The End of Billy Knight

by Ty Jacob

  25. The Clinic

  DALE DIDN’T LIKE the look of the clinic. It was dingy, tattered, and felt faintly desperate, although he didn’t say so to Mike. The nurse was cold. She wouldn’t let him go in with Mike to receive the results, and it didn’t seem fair. Mike shouldn’t be alone. Dale felt himself becoming loud and pushy. “Is it because we’re faggots? If he were my little wife, would you let me go in then?”

  “No,” the nurse replied calmly. “I’m afraid not. No couples, straight or gay. I’m sorry.”

  So Dale sat in the lobby, waiting, watching the wooden door Mike had disappeared through. He was physically uncomfortable. His jeans were pinching his waist. Inside the heavy denim his thighs were sweating. Dresses were so much easier. On the other hand, wigs itched and high heels hurt. There was no winning.

  The door opened and a young blond boy came out. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d clearly been crying. Dale tried to look away, but failed. Their eyes met for a moment, and then the boy walked quickly outside. The noise of the passing cars became briefly louder, then the boy was gone, and the lobby was still again.

  Dale was very much aware of the possible paths that were in front of him. He’d been through this before. He began saying the list in his head. It was something he did from time to time, a kind of prayer, names like repeated rosary beads. You should never forget the names of the dead. Darryl, Rick, Ellen, Rex… He included the ones he’d been close to as well as the ones he didn’t know very well, and he remembered various, embittered voices which said only in passing that so and so was dead. It was scary, the way people disappeared.

  He should be dead himself. Sometimes he wondered if he’d survived this long simply because – even back in the 70s, way before safe sex – he’d never much cared for the taste of cum, and he didn’t like to be fucked. It was amazing, that your life could come down to that.

  His mind went back to Rick now, the one he’d helped the most, a good friend he’d done drag with years before. Dale had done everything he could. He scrubbed Rick’s toilet, did his grocery shopping, cleaned out that nasty parrot’s cage when Rick was afraid the bacteria in the bird shit would finish him off. Then, when nobody wanted the bird after Rick died, it was Dale who sold it back to the pet shop, gave the money to an AIDS charity. He hated that damn bird.

  He figured now, still watching the door, that if Mike walked out with a smile on his face, they would keep going forward as they had been. He would continue finding Mike jobs in films, and Mike would continue sleeping on his couch, and maybe sometimes, upset and sad like last night, Mike would sleep with him in his bed. Dale hoped so.

  But so much could go wrong. If Mike were negative, Dale worried he’d eventually be left behind. It could happen in any combination of ways, and he couldn’t help himself now: he began going through each frightening scenario as he waited.

  He hadn’t told Mike everything. While it was true that Steve was happy with Sasha’s work on the Muscle Party project, it was obvious that Steve was even happier with Billy’s. There was no doubt in Dale’s mind. Steve still wanted Billy for Cougar movies more than he wanted Sasha. In fact, Billy could end up overshadowing Sasha entirely. It was possible that he might actually become the more successful of the two, that he would step over her and continue on until she became just a hazy memory for him – just one of many who’d helped him on his path to becoming a huge star, just some old drag queen. Fat, failed and forgotten.

  Of course there was that other scenario for losing Mike, the one that would hurt more. He could end up leaving for love. He could end up leaving for someone like that Kerry.

  Dale looked down at the worn carpet and rubbed the short hair on top of his balding head. Kerry was stupid and shallow. That much was obvious just from looking at him today. It didn’t matter what Mike said. Kerry had none of Mike’s vulnerability, or warmth, or charm. In no way was he worthy of Mike’s affections. Dale paused, staring at the floor. For a moment he imagined having to continually pull Mike away from men on the streets.

  He looked up at the door again. It was a pale wood. The light switch on the white wall to the left was slightly grey from hands touching it so many times.

