by Ty Jacob
After several more hours of light and unsatisfying sleep, he opened his eyes and lay staring at the ceiling for a long time. Today would be the fourth day that he would not show up for work. Since calling in sick on Wednesday, he hadn’t bothered calling in again. He just didn’t show. It didn’t matter. He felt as though his head and chest had been hollowed out. There was nothing left of him but the most minimal of necessities. Eat. Shit. Sleep. He hadn’t showered in – he wasn’t sure how many days.
Slowly he sat up, paused, eventually got out of the bed, and then walked down the hallway in his boxer shorts. It didn’t matter if he put on his robe. He was alone. He pulled at the elastic waist, which curved down around his large belly. Standing in front of the phone, he picked up the receiver and dialed the number again. What came back was the familiar beep of Mike’s pager. He slowly entered his number and hung up. He’d lost track of how many times he’d done this since Wednesday night. Maybe twenty or thirty times a day? Maybe more? He couldn’t say.
Next he dialed Mike’s home number. The machine clicked on. At least with this number he always heard Mike’s voice. “Hey there, you’ve reached Mike and Nick. Leave a message.”
Dale cleared his throat before the beep.
“Hi Mike. It’s me again. Please, just call me back. I need to talk to you. Call me. Please.” He hung up and started walking back toward his room.
Before he got there, the blackness came down again. It felt like a heavy wool blanket falling over him, shutting out all the light and sound, pushing him down with a horrible weight. He felt his back sliding down the wall outside the bathroom door, and he ended up sitting on the floor. Up above him, on the opposite wall, three of Mike looked out, smooth skin like marble against the dark background of the photos. He would never have any of those Mikes. That one would never call him back again. That one would never say hello on the street. That one would always despise him.
Dale balled both hands into fists, curled his body into a ball, and began to punch his head. His knuckles against his skull made a satisfying thunk, thunk, and white-sharp flashes of pain ran through him.
The blackness happened now from time to time, and when it was all gone, when it had run its course and lifted off him, he felt hollow again, and he could begin to move, to do the basic things. Finally he was able to put his hand on the wall and pull himself up. He stepped like an old, feeble man back to his bed.
Sasha never did Cher that night. Dale had thrown off the wig and stayed huddled in the corner of the dressing room, telling Carl to go away. Carl left and got one of the lesser queens to take over the show, but then came back as Dale was taking off the makeup and changing out of the dress. He kept asking Dale questions, wanting to know what had happened. What was Mike saying about Earl fucking bareback? Dale never answered, just said Mike was confused or having a bad trip, or something. Eventually Carl helped Dale slip out the back way.
Dale turned and looked over at the safe now. It was still wide open, had been since he came home and found it unlocked, his private videotape gone, his tiara on the floor, the bottle of Rohypnol lying nearby. It somehow seemed too final to shut that safe again, to lock it. Besides, the only thing that really mattered was gone.
The Rohypnol had been relatively easy to get. His old contact, Fabio, a drug dealer, had helped him. Dale hated it when Fabio called it the ‘date rape’ drug. He didn’t like to think that was what he was doing. Fabio hadn’t been able to get his hands on any of the old pills, the ones that dissolved clear in liquid, and so Dale had been forced to settle for the new pills – the ones with the blue core that dyed the liquid blue to make them easier to detect.
Dale climbed back out of bed, picked up the bottle of pills, and walked into the bathroom. He lifted the toilet lid, opened the bottle, and poured the pills into his hand. They were such a funny color green, so dull they were almost brown. He dropped one into the toilet and watched it dissolve, watched the water in the toilet bowl turn blue. If he wanted, he could drop them all in and flush them down, and they would go away. But it wouldn’t make a difference. He couldn’t undo what he’d done.
He wished he could blame Sasha, but he knew that was a lie.
If he could just get Mike to call him back, to talk to him, he would tell Mike how much he loved him, truly loved him, and not like a sister and not like a brother and not like a mother or a father. He would tell Mike how he’d wanted him with every cell in his body ever since first seeing him under the disco ball at the Lucky Pony, how that initial feeling had only grown into something more as they became closer, how deeply and intensely he had fallen in love with him, how much he wanted to take care of him.
Dale shook his head and sighed. He slid the pills back into the bottle and screwed the white plastic cap down tight. Back in the bedroom, he finally put everything back into the safe – the tiara and the pills. He shut the safe door firmly, checked it twice to make sure it was locked and then, pulling his tired body up, he climbed into bed again. He turned away from the closet, away from the safe, and he tried, once again, to sleep.
54. Looking for Change
MIKE FELT HIS pager go off, looked at the number on the tiny screen, recognized it as Dale’s, and deleted the message. He looked out at the ocean. Over the past few days he’d been doing everything he could to avoid going places where Dale might be, and this morning he’d driven down the freeway to Santa Monica.
He walked through the palm-filled gardens that overlooked the beach, where homeless people were lying on benches next to grocery carts filled with stained blankets. Grey-haired couples wearing khaki shorts and expensive tennis shoes strolled by. He looked down the walking trail. If he walked a mile or so south, the trail would take him to Venice Beach. Sasha liked it there. He wouldn’t go south.
