“I didn’t even know that was my fucking thing! When Ricky said hey let’s do something I was all, uh, salsa champion? And then Tomás threw him that track and said ‘do cabaret jazz,’ and Ricky said what is that, and Tomás said he’d show us.” Rory was snickering. “We conned him into choreographing fifty percent of that thing.”
“I don’t think he minded.”
Vicky confirmed. “Definitely not. He’s living his best life. He loved being back in Buenos Aires, seeing his mom, showing off Rosa and Fidelio.
There he is, you know, rocking it on stage, co-starring in a movie, and the sky’s the limit. Raquel’s throwing new scripts at him. And, like, tomorrow he’s back at work with Janis Vaughn on that album. So he’s got dance and music and acting the way he always wanted.”
“We both got what we wanted,” Rory said. “Back when we were roomies we were both about one bad day from chucking it in. Like, get a legit job with benefits and shit, and call it a day.”
“And then I made my extremely lame pass.”
“All those coffee shops in WeHo, and you walked into mine.” Rory grinned at Dana. The other two were giggling. “If it hadn’t been for Andy, though.” She shook her head.
“My Cyrano. He saved my bacon with you.” Dana watched Rory laugh.
“I was kind of expecting him to post something from Argentina. I mean, there were those selfies, but I thought he might put up another dance.”
“I think the six-way is going on the movie’s channel,” Vicky said. “And my things with Tomás. Andy and Victor were like, that’s enough, we’re all over the place.” Dana made an irritated sound. Vicky laughed.
“I suppose they’re preoccupied with their world porn tour,” Rory said.
“Their what?” said Vicky and Sharon together.
Toward the end of the tour, the nonstop travel was starting to wear them both out. That did not keep Andy and Victor from continuing to make home movies. “We can’t stop now,” Victor said reasonably. “That would look like we didn’t enjoy ourselves these last couple of weeks.”
“Which would not be true.” Andy was flat on his back in their Tokyo hotel, fully clothed, contemplating dinner. “I haven’t been sleeping very well.”
“I know. Any news from home?” He meant Miami.
“Pop is done with rehab. Mom is still bitching at him about smoking, as is his doctor. They’re walking every morning – Mom and Pop – and they’re going fishing a couple of times a week. She says at least that keeps him out of the social club where all he does is sit around and drink beer and smoke. Out on the boat he mostly sits around and drinks beer, but because she’s there he
doesn’t smoke.” Andy sighed.
Victor sat beside him and put a hand on his thigh. “He is almost eighty.”
His voice was quiet.
“He’s had a good life, I know.” Andy turned onto his side and curled around Victor, wrapping one arm around his waist. He spoke into his husband’s hip. “Mom says she thinks he’s trying to go fast. Not like his dad.”
Andy’s grandfather had died a long horrible death of emphysema and dementia. “She says she won’t be surprised if he has some kind of accident within the next couple of years.”
“Accident, huh.” Victor had his hand in Andy’s hair now. “I’m sorry, honey.” They didn’t say anything else for a while.
That night they finished up their duties at a screening – complete with the two dance numbers that had become a fixture on the tour, ‘Por Una Cabeza’ and ‘La Cumparsita’ – with a short after-party. Then they went on to a milonga. Victor could tell Andy’s heart wasn’t really in dancing that night, which was sufficiently unusual that he didn’t want to force it. “I’ve got an idea,” he said after a while. They were on the dance floor, Andy leading. He made an inquiring sound. Victor spoke softly against his face. “Let’s go to a karaoke bar. You can scream a little.” Andy half-laughed, then nodded.
Within thirty minutes they’d gotten a recommendation and their driver-slash-interpreter had brought them to the bar, where a late-night crowd of Japanese, mostly men, very refreshingly had no idea who they were. They both had to rely on their interpreter to find tracks they wanted to sing.
“You’re kidding,” Andy said. “They actually have ‘Paint it Black’? I am so totally doing that.” Most of the people singing really shouldn’t have been. A few of them were good enough to sing professionally, and possibly did.