  Gradually Dale came to a conclusion, one that was twofold. First, even if Mike walked out with a smile on his face, even if he was fine and healthy and good and negative and wanted to make more movies, Sasha was going to have to stop relying on him. She was going to have to prove her worth to Steve without Billy, on her own, to show that she could do it even without such an intensely burning performer as him. Secondly, unless Dale wanted to lose Mike to love, something would have to be done about that Kerry.

  But there was, of course, yet another possibility altogether, and Dale turned to it now. If Mike’s eyes were bloodshot, if he looked like that poor blond boy, as though he’d been crying, if he was positive, then everything would change. Mike would start counting T-cells, would in time begin struggling to fight off one thing and then another. He would need help. He would need Dale. And certain threats would disappear. If I’m positive, Kerry won’t want me. If I’m positive, I won’t be able to be in Steve’s movies.

  A new thought came to him then, strangely, like some exotic flower blooming in time lapse photography – as though something which normally took hours, days, weeks was now visible in one smooth and flowing, beautiful instant. He realized that if Mike became sick, it wouldn’t be all bad. There would be long talks at Mike’s bedside. There would be more nights with Mike sharing his bed – his small, feverish body next to him as he slept, his slow and steady breathing. There would be all the little things he could do for Mike, things that Mike would want and appreciate. He could get Mike’s prescriptions filled, drive him to the doctor, bring him coffee, and buy him apples by the bushel. He would have Mike all to himself.

  As soon as he thought it, Dale felt horrible. How could he want such a thing? Only when he followed the idea, this possible future that continued to blossom in front of him now, when he continued to stare it down and watch it happen, did he realize that he did not want it at all. It was a death sentence. After being sick, after needing him more, Mike would surely fade and die. All over Los Angeles, men were dropping like flies. What was he thinking? Dale didn’t want to lose this one too – especially not that way, especially not that slow, wasting, skeletal way. Mike was the most precious one by far. Upon seeing this path’s inevitable conclusion, Mike’s death, Dale finally stopped the thought. He turned away from it, shocked and sad. He felt guilty and ashamed.

  And then there was Mike, standing at the door. He looked at Dale blankly, and Dale didn’t know what to do.

  But then, suddenly, like a great beaming sun, Mike smiled.

  Dale rushed over to him and hugged him, and Mike whispered in his ear, “I’m okay. I’m negative.” Dale, in spite of himself, in spite of wanting Mike to be okay, felt ashamed and guilty all over again because there was, suddenly, rising up inside him – he felt it in his chest – a strong and undeniable pang of disappointment.

  26. A Distinguished Friend

  IT WAS ONLY with the results behind him that Mike began to realize how the entire thing had shaken his confidence so deeply. He’d always felt that his most reliable source of power was his body – the way he looked, whatever it was that people saw in him – but for the past three months his belief in that power had been shaken. He’d felt vulnerable, full of fear that his body was no longer fully his, that something foreign had lodged inside it and would soon start taking control.

  So as he walked out of the clinic with Dale that Friday afternoon, slipping on his new sunglasses and looking down the street, it felt like he finally had command of his body back, and with it all of his power again.

  “I want to meet Steve,” he said, smiling and looking at Dale.

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? I’m his next big superstar. I’m going to be the first big bottom in gay porn. Will you call him when we get home? Let’s go to Cougar today.”
He grabbed Dale’s arm and pulled him closer.

  “No. I called in sick this morning.” Dale pretended to cough. “I’m supposed to be in bed.”

  “What about tomorrow? Can I go to Cougar with you in the morning?”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’m not going to work. Besides, it’s your birthday and I just decided I’m taking you out for brunch.”

  Mike smiled. “Okay. We’ll go to Cougar together on Monday.”

  “You can’t go in with me. Steve might not be there. But I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll see.”

  “Dale, thank you for coming with me today.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “I’m so fucking relieved I’m negative,” Mike said.