He walked toward the pier. It was why he’d come here.
The Santa Monica Pier was somewhat rundown, but dotted with cafes and arcades. There was an old hand-carved carousel, even a small amusement park. It wouldn’t be very crowded on a Monday morning, and he liked that idea. Besides, Dale never came here. Mike walked up along the pier, out over the water now, past a seafood restaurant that was just opening. Santa Monica Bay surrounded him. There were telescopes nearby. He put in some coins, looked north at the Santa Monica Mountains, then out at the sea.
The entire day lay empty in front of him. He’d cancelled all his appointments for the next two weeks. The agency was furious, but he didn’t care. It was impossible to see clients now, the way he felt. He looked out at the water again. He hadn’t been knocked this hard, felt this bad, since that night in the hotel across from the Spares ‘n’ Strikes, back in Cincinnati, just before he left.
Back then, when that guy had held him down, Mike had felt that it was his own fault. He’d been drinking. He’d shown poor judgment going with a guy he didn’t know. But this time it was different. Yes, he’d been drinking at the Lessing party, but it was with Dale, someone he knew, someone he trusted. Yet even so, it had happened to him twice now. He wondered what he was doing wrong, what he was still doing wrong. He wondered what he had to change.
The day after he found the videotape, Steve Logan called, and immediately Mike wondered if he knew. Very quickly it became clear that Steve had no idea. He just wanted Mike to come in and talk about doing a new movie, but Mike didn’t want to go to Cougar. Even if Sasha wasn’t directing for them anymore, she still worked there. She would be around, in their studio, somewhere. He told Steve he’d call him back, but it was a lie.
Mike didn’t want to do any more movies for Cougar. He didn’t want to do any more movies for anyone. He tried to imagine his life without porn, without escort work, and it almost seemed possible. He’d never felt that way before. It could be something that he used to do.
He’d gotten tested that same day Steve called, at the old community health center on San Vicente that he always went to, because it was anonymous and free. He was terrified. The only way he was able to get there was by telling hi
mself that it was just his usual test. There was nothing different about this one. Nothing bad had happened.
Standing alone on the pier, he calculated the days. He wouldn’t get the results back until Thursday. That meant three more days of waiting.
He was standing in front of the amusement park entrance when his pager went off again, and he was ready to delete the number almost automatically. Then he noticed it was a 305 number. That was Miami. It was Kerry. They hadn’t spoken since Mike had stormed out of Kerry’s apartment and slammed the door.
Mike went back to the seafood restaurant and stepped inside. There was a pay phone near the door, but he had no change. A waitress was setting tables. He asked her for change and called Kerry. The restaurant was empty and silent, and the waitress could hear everything Mike said.
“Hey, it’s Mike.”
“Mike! Hello! I’m so glad you called me back. I was worried you weren’t going to.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. You know, the way you left. Who knows? Anyway, it’s really good to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear yours, too.”
“How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” Mike looked over at the waitress, who was carrying a tray of silverware from table to table, arranging knives and forks and spoons. “I’m at a pay phone. Can’t really talk.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Well, sort of. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
“Wait. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Can I call you at home later?”
“Of course.”
They agreed on a time, and Mike hung up and walked back out onto the pier. The ocean air hit him, and he wandered along again. He had no idea how he was going to fill his day.
Eventually he ate breakfast at a café overlooking the water, and then he drove back to West Hollywood and sat in his room for a while. Nick was home, in the kitchen doing something. Mike felt trapped. After a while he got up and went to the gym, thinking he could lose himself in a workout. He just hoped that he wouldn’t see anybody he knew.
He was on the treadmill when he saw Earl on the rowing machine in the corner. It was so ordinary, so plain – just a guy on a rowing machine – but he felt everything inside him heave and churn. He hit the red ‘STOP’ button, and the treadmill slowed and came to rest. He stepped down, moving slowly, trying not to draw any attention to himself. The locker room wasn’t far, but as soon as he turned from the treadmill to cross the floor, Earl looked up and saw him.
Mike looked away quickly, kept walking. He made it to the locker room, fumbled with his lock before finally getting it open and grabbing his gym bag. As he turned to leave, Earl was standing behind him.
“Hi Mike.”
“Fuck you. Get away from me.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Talk to me?” He paused, then walked around Earl, giving him a wide berth. He stepped out of the locker room.
“Hey, Mike.” Earl was right behind him. “Wait up.”
Mike kept walking. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
There was a yellow hallway off the reception area that led to the parking garage next door. Mike moved quickly down that hallway and then out into the grey concrete of the garage, all the angled ramps. Earl was still following him when Mike got to his car.
“Mike wait. Sasha told me you wanted to do it.”
Mike had just unlocked the driver side door. He stopped and looked at Earl, said nothing. They were standing close to each other now, there between the cars. Noises echoed around them – the occasional engine starting, tires on the ramps.
