Date: Thu, 22 Jul 2004 21:11:44 EDT
From: RitchChristopher@cs.com
Subject: lush-life-11
All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
LUSH LIFE
by
Ritch Christopher
Chapter Eleven
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"NIGHT SONG"
"Summer, not a bit of breeze...
Neon signs are shining
Through the tired trees.
Lovers walking to and fro...
Everyone has someone and a place to go.
Listen! Hear the cars go past,
They don't even see me
Flying by so fast...
They're moving, going who knows where?
Only thing I know is
I'm not going there.
Where do you go
When you feel that
Your brain is on fire?
Where do you go
When you don't even know
What it is you desire?
Listen! Laughter everywhere!
Hear it! Life is in the air
As the night comes
And the town awakes;
Sounds of children calling
And the squeal of brakes;
Music, but a lonely song,
When you can't help wondering,
'Where do I belong'?
Where do you turn
When you burn
With this feeling of rage?
Who do you fight
When you wanna break out
But your skin is your cage?
Uptown...just another 'Joe'.
Downtown...where you gonna go?
Always looking for that place to be.
Where's that bright tomorrow
For a guy like me?
Damn! Life is going by
And I stand and wonder,
'Who the hell am I'?"
From the Broadway musical,
"Golden Boy"
Lyrics by Lee Adams
Music by Charles Strouse
Copyright 1964.
<><><><><><><><><>
Benny's note made Clay feel sick to his stomach. Scott saw the look
on Clay's face as Clay jammed the wadded paper into his pocket. Scott
hadn't read it but he surmised it must be bad news. The first thought that
came to Scott's mind was that Dave had come by the apartment while he and
Clay was at the theatre. The perfect evening had ended on a sour
chord. Clay could barely move. He stood outside the door of the apartment
stunned, making no effort to get the key out of his pocket for Scott and
him to enter. Scott did what he could to bring Clay back to reality.
"Clay?"
Clay didn't respond to Scott.
"Clay? Come on, buddy, snap out of it!"
"Huh?"
"What was in that note?"
"Uh..."
"It wasn't from Dave, was it?"
"Uh...no..."
"Well, are you going to tell me or do I have to stand here playing,
'Twenty Questions'?"
"It was from Benny, Scott."
"That son-of-a-bitch won't stop, will he?"
"No..."
"Are...are you going to unlock the door or are we going to sleep in
the nude outside?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry..."
Clay pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the door. Clay
gave the lock a second look to be sure Benny had tried to pry it open and
perhaps was waiting inside. To ease his mind, Clay went into every room and
turned on a light. Luckily for all concerned, Benny was not inside...nor
had he been inside earlier.
"Did he threaten you?" Scott asked.
"No, he just wanted to annoy me, saying he'd see me some time
tomorrow."
"Do you think he's dangerous?" Scott asked. It was the second time
that day that he had spoken those words.
"No."
"You wanna think about getting a restraining order?"
"No, that would mean I'd have to go to court and show a judge just
cause and I don't want to go through all that shit."
"Do you think it would help if I talked with him?"
"Definitely not. You're the reason he's acting this way and I don't
want you to get involved in the middle of my mini-crisis."
"Just the same, I think the Village police should know something
about your problem."
"Let's wait and see if he comes by tomorrow before I take action
against him," Clay said, calmly...then he raised his voice, "DAMN IT TO
MOTHERFUCKING HELL! Why did he have to spoil my, or rather, our evening?
Tonight was the best I've felt since..."
"Since Dave left?"
A moment of silence--"Yes."
"I'm glad you had a good time, Clay, so did I...dinner, the
musical, Joe Allen's...who could want more? Thanks for my celebration
party."
"You're welcome, Scott. I'm glad we enjoyed the meal. That the
check at Sardis! Wow! I'm afraid when I put you on your new diet tomorrow
you won't be eating so high on the hog."
"Oh, God! More broccoli?"
"'Fraid so."
"Shit! What is there in that fucking stuff that's so good about
treating HIV and AIDS?"
