him. One would have thought he was auditioning for Shakespeare in the Park.
“As you all know, this has been a very hard year for me,” Ricky began.
Come visit my world and we’ll compare sob stories, I thought.
Thank God his guests eventually got creeped out and uncomfortable enough to run up and hug him, brushing off the melodrama with some joking around. Someone had the good sense to put the music back on.
“That was a rather somber display,” I commented afterward.
“No kidding. I was like man, Ricky! You’re bringing us down!” Tray laughed.
It was clear there were sparks flying between Tray and myself. Candy and his friend were standing aside now and speaking more with each other, while the two of us gazed into each other’s eyes and chatted up a storm. Tray was an aspiring actor. He told me he saw himself playing cop or detective roles on television. I thought he might be convincing. While soft-spoken, he had a gritty quality as well.
We had moved into the other room and were sitting on the couch. Ricky had popped in a new collection of Madonna videos in the VCR to show to his friends as everyone drank and made merry. Ricky loved Madonna.
I yearned to be with Tray at that moment. I desperately desired another man’s touch, the abandon of having unattached sex at that moment. It was the perfect cure for my doldrums and woes. The last guy I’d been with
was John, and now I needed somebody to wipe him from my memory, a fuck to help me forget about him and clear the slate.
My mind drifted back to a plan I had been hatching for the past half hour. I kept commenting on how much I loved Ricky’s apartment, and how cute the building was. Then I directed the conversation to Tray’s apartment, asking if the layout was the same, and who his roommate was. Of course, this was all part of my ulterior motive, which was to have Tray invite me into his place so I could get some play.
“Actually, even though my apartment is directly below Ricky’s the floor plan is different, especially the kitchen area. It’s kind of weird,” Tray explained to me.
Now it was time to make my move.
“Really? I’m trying to visualize it. I’d love to see it,” I said casually, anxiously awaiting what kind of reaction that I’d get.
Tray saw right through me. He gave me a mischievous smile and looked as if he was contemplating what he should do next. “Well, my roommate is spending the night at his girlfriend’s,” he said.
He had mentioned earlier his roommate was straight, and that they had met in an acting class.
“I guess we can go down there for a few minutes and I can show you around,” he went on while smiling sexily and raising his eyebrows suggestively.
Other guests were aware of the sparks flying between us as well, and I found out later that we were already the subject matter of much of the talk at the party. Ricky had even come up to me a few minutes earlier, when Tray stepped in the bathroom, to get the scoop. Ricky mentioned another one of his friends had his eye on me. I didn’t even care to ask who it was. Right now it was all about Tray.
I turned to Candy, who was chatting with some other people, and told her I was going downstairs for a bit. Candy said okay with a knowing smile. Like everyone else, she had been keeping a close eye on the developing situation between muscle-man Tray and me.