Victor went up to sing ‘Sway’ and half a dozen people tried to buy him drinks. Ten minutes later Andy got his chance. Victor stood close to the performance dais – not big enough to be called a stage, and definitely not big enough to dance on – and watched the room while he took a phone video of Andy. Yeah, you did need to scream, he thought. Not that his husband was really screaming. It was closer to a growl. They might need to stay a while.
Two hours and three more songs later, Andy was ready to go. He looked pale and exhausted. Victor thought they ought to try and go straight to sleep.
“We can always make our Tokyo episode in the morning.” Except they weren’t staying two nights, so they had to travel. They were going on to
Kyoto, and then to Seoul, with no extra days in between.
“Eh,” Andy said. “We can sleep on the train.” His normally-supple baritone was hoarse.
“Then let’s try something completely different.” Andy’s eyebrows went up. Victor didn’t say anything else till they were at the hotel, washed up, and ready for bed. He set up the camera. Andy sat naked on the end of the bed and watched. When Victor turned around he saw the still-inquiring expression and said, “Let’s show the other part. The even more important part.” All of their episodes so far had been about the fun and fury and joy of sex. This time he meant the comfort. Andy got it. He nodded, and scooted back on the bed.
There was a lot of kissing. They both loved kissing. It was always part of foreplay, in these episodes. Tonight it was the main event. After a while, Victor sat up against the headboard and pulled Andy close to his chest, back to front. One arm around his ribs and the other hand working to give Andy relief. Still kissing, murmuring words of love. It didn’t take long. Then Andy slid down to get his mouth on Victor. That didn’t take long either. He stayed there, arms wrapped around Victor’s hips, for a few silent minutes. Victor kept a hand on his back and didn’t say anything about the overly-controlled breath, or the tears. He knew Andy hated to cry more than almost anyone, except maybe Vicky. He waited until Andy sighed, kissed his thigh, and sat up again with his back to the camera. Then he kissed his husband one more time and got off the bed to shut it down.
They did sleep on the train. The next night’s event was smaller, less tiring. They didn’t go out dancing, or for karaoke. Instead they found a quiet sushi bar. Andy still didn’t look rested, but at least he looked calm. “You’re a genius,” he told Victor on their way back to the night’s hotel. “Last night was great.”
“You didn’t get much sleep.”
“Neither did you. We don’t have to leave that early tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Victor noticed the slightly suggestive tone. Getting back to normal, he diagnosed, and hid a smile. “What have you got in mind?” Andy leaned over and whispered in his ear. Victor bit back a laugh. What Andy had in mind was pretty much the polar opposite of the night before. It was a short episode. They got plenty of sleep.
On their way to the airport the next day, Andy showed Victor an email
he’d sent. “I swear, I went to sleep right after this. Just needed to get it out of my head.”
Victor read the email, which was about the photo shoot in the works with their friend Janis’ tour manager and his husband. “So what were the lines?”
Andy pulled up a notes file and showed him. Victor read through the thirteen lines from ‘The Tempest’ and smiled. “That’s going to be sexy as fuck. Do you know how you’re going to stage them?”
“Want to help me brainstorm?”
“Love to.” That k
ept them busy all the way to Korea. By the time they landed Andy’s notes document was four times as long, and included ideas for shooting the Ariel and Prospero solo portraits as well as the thirteen staged lines.
They were still talking about it on the way to their Seoul hotel. “I’m starting to think this might be a big show. Maybe my biggest.” Andy looked excited. “There’s so much more material. I can’t stop thinking about other characters. If these come off like I expect, they would be the centerpiece. I wouldn’t do so many lines with other characters. I mean these guys, this thing is going to be its own thing. You saw them together at the premiere.”
“Yeah. That Niall is an eyeful. I thought so back in Miami.” They’d met up with Janis and her tour manager when they were on the East Coast for
‘Countdown 2.’
“You can have Niall if I can have Geoffrey. Jesus, what a cutie.” Victor snorted. “Anyway that’s another thing to work on here and there.”
“You could get Tanith to tweak some of the text for you if you’ve got other slash pairings in mind. I can’t remember most of the plays well enough.
They didn’t have to tweak these at all.”
