by Ty Jacob
She closed the door behind him and headed into the kitchen, where she filled a pale green vase with water and began carefully arranging the luminous roses. She took her time. Rafael would have to wait in the car a bit longer. These flowers had to be savored, even if Billy’s smile had been all wrong, even if the kiss had just fallen on his cheek.
Billy walked into the kitchen and set a piece of paper down on the counter. “Here’s the other winners. Rafael wrote them down for you.”
“Oh, can he write?” She picked up the paper and scanned it quickly. “Antonio Savage won Best Solo?!” she said.
“Not bad for a straight boy, huh?”
“I heard he’s going to do his first real gay sex scene soon,” she said, setting down the paper and turning back to her flowers. She would study the winners later, commit them all to memory. Right now she had these pale yellow lights in front of her. She tilted her head to the left, turned the vase to the right slightly, then pulled one rose up just a little bit higher. “But it’s a non-reciprocal scene,” she said. “He’s just going to get sucked off. Hope his girlfriend doesn’t mind.” She looked up at Billy and smiled.
“He thanked her tonight,” Billy said. “In his acceptance speech.”
“What did you say in your speech for me?”
“I read your sentence.”
“Good.”
“Then I just said how great you were. I reminded everyone that there wouldn’t be a Silver Dick award if it weren’t for you.”
“You’re a dear.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe I was up for Best Director against the likes of that Bland Handsome. Man Quest was the worst piece of porno crap I’ve seen in a long time. What were the judges thinking?”
“You won. That’s all that matters.”
“You’re right. That’s all that matters.” She picked up the vase of flowers and walked through the doorway to the dining room, where she set it down on the table. It was a large, wooden table that sat six, and the roses looked spectacular holding center stage in the room. She loved this old Hollywood apartment, with its high ceilings and art deco flair. Two years ago Billy had found it listed in the paper himself, and they’d moved in right away, splitting the rent fifty-fifty. Billy had insisted.
Behind her now she heard him moving down the hallway to his bedroom, and she reached out toward the dining room wall and flicked off the lights. For a moment she stood in the semi-darkness. The roses caught the light that came in from the front room to her left and from the doorway to the kitchen behind her. The dining room walls were painted a soft cream. They captured shadows well. Billy had rejected the audacious colors of her Orlando Avenue place. Only her bedroom had bold color here – the same deep fuchsia of her old Orlando Avenue boudoir.
From where she stood she could see into the front room, the coffee table strewn with magazines, the faux leather sofa Billy used to sleep on, now covered with throw pillows, the burgundy upholstered armchair Billy brought home from a second hand shop shortly after they moved here. She walked out into the room and looked around, at Billy’s two previous Silver Dicks on the bookshelf, at the beautiful painting they had bought together while on Fire Island last year – two hunky men in shorts and T-shirts, walking on a beach holding hands. The TV looked out from the corner next to stacks and stacks of videos – gay porn mostly but also the old movies Sasha loved, Audrey Hepburn and Katherine Hepburn in particular. She felt a sense of security in knowing this apartment was theirs, that in a drawer somewhere there was a lease with their names signed side-by-side, tying them together.
She headed down the hallway toward her bedroom. Billy was making noise in his own bedroom and she poked her head in as she passed. His room was always much neater than hers, although he rarely made his bed. The posters on the walls alternated between hunky shirtless men and 1970s muscle cars. He never brought clients home, just friends and fuck buddies – Rafael and the occasional extra one here and there, guys whose names she never bothered to learn.
Billy was standing at his open closet now, looking through his clothes. He had amassed a large wardrobe in the past four years, helped by her careful advice – fine Italian suits for some occasions, leather chaps for others. A man in his profession always had to have the right outfit.
“Should I change out of my tux?” he asked.
“Oh God no, Billy. You look a dream.”
“Thanks.” He shut the closet door.
She went back into her bedroom, grabbed her handbag off her bed, and checked her eyelashes once more in the vanity mirror. They were fine. She slipped on her shoes – black patent leather with dramatic high heels – and she called out, “Let’s go, baby.”
Down at the car, she opened the back door and said, “Ricardo, you don’t mind if Billy and I sit in back together, do you? We’re both just so happy tonight.”