  Dale nodded. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

  The next day Dale took Mike out for brunch as promised, then they went and saw a movie together. That evening Mike went to work early, hoping to see Kerry before it got busy. When he finally saw Kerry come in, Mike went up to him and hugged him. There were two customers already there, two old lechers sitting at the bar. They stared. Mike didn’t care. He kissed Kerry full on the lips. He looked over and saw the lechers watching. He liked it.

  Kerry laughed and pulled away slightly, but kept his hands at Mike’s waist. “Well, you seem happy. I guess a good day at the beauty parlor works wonders.”

  “Nah. I’m just glad to see you. When I didn’t hear from you, I figured you were blowing me off.”

  “Vegas was a good chance to make some money.”

  “You could have called me. That would’ve been nice.”

  Kerry looked away. When he turned back he said, “When are you going to come back to my place?”

  Mike felt the growing warmth of Kerry’s hands, still lingering on his waist. “As soon as I get an invitation. It’s my birthday today.”

  “Really? Well, how about tonight, after work? We can celebrate.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good. Me too.”

  “I made another movie.”

  Kerry’s eyebrows rose. “Did you?”

  “Well, it’s just one scene. But it’s my first studio shoot. I’m really excited about it. Dale told me the producer really liked what we did.”

  “You did it with Dale?”

  “Yeah. He directed.”

  “That guy’s an asshole.”

  “What?” Mike looked at Kerry closely.

  “On the street yesterday. ‘Mine. It’s mine.’ What the hell was that about?”

  “That’s just Dale. He’s a little bit jealous. He protects me. He’s helped me out a lot.”

  “He’s a porn freak who likes a pretty boy and wants to use you.”

  “Stop it, Kerry.” Mike pulled away. “He’s given me a place to live and helped me find work. He’s the closest thing I have to family here.”

  “Family? How long have you known him?”

  “Long enough.” Mike paused. It had really only been three months. “You know, Kerry, I couldn’t wait to see you tonight. I wanted to tell you what I’d done. I missed you even. But you’re ruining it.”

  “I already told you what I thought of porn.”

  “Yeah. Well, it’s what I do. Take it or leave it.” Mike turned and walked toward the bar. The two lechers smiled and quickly offered to buy him a drink. He said yes. One of them put his hand on his waist, where Kerry’s had been.

  Behind him he heard Pascal talking loudly. “Well, if it isn’t King Kerry who thinks he can come and go whenever he pleases...” A new song started and it drowned out their conversation, but it was clear that Kerry was making excuses to Pascal. The lechers continued smiling. They asked Mike if Kerry was his boyfriend. He said no. Then suddenly Sasha’s voice was booming.

  “Hello doll! How are you?”

  When he turned around he was surprised to see Sasha actually giving Kerry air kisses, pretending like she’d found an old friend. She wore a bright orange, knee-length dress with long sleeves and blue feathers that circled each wrist. Her blond wig was topped with a blue headband, and she wore the blue platform shoes that she had on during the Muscle Party shoot. Behind her was a grey-haired guy in khaki pants and a navy blue blazer. He had a paunch and a fat, gold watch. He looked familiar, and Mike remembered he’d seem him before, at the premiere of Banging Billy.

  Mike nodded toward the lechers on either side of him and excused himself, smiling and squeezing one of their knees just to keep them interested. He might need them later. It was always important to have options.

  As he approached Sasha, she was reaching out and patting Kerry’s shoulder and saying, “Aren’t you the sexy one tonight?”

  The moment she saw Mike she yelled “Baby!” and gave him a big hug. “I’ve come on a mission of peace, in honor of your birthday. I thought I could share a drink with you and Kerry here, to get to know him a bit better.” She looked at Kerry, who stood alongside her watching everything carefully, and she squished up her nose at him, trying to look cute. “Oh, but I have such bad manners,” she said, waving her arms in the air, the feathers on her wrists fluttering wildly. She turned to the man with the gold watch. “I brought my distinguished friend Burt here, just to keep me company. You know, I thought you two boys might be working hard, and I didn’t want to sit at a table all by myself. Burt, you remember my darling Billy.”