"I don't know but Cole swears by it in lieu of all the wonder
drugs. I'm a doctor who believes in pharmaceutical technology, but every
once in a while, it's good to go back the basics and rely on the good old
earth mother...nature."
"All right, if it'll make me get better faster, I'll gag my way
through it...AND cabbage...AND fucking Brussels sprouts!"
"Attaboy!" Clay smiled. "Wanna drink...a nightcap?"
"What? Carrot juice?"
"No, a real drink. You haven't taken your first new pills so a bit
of liquor won't interfere with the chemotherapy."
"Then, I'll have a scotch...a DOUBLE!"
"A single, if you don't mind..."
"All right, you win..." Scott replied, giving in to the doctor's
order. "You know the one thing we haven't discussed about your treating
me...and it's of a very practical nature."
"Okay, what's that?"
"Money! I don't have a job and from the way you've described your
new job, you won't be able to support both of us, and as for Kathy and my
kids, I can't send them a penny, even for child support."
"I thought you told me her folks were well off..."
"They are, but even though she no longer wants me to be her
husband, I still have the responsibility for my two boys."
"That COULD be a slight problem."
"Slight? Where the fuck am I gonna find work? How many marching
bands are there in New York, excluding Thanksgiving Day at Macy's?"
"I'm sure you took music theory in college, didn't you?"
"I couldn't gotten my degree without it."
"And I know if you create marching routines, you surely can arrange
music."
"Yeah. I was tops in my class at arranging. So?"
"So, why don't I call Rick at the Inn and let him check around the
musician's union and see if there's a call for arranging...or for that
matter, you might get a job copying arrangements for Broadway shows or
something along the lines of the recording business. These kids who make
millions selling CD's usually only know four chords on the guitar, I would
imagine. They record their bit and send it to the studio to enhance their
sound with a professional arrangement...you know, something similar to
karaoke."
"Where did you get so smart about my career? You're a doctor. I'm
the one who's supposed to know about music."
"I don't know...oh, here's your drink..."
"Thanks."
"I guess I just kept up with music because my dad was such a big
fan."
"God, he was a great man, Clay!"
"I know. I still miss him. Having you here for the past couple of
days has brought back many memories. It's like you brought back a part of
him with you."
"I'm glad."
"Now, back to where we were...would any job like I mentioned
interest you?"
"Hell, yes, any job! If it weren't for my having this fucking
virus, I'd be applying as a burger-flipper at McDonald's."
"What's the matter...afraid of the malted-milk machine?"
"Well, I thought I'd work my way up. You can't always start at the
very top. You should know that better than I, I guess."
"You know, just sitting here with you, Scott, makes me feel that
we're still teenagers in Plantation."
"God, you wouldn't believe how big Plantation is now. You know the
cow pasture that used to be west of University Drive? Well, it's a big mall
now...and the condos and expensive houses stretch out for miles into the
Everglades. You wouldn't know the place now."
"Still 'Arbor City'? Lots of trees?"
"Tons of 'em...practically forests are growing in people's back
yards. Those huge banyan and ficus trees, some are fifteen or twenty feet
in diameter at the base."
"God, my mom must think she's died and gone to Sherwood
Forest. That's her idea of heaven. By the way, I didn't ask, but how did
she look when you saw her at the supermarket?"
"Beautiful as ever, only now she looks like a rich doctor's wife."
"She adapted to Daddy Rob's lifestyle real well. She's been the
president of three different garden clubs for years and years. I think she
was elected because all the other members want to know her secret of
growing roses."
The phone suddenly rang and both Clay and Scott jumped and gave
each other a puzzled but suspicious look.
"Let me get it," Scott said, reaching for the phone. "Hello?"
"Is the doctor in?" said the voice Scott knew immediately that it
was Benny.
"I'm afraid he's asleep," Scott replied. "May I ask who's calling?"
"This is an emergency. I gotta see him fast."
"Then why don't you call '911' and the paramedics will be there
ASAP!"