“I can’t remember either. Have to do some reading. But yeah, Tanith could write something. I loved that thing she did with Marco and Cameron, the Juliet speech going oh hell no.” They were at the hotel. “Maybe I’ll pull something from that video to feature them. I am not going to let them both live. Romeo, let’s face it, he’s an idiot.” Victor laughed again. “I could get somebody else to play Romeo and Mercutio. You know they had a bromance.”
This went on all day. It was as if the project had gotten Andy over the hump of accepting what was going on with his father. Victor threw himself into it, because it was fun. He wanted to come up with characters they could
play themselves. “I’ll be reading those plays again while I wait for you on location. We could get that gal Charlie to take the pictures for us.” Almost everybody they knew was capable of taking a decent photograph with a phone, but they were in touch off and on with another person who’d been a commercial photographer and whose work they appreciated. “That series she did with the local musicians was really good. Do you have a target date on when to hang this? It’s going to take a while to develop,” Victor said while they were getting ready for the night’s event.
“Most of the year, I think. I’ll build the content first and then decide where and when to hang it. Because we have shit to do. I want to work up that Broadway thing with you. And I want to put together some dances with you. There’s ‘Milonga’ again with the Cabaret in September.”
“Gotta do it. What’s the idea?”
“Love is Blindness.”
“Not an apache, please.” Andy laughed. Victor loved the sight of that.
“Going to get Dmitri to choreograph for us?”
“Yeah, probably. And then there’s ‘Spy Games’ in November.” They made eye contact in the mirror, both immediately thinking of a dance they’d wanted to do years ago. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith. We could finally do the Assassins’ Tango.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Victor gave it a second. “Are you gonna wear fishnets for me?” Andy started to giggle. “Because you know your legs are better than Angelina Jolie’s.” A snort. Victor reached for him. His “God, I love you” was against Andy’s throat.
Their escort’s knock on the door separated them. “Jesus, catnip. Look at you.” Andy bit his lip, trying to stifle more giggles. He helped reorganize Victor’s clothes and hair. “Be right there,” he said, projecting it to the hallway. “How do I look?”
“Like you’ve been molested.” Victor set a fingertip on Andy’s neck.
Andy adjusted himself, took a few steps, checked himself out in the mirror, shrugged at the love bite. “If the whole world doesn’t already know we like to fuck, we’re doing it wrong.” Victor was still laughing when they opened the door.
Back to normal didn’t mean totally okay. Victor checked with Andy
before he posted one of his videos from the karaoke bar. “I won’t if you don’t want me to. Your folks will see it.”
“Yeah, I know.” Andy looked around the gate area. They were waiting to board yet another flight. “It’s not like they don’t know how I feel.” Victor made a sound of assent. He knew Andy was emailing with his mom almost every day. “You can post any or all of them as far as I’m concerned.”
“All might be a little much.” The one Victor wanted to post was the one that would be the most revealing. Their friends would be wondering what the hell was going on. He’d had to think through why he wanted to post it, and realized it was because he wanted their friends ready to jump in and help Andy when he needed it, even if he didn’t ask for it. Because he probably wouldn’t. He wanted them to know Andy was going to need help, was what it came down to. “Okay, then. If you’re sure.”
Andy turned his head to make eye contact. I know what you’re doing. He couldn’t verbalize his appreciation, so he said, “I’m sure. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Victor didn’t waste any time. The video was live before they boarded.
Back in Los Angeles, Dana did her usual before-bedtime media check.
Everybody was present, accounted-for, and avoiding trouble according to Facebook. She was about to log out when the new-stuff counter went red again. She almost ignored it; she had an early call, Rory was waiting up in the loft, and how important could it be, anyway. But it was on Victor’s page, and nothing new had gone up there for more than a week, so she clicked over to see it. “Holy shit,” she said.
“What?”
“Can you hear this?”
“Smells Like Teen Spirit.” There was a soft thump as Rory’s feet hit the floor. She came over to the top of the stairs. “Is that Andy?”