  “Yes.” Burt looked Mike up and down. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks,” Mike said. “I remember you. You told me I look good in a cowboy hat.”

  “Did I?” Burt said, but he was already staring at Kerry.

  “And this is Billy’s new friend, Kerry,” Sasha said. She leaned in toward Burt as though about to whisper a secret, but she spoke loudly. “I’m hoping he won’t be a bad influence on my dear boy.” She turned and offered Kerry a warm, friendly smile.

  Although Burt hadn’t shaken hands with Mike, he did now with Kerry. Mike noticed the gold wedding ring on Burt’s left hand. Sasha marched over to a table with a good view of the stage and told everyone where to sit. She placed Kerry next to Burt. Mike looked across the table to catch Kerry’s eye, trying to figure out what Kerry was thinking, to see if he was going to be nice to Sasha. Kerry was looking at her suspiciously.

  Pascal’s house rules were clear. Dancers couldn’t sit and talk to friends unless the friends were buying them drinks, and even then they could only talk for a limited time. The dancers were here for the customers, not for their friends. But the lines weren’t always clear. Friends sometimes became customers. Customers sometimes became friends. Sasha knew the rules, and she immediately offered to buy drinks for everyone.

  Mike was happy to see her at Exposé again. It was nice knowing she’d be in the audience as he danced later on. She always clapped and cheered loudly for him.

  When the waiter named Tony came over, Kerry announced to the table, “This is Tony. He’s straight.”

  Tony ignored him and smiled, “What would you like to drink?”

  “Oooo,” Sasha squealed. “Now tell me, doll. What would a nice straight boy like you be doing in a nasty gay place like this?”

  “Waiting tables, ma’am.” He said ‘ma’am’ without a trace of irony, as though he really believed he was talking to a woman. “What would you like?”

  She laughed. “That depends. Are you on the menu?”

  “Afraid not.” Tony smiled again, directly at Sasha. It was unquestionably flirtatious.

  “Oh, doll. I bet you get some good tips,” Sasha said.

  Kerry nodded. “That’s what keeps him coming back.” He reached out and slapped Tony’s ass.

  Tony hit his hand away. “Not for sale. What can I get you to drink?”

  “Not for sale,” Kerry repeated. “You’re the worst kind of tease. Frustrating the poor guys that come into this place. At least Mike and I make an honest living. At least we put out.”

  “Drinks?” Tony repeated. “Ladies first.” He turned to Sasha.

  She ordered a
cranberry and vodka and said she wanted to file a complaint with the management that the waiters weren’t on the menu. Burt asked for a gin and tonic. Mike and Kerry each ordered a beer. Sasha proposed a toast. “To the birthday boy, Billy Knight!”

  Afterward she turned to Kerry. “Now, Kelvin – I mean, I’m sorry, Kerry. Really, you’ll just have to forgive my geriatric memory. Next stop, Alzheimers! Anyway, how long have you worked at Exposé, Kerry dear? I’ve seen you here before, but we’ve never had the chance to become acquainted.”

  “A year.”

  “I hope you’re looking out for my Billy, since he’s really still a newbie and all.”

  “You mean Mike? He’s smart. He can take care of himself.”

  “I understand you took him to the gym the other day.”

  Sitting alongside Sasha, Mike was watching closely, ready to intervene if things turned nasty.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Kerry said.

  “Billy, you should join that gym. There’s only so much you can do at home. Maybe Kerry can become your workout buddy. Show you what exercises to do.” She looked at Kerry. “It’s all very complicated, I imagine. All those big machines.”

  “I don’t really use the machines. Free weights are better,” Kerry said.

  “Really?” Sasha said. “And why is that?”

  “They activate more muscles, because you have to stabilize the weight. Plus, they involve balance and coordination. You get a better workout.”

  “Well, you’re smarter than you look. I mean – ” She cut herself off. “It’s not that you look stupid, Kyle, er, Kerry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just you’re just so handsome that, honestly, one never knows.”