Earl actually looked upset. “Carl told me what happened at the Lucky Pony, how you and Sasha fought. And he told me you’d mentioned my name. Sasha wouldn’t tell him what the fight was about. Carl came to me asking what happened.”
Mike threw his gym bag in the car. He didn’t want to hear any of this.
“She told me you wanted to make a bareback movie, Mike. She said she was paying you too.”
“She paid you?”
How many people, Mike wondered, had Sasha paid to hurt him?
Earl nodded slowly. “She said you didn’t want to talk about it. About making the movie. That’s why I didn’t mention it at the party beforehand.”
Mike turned his body toward Earl. He could smell Earl’s sweat. He could see the shadows under his eyes, the thin stretch of his face. “Wasn’t it obvious to you that I was fucked up?”
“I was too, by then. I was totally drunk.”
“You fucked me bareback. You’re positive!”
Earl looked surprised. “Who told you I was positive?”
“Everyone knows you are.”
“That’s bullshit. I’m not positive.”
“Fuck off. Sasha wanted to infect me. That’s why she asked you.”
“Whoa. If she wanted that, she never told me. I wouldn’t have done it bareback if I were positive. Mike, I just wouldn’t do that.”
Mike wanted desperately to believe him. “You’re lying.”
“That was my first time bareback, and I’m negative. I only did it because I needed the money. I kept telling myself it’s not as risky if you’re a top. It’s the bottoms who get infected easily.”
Mike punched Earl then, hard, and Earl spun back and fell against a blue BMW. Earl looked up, his hand to his face, and Mike saw that he was bleeding.
“Stay the hell away from me,” Mike said, then got in his car and drove away.
That night, when Mike called Kerry, he told him everything. Kerry listened in silence. Mike knew that Kerry had never liked Dale, and he expected Kerry would launch into some kind of ‘I told you so,’ but it never came. Instead Kerry just said, “When do you get your HIV results?”
“Thursday,” Mike said. “9:00 a.m.”
“Do you have someone to go with you?”
“No.”
“I’ll come to LA. I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t be silly. They make you get your results alone anyway.”
“I’ll wait in the lobby.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
“You’d fly all the way out here just to sit in some clinic and wait for me?”
“Of course I would. And I’m going to. I just have to cancel some appointments. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Mike picked up Kerry from LAX on Wednesday afternoon, and Kerry immediately insisted that Mike stay with him at his hotel. Mike was reluctant at first, but finally said yes. The entire time they never talked about why Kerry had come to LA. It was the terrible thing that hung in the air between them, but was never mentioned. That evening in the hotel room Mike’s pager went off twice. Both times it was Dale. When they got in bed Kerry tried kissing Mike, put his hand on Mike’s ass, but Mike pushed him quietly away.
“No. I don’t want to,” Mike said.
“Come on.”
“What if I’m positive?”
“We’ll be safe. I assume every guy is positive.”
“You’re still negative, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I just can’t. I can’t have sex right now.”
Kerry sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” Kerry wrapped his arms around Mike and held him. “We’ll talk instead. Let’s talk about you moving to Miami.”
“You won’t want me there if I’m positive. It’ll change everything.”
“That’s not true. It may come as a surprise to you but guess what, I really like you. I lost you once. I’m not making that same mistake again.”
Mike put his head on Kerry’s chest, and he fell asleep that way.
The next morning he was too nervous to eat, so he just lay in bed with Kerry, watching morning television and waiting until it was time to go. Kerry drove Mike’s car to the health center, and then they sat side-by-side in the waiting room.
There was a skinny g
ay guy across the room who kept staring at Mike, and it made Mike uncomfortable. The guy must have recognized him, but he didn’t want to be Billy Knight right then. He wanted the guy to stop staring.
Kerry realized what was happening and, in a loud voice across the waiting room, he said, “What you are you looking at?”
The guy turned away.
A woman in a white uniform came out. Mike had never seen her there before. She called Mike’s anonymous number. Kerry squeezed his leg and said, “I’ll be right here.”
Mike stood up and followed the nurse. She sat down across from him in a small grey room and opened his file. She looked up at him. There was a mole on her left cheek, just to the left of her nose. “Now, I just need to confirm once more,” she said. “You’re DY67392, correct?” Her mole moved when she talked.
“Yes,” Mike said.
“And your birth date is April 29th 1965, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Your test came back negative. Congratulations.”
Mike stared at her blankly.
“Do you have any questions?” the nurse asked.
“No.” Suddenly he couldn’t stop smiling.
“Do you need any condoms?”
“Sure.”
She reached into a basket and gave him a handful, talked to him about safe sex. He stuffed the condoms in his pocket and walked out.
In the hallway he felt his pager go off again. It was Dale’s number. He immediately deleted it. He could not, would not, talk to Dale ever again.
As he stepped into the waiting room, Kerry glanced up and saw him, and suddenly the look on Kerry’s face changed. He looked worried, almost panicked. He got up and came to Mike.
“No, I’m fine,” Mike said. “I’m negative.
Kerry hugged him. “Thank God. Thank God.”
“And I’m hungry.”