"I can't! Only Doctor Lawson knows what to do..."
"Let me see if I can wake him...hold on."
Scott put his hand over the receiver and whispered, "It's Benny."
"Fuck! It's nearly four in the morning. What the fuck does he
want?"
"He said it was an emergency."
"Emergency, my ass! Let me talk to him and get rid of him!" Clay
took the phone from Scott.. "Hello?"
"What's up, Doc? Did you get the note I left?"
"BENNY? FOR FUCK'S SAKE, WHAT DO YOU WANT THIS TIME OF THE
MORNING?"
"You know very well what I want. You see, I'm having this trouble
in my throat and I need you to probe my tonsils with that special
instrument you used the other night."
"I wish you had choked on it!" Clay said, bitterly.
"Maybe I will next time."
"There'll never be a next time! Good night, Benny!" Clay shouted
banging the phone down on the coffee table. "Goddammit! I've got to stop
him calling here."
"Let me think about it for a couple of days, I might have a
solution."
"I hope I can come up with one before you do."
"No, Clay, let me do it. I have something special in mind for
Benny."
There was something sinister in the tone of Scott's voice, but Clay
didn't question it.
<><><><><><><><><>
Dave flew from Chicago to Burbank. After arriving, one of the first
things he did was to buy a pair of sunglasses, not that he had gone,
'tourist' or 'Hollywood', he hadn't seen the sun shine brightly in years,
both literally, and figuratively, speaking. Even on a sunny June day, New
York always looked dank and dreary. It was only at nighttime with the neon
lights when the Big City shone.
Burbank was not the most exciting place in the world...far from it
because Burbank was...well, Burbank!...need more be said? Dave reached into
his pocket to get the address and phone number of the agent he needed to
contact; first, to let him know that he was in town; and second, that he
was there to record the soundtrack.
The agent already knew that Dave was comingl; he had been told of
Dave's saxophone expertise and he was looking forward to hearing this
musical whiz's sound. It seemed Dave's one-night stand at the Hollywood
Bowl six years ago, magically had let his reputation precede him, to his
great surprise. He still couldn't understand how it was possible that the
conductor would remember him and could recall his playing on only one
night's performance plus three rehearsals. It never occurred to Dave how
talented he was and what a huge impression he made on anyone who heard him
playing his sax. He had a gift, but he wasn't aware of its greatness. Clay
had recognized it the first night at the Rustic Inn. It was Dave's
mellifluous tones which had assisted in Clay's falling in love with Dave
almost instantly.
The agent gave Dave the address and telephone number of a couple of
musicians who were looking for a third roommate to share expenses while the
recording was being made; Ronnie Miller, a violinist, and George Toehill, a
trombonist. Dave decided to meet the two in person to see if the three
would be compatible. After all, living AND working together for two weeks
can sometimes create havoc after the third day. So Dave first made a call
which George answered by saying he and Ronnie were settling into the
three-room apartment and invited Dave to come on over. Dave hopped into a
cab and was there in twenty minutes.
Ronnie and George were almost as different in personalities as
their musical instruments. Ronnie was a bit fussy while George bordered on
being a slob. Immediately, his first impression of the two made Dave think
of Oscar and Felix in 'The Odd Couple'. Ronnie was in his mid-twenties,
tall, slender, and looking somewhat like Anthony Perkins, a 'gay'-looking
Anthony Perkins. George, on the other hand, was in his early thirties and
was somewhat more attractive than Ronnie. George's body, at least what Dave
could see, gave the appearance of his having worked out in a gym recently,
as his pec muscles made his button-up shirt a big snug, trying to bulge out
and putting strain on the buttons. George was more gregarious and out-going
than Ronnie, who was more conservative. It became obvious that George was
straight and quite the ladies' man who was constantly on the prowl for free
pussy.