“It’s Andy Alfredo Le Pera Enter the Dragon Martin. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong, but something is.” Dana was still watching. Victor had to have taken this, because he was nowhere in sight. “He’s in a karaoke bar and he looks like hell.” Suit jacket hanging open, top three buttons of his shirt undone, hair wild, and screaming out the song like it was his job. It was a good system, too; the backing track was loud and rich, and there were effects
on the mic. It almost sounded mixed.
Rory was down the stairs and leaning over to see Dana’s phone. “Holy shit. Victor posted that?”
“Yeah, a few minutes ago. Looks like they were in Japan.” The song ended. Andy set the mic in its stand, holding onto it with both hands as if he might fall over without it, head down, breathing hard. They could hear applause. Dana glanced up. “Want to see the whole thing?”
Rory wasn’t sure she did want to, at least not at that precise moment. She shook her head. “There’s no caption from Victor? Why did he post that?”
“Not even a date and time, and I don’t know.” It’s an SOS, she thought.
He wouldn’t want to address that online. She logged out without commenting and switched to her text app: Victor WTF with that video. Are we scrambling a rescue team?
The reply was immediate, which was unexpected: About to get shut down goddamned planes Andy’s dad is not doing well and this year’s going to get rough. He’s better now but he needed to scream Thanks for the heads-up. I know you’re taking care of him Trying to. In the homestretch now. Hey we’re brainstorming a new photography thing. Shakespeare slash or gender-bent or otherwise twisted, linked to the text
Rory, reading over Dana’s shoulder, said, “Ooooh. Ask him if we get to pick our characters.” Dana sent the message.
A minute later the answer came: Absolutely. Oh FML here’s the phone police. Besos y Abrazos chicas
Back at ya especially hug the other one plz Will do OXO
“You know,” Rory said, “I’m really glad that guy came along.”
“Me too.” Dana put her phone to sleep and set it on its charger. “I’m going to get ready for bed. Can we cuddle a little?”
> “We can cuddle all night, especially if you let me pee first.” Rory leaned down to kiss Dana’s cheek, then scurried for the bathroom.
The last tour dates were in Australia. It was hot. “My internal thermostat is broken,” Andy complained. “We went from winter in Europe to summer in
South America and winter in Asia and here it’s fucking summer again and goddamn.” He was lying naked on the bed. They were finished, and he was glad. The tour had been so much fun, but they were tired. Victor had some time before starting that voice job when they got back to Los Angeles.
Andy’s tentative date for the ‘Tempest’ photo shoot was before that, but not immediately. “Can we take an extra day here?”
That sounded good to Victor. “To lie by the pool and rest? Sure. It’s not like there’s much prep for my thing.” He already had the script, with the director’s notes. “How about two? Two full days and nights, before we get back on a plane.”
“Two days. Oh God that sounds great.” They’d had multiple days between tour dates much of the way through, but at least one was usually lost to crossing multiple time zones. “Hand me my phone?” Victor did that. Andy sent a text to the promoter, and then one to their business manager: hiding out in Sydney for extra 2 days, can you rebook the flight home plz and advise, TYVM. “God I’m such a diva now.” He dropped the phone somewhere on the bed and closed his eyes.
“Delegating like a boss.” Victor had been sort-of planning to book them a massage. That was when they were going to travel the next day. Now they had this day, and two more days, and his husband was naked. Never enough, he thought, still amazed. He pulled off his tee shirt, shucked off his shorts, set a couple things ready (including the camera) and got on the bed. He straddled Andy’s hips and enjoyed the resulting smile. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said.
“What are you up to,” Andy said lazily.
“You’ll find out.” Victor poured a little baby oil into his palm, capped the bottle and tossed it aside. Warmed the oil between his hands, and set them on Andy’s ribs. He stroked up over chest and shoulders, down the slim muscular arms, to the hands Victor never tired of. Thumbs pressing into Andy’s palms and the inside of his wrists. Heels of his hands slowly pushing up the underside of Andy’s forearms, then hands wrapped around those arms above the elbows. Thumbs stroking up the inside of the biceps, watching the response. He bent and put his mouth on Andy’s chest. Listened to the change in his breathing, the little gasp when tongue swept over nipple. Still there when his hands returned to Andy’s, now massaging each finger. Arching his back to press the rigid cock against his. His own breath quickening. Teeth on
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