Rafael looked over his shoulder and said, “Uh, sure. I guess not.” Sasha grabbed Billy’s hand and pulled him in behind her.
Driving along, Rafael rambled on from the front seat about how great the opening act was at the Silver Dicks, how the drag queen did such a good job on the Ethel Merman number. He talked as though Sasha had never heard of Amanda Manning. Sasha responded as politely as she could. Of course she knew every drag queen in town, and she didn’t really care to hear how fabulous Amanda was. It should have been Sasha Zahore opening the Silver Dicks. It should be a tradition. She should be asked to do it every year.
When they finally approached the bar where the after party was, Rafael started looking for a place to park, and Sasha saw that a small group of fans had gathered in front. It happened every year. Gay boys heard where the Silver Dicks after party was held, and they stood outside to catch a glance of a porn star or two.
Sasha leaned forward and touched Rafael’s shoulder in the front seat. “Be a doll and drop us off, won’t you? I’ve got these horrible high heels on and it’ll ruin my feet for the night if I have to walk. We’ll have a drink ready for you.” When Rafael hesitated, she added, “Oh Rafael, do be a dear and help an old girl out. You’re such a gentleman. Pleeease?”
He acquiesced.
“Pull up so my side is on the sidewalk,” Sasha said.
As Rafael crossed traffic and pulled up in front of the bar, some of the fans pointed. From the back seat Sasha leaned forward and touched Rafael’s shoulder. “Oh, doll, I’ve just won Best Director, and I have to make an entrance. Be a sweetie and open my door for me, won’t you?”
Billy was already climbing out on the far side as Rafael got out and opened Sasha’s door. She’d practiced getting out of a car gracefully in a dress; it wasn’t an easy thing to do. You had to keep your legs together and pivot around smoothly, so that your feet touched the ground almost simultaneously. Then you had to lean forward and rise up in one single motion. But after Rafael opened the door, he didn’t know enough to put his hand out to help her, and she had to hold her hand up in the air for a moment before he understood to take it. Then she rose up onto the sidewalk perfectly, her back slightly arched, as Billy came to her left side. She hooked her left hand in the crook of Billy’s arm and dismissed Rafael with a nod.
Someone yelled, “It’s Sasha Zahore!” and somebody else said, “Billy Knight!” It was fabulous to be recognized.
They both signed several autographs as Rafael drove away, then the bouncer opened the door and they moved inside. Having Billy beside her made her feel like a queen, a real queen, like royalty.
Steve Logan immediately walked over.
“Sasha, I thought you were sick?” he said.
“Let’s just say I had a miraculous recovery.”
He congratulated her and Billy on their awards and invited them to join him at the booth he’d secured near the dance floor. She accepted Steve’s invitation before she realized he was sitting with Harry Hole and Blane Handsome. As she sat down she gritted her teeth at the tediousness of the company.
Steve was scolding Billy for announcing the Best of Billy mov
ie before he was ready, when Blane stuck out his hand and said, “Sasha, Sasha, good to see you. How is it you and I both work in the industry and we never get a chance to catch up?”
“Honestly, Blane, I have no idea.”
“Congratulations about tonight. I’ve won my fair share of awards. It’s about time to give somebody else a chance.”
“How generous of you.” She knew he’d only won two awards in total over the years. She kept track of these things.
Harry spoke up then. “Yeah, congratulations Sasha.” He had a thuggish face and had unbuttoned his tuxedo shirt to show off his hairy chest. “I’d love to work with you some day.”
“I’ll keep you in mind, doll.”
Billy went up to the bar without asking Sasha what she wanted, but he returned with the right thing, a beautiful pink Cosmopolitan. He knew what she drank these days. He also had a gin and tonic for himself and, tucked under his right arm, a Miller Light for Rafael.
By the time Rafael found them, two other people had joined the table and there was no room left in the semicircle booth.
Sasha looked up at Rafael and said, “Oh, they let you in?”
When Billy got up to find Rafael a chair, Sasha said, “Let Raul get it himself,” but Billy went and got one anyway. She had already finished with her Cosmopolitan by then. She was there to celebrate, so she excused herself and wandered up to the bar to get herself another one.
Several people came up and congratulated her, and she was glad because that was really the only reason she’d come. She wanted to be respected, venerated. She wanted people to lay their good wishes down at her feet.
Back at the table, Gavin Kennedy came over to congratulate both her and Billy on their awards. He said to Sasha, “Are you ready to direct again for Magnum Man?”
“She’s directing for Cougar next,” Steve said.
“Now, now boys.” Sasha held out her hands. “Lord knows there’s enough of Sasha to go around. Gavin, I’d love to direct for Magnum Man again.”
“And what about you, Billy?” Gavin said. “Best Director and Best Sexual Performer together in a new film? We want something big.”
Billy smiled. “I might be available.”
“Good.”
“Watch out,” Steve interrupted. “Mr. Knight here wants a lot of money. And royalties, for Christ’s sake. Thinks he’s a superstar.”
Gavin looked at Billy. “Well, we’ll see what we can do.”
“Great,” Billy said.
Sasha took a long sip of her drink. “Gavin doll, next weekend we start promoting our new Cougar release, Between a Cock and a Hard Place. It’s a prison movie where poor, unsuspecting Billy gets thrown into a jail cell with muscle studs Erik Summers and Dom Cruz. Hot stuff. We finished filming four months ago, and it’s finally on the shelves. We’re doing an eight city tour.” She glanced at Billy and squeezed his knee, then looked back at Gavin. “When I’m back in town let’s have lunch and talk about a new Magnum Man film,” Sasha said. “Something fabulous.”
“We’ll want one of your tours, too.” Gavin said.
“Of course, doll. Everybody does.”
“Call me when you’re back in town then.” Gavin smiled and walked away.
Billy went up to the bar and came back with another Cosmopolitan for her. She didn’t know where her last one had gone. As he sat back down, Blane began going on about his latest film, how it was sure to win an award next year. Unfortunately he explained the plot in detail. “It’s science fiction porn set in the future, in a world where people get psychic powers from dildos. The bigger the dildo, the bigger the power. Isn’t that awesome? It’s my idea totally. Imagine Blade Runner meets Carrie, only with hot sex and dildos everywhere. Isn’t just the most amazing porn plot ever?”
“My dear Blane,” Sasha said. “Never before has the world seen such genius as yours. It truly is astounding.”
Blane smiled broadly. “It’s going to be one helluva fuck film,” he said. “I ought to be put in some Hall of Fame somewhere for this one, really!”
“Nobel Prize, possibly,” Sasha said.
“Really? You think so? That would be awesome.”
Sasha sighed. She couldn’t endure another minute listening to this moron. She hastily tipped back her entire drink and asked Billy if he wanted to dance. He said yes, and she was happy, but her heart fell when he asked Rafael to join them.
The DJ was playing a re-vamped disco tune that she remembered from the first time around. Billy moved back and forth so quickly on the dance floor that she could barely keep track of him. Rafael kept grabbing him and kissing him and she was pleased each time she saw Billy pull away. She found herself thinking that Billy should keep Rafael chained in a little cage in his room and just let him out when he wanted sex. Rafael could be such a nuisance otherwise.
But then abruptly Billy gave in to Rafael’s advances and they stood in the middle of the dance floor making out, right in front of her, as though they’d forgotten about her. She danced by herself for a little while, watching. They almost looked happy. Her heart fell even further. All she had was a small bouquet of flowers, the smile of a boy who held them out to his mother, while Rafael had all this: making out with Billy on the dance floor, his hand on Billy’s ass now, Billy’s tongue in his mouth. How could someone as dumb as Rafael get so much? She slipped away unnoticed, went to the bar, and ordered a shot of tequila. A bartender she’d never met told her she was wonderful and the shot was on the house. She ended up having two, and chatting with the bartender, who was incredibly cute and well built, so she asked him if he’d ever considered a career in porn. He smiled and shrugged and she pulled out one of her business cards, which she kept in her bra. It had a color picture of her and said, “Sasha Zahore. Transvestite Homosexual Pornographer.” Although the card was a bit damp with sweat he seemed happy to take it. “Call me,” she said, and then there he was again with the tequila bottle in his hand, so maybe it was three shots after all.
The music was better after that and she worked her way back to the dance floor. She couldn’t find Billy anywhere, so she danced alone, the black charmeuse of her dress flowing beautifully across her thighs. Somebody began talking to her, but she didn’t know who it was, and he kept saying how much he’d enjoyed working with her and how she treated her models so much better than some directors who treated them like dirt, it was really terrible. She kept nodding and saying oh, thank you, yes terrible, okay, see you dear and then he was gone and she was by herself again.
She hadn’t eaten dinner that night, because she was so nervous. Maybe that explained why the floor kept shifting now. It was getting harder to dance and she looked for Billy again but she still couldn’t find him, couldn’t even find the table they had been at, couldn’t find any of them – Steve or Blane or Harry or the other two and not even Rafael the talking dildo. Not that she wanted to find Rafael but at least then she would find Billy, as Billy was no doubt still attached to Rafael’s face, or perhaps by now he was attached to some other part. Her stomach felt a little odd and she looked for the bathrooms and then she was in the stall and hurling into the toilet just like that. Billy’s voice was calling her and she said I’m in here and he couldn’t open the stall door because it was locked and she reached up and concentrated and undid the latch. Billy’s arms were around her now and she looked at him and she said, “Take me drunk I’m home.” He was wiping off her face and straightening her wig.
The lights were brighter on the dance floor and they hurt her eyes leaning into Billy as he moved forward. Then there was Rafael, who looked upset as he handed Billy some keys, and all of a sudden she was standing alone with that stupid talking dildo who should be locked in a cage. Where Billy was, she didn’t know. She hated Rafael for touching her but when she pulled away the floor tilted dramatically to the left so she let him touch her again. They were standing by the bouncers at the front door and Billy came in and she leaned into him again, much happier to be touching her Billy instead. She
sat down in the front seat of Rafael’s car and Billy was driving and Rafael wasn’t with them. The floor next to her feet was dark and she kicked around and there was nothing and she said “My handbag” and Billy said “Don’t worry I got it.” The hazard lights were blinking orange when he helped her get out of the car, not at all graceful this time, and she laughed at herself because she could direct a porn film, she was the Best Director, but she could barely get out of a car on her own. It looked like the car was in the middle of the road but she knew it must not be because Billy was smarter than that and not drunk like her. Billy was saying things to her, apologizing about buying her another Cosmopolitan. She didn’t tell him about the tequila, or the other drinks, let him think it was his fault. There was no elevator in their building so the stairs kept coming and kept turning and they were going up. Then there was the front door and the front room with the pillows on the sofa and the magazines on the table where she had left them. Without warning the wall tipped at an odd angle and it pushed up against her. Billy’s arm was around her waist, holding her, leading her down the hallway. Her bedroom was there and her big beautiful bed, so soft, she was sitting on the edge of it with Billy next to her and he was saying what am I going to do with you. She turned and looked at him and focused on his face and in her heaven all the angels would look like this. She leaned forward because it was only just a little kiss she wanted, that was all, but it had to be on the lips – mouth open, tongue – it wasn’t a lot, surely he had done much more with much worse than her. His hand on her cheek slowly pushed her face away. No Sasha you’re drunk. Inside she wanted to scream and throw money at him, how much for just a little kiss, but she kept her mouth shut because it would be awful to say that and she had never said it and she never would. Billy stood up. She heard the next words as though somebody else was saying them but they were inside her own voice. Billy why don’t you love me the way I want you to? It was horrible how the words came out sobbing and choking back at the same time. And then he was hushing her, shooshing her like a baby, stroking her wig with his hand. She had been his mother and she had been his father and now she was his child but never his lover, never although of course of course she understood even then that he loved her, but not like that, not with every part of him, not with his lips and his mouth and his dick and his ass and especially not with that very small part of his heart where he kept things hidden. But her bed was moving up next to her and the pillow was now under her head and Billy’s hand was on her forehead saying sleep tight and then he was gone, just gone, and the bed rocked back and forth in the dark and the only thing that saved her from being swallowed by loneliness in that terrible moment was the deep and welcoming solace of sleep.