When Dave arrived, George offered Dave a drink, tempting Dave, but
he refused. Dave's recent bout with alcohol had made him cautious about
drinking anything stronger than a diet Coke. After Dave turned down the
drink, George followed up quickly by asking Dave if he'd like a joint or
toke. This made Dave uncomfortable. He was not there to socialize with
booze and drugs. He was there to get back on his feet, complete the
soundtrack job, and keep his life straight, in a manner of
speaking. Ronnie, too, had refused George's offers which made Dave think
that Ronnie could balance the scale if the trio was to live together for
the short duration.
There were two bedrooms in the apartment, each having one double
bed. Dave would either have to sleep with Ronnie or with George, OR sleep
on the couch. Sleeping with either roommate could present a problem for
Dave for two separate reasons. His share of the rent would be $650.00 for
the two-week stay and that was a bit exorbitant for a too-short, very
uncomfortable-looking couch. Of the three choices, sleeping with Ronnie
seemed the safest bet as long as sex didn't become involved when they were
alone together. However, Ronnie didn't seem to be aggressive and Dave knew
for certain he had no interest in Ronnie sexually because he was still in
love with Clay and would not betray their relationship even if he and Clay
were never to see each other again.
The musical trio conversed for over two hours and Dave became
friendly to his prospective roommates and finally agreed that he would pay
his share of the rent as soon as he could get to the nearest ATM. So after
leaving his new temporary residence, Dave took another cab back to the
airport to get hthe duds which Phil had bought him when he was discharged
from the Chicago county hospital.
He returned to the apartment two hours later and unpacked his new
wardrobe into the two empty dresser drawers which Ronnie had left for
him. Later that evening, the three new roommates ordered pizza and stayed
home the entire evening, surfing the channels of the basic cable TV which
was comprised of everything except premium movies and adult films. They
settled on watching Ovation Channel featuring the Montreaux jazz festival
followed by a concert of the Vienna Symphony Orchestra and a 1981 nightclub
performance of Lena Horne. Lena was 64, but looked as if she were in her
early thirties. She forgot some of the lyrics of nearly every song she sang
and repeated the lyrics of the first eight bars twice. It didn't matter,
for her voice was still strong and seductive, and she could belt out a high
note and hold onto it.
There was a nine o'clock morning rehearsal scheduled for the next
day, so the three went to bed at 11:00 PM. Dave and Ronnie each felt
awkward about sharing the same bed with an almost total stranger. The two
of them waited while George used the bathroom first to do whatever he
deemed necessary before retiring. Dave let Ronnie go next while he
stretched out on the bed with the bedspread still in tact. Ten minutes
later, Ronnie returned in a tee shirt and slacks with a damp towel around
his neck, carrying his toothbrush in his hand and a small leather zip-up
case containing his shaving gear. Finally, it was Dave's turn to use the
facility.
Dave opted to shower, since he felt grungy from his earlier
airplane flight from Chicago. He shaved while in the shower and brushed his
teeth afterwards and gargled heavily with Listerine to get rid of the
cheesy, garlicky taste left in his mouth from the pizza. Dave returned to
his and Ronnie's bedroom, dressed almost identically to Ronnie...tee shirt
and slacks, including a towel hung around his neck.
Ronnie hadn't turned down the covers yet and was still dressed as
he had been when Dave had headed for the bathroom. Dave was somewhat amazed
to see Ronnie sitting on one side of the bed reading a Holy
Bible. 'Religious, huh?' Dave thought beginning to feel more secure about
the idea of sharing with Ronnie.
"Ready to go to sleep?" Dave asked.
"Almost, I'm almost through with this chapter."
"What are you reading?"
"Song of Solomon," Ronnie replied. "I usually read Song of Solomon,
Ecclesiastes or Proverbs every night at bedtime. I find the verses relaxing
and almost musical. Have you ever read them?"
"A long time ago when I was a kid, going to church with my mother."
"You oughta read them again. The words are like lyrics dying to
become a song..."
"Perhaps I will," Dave replied. "Listen, Ronnie, I...I always sleep
au natural, but I won't if it's gonna be a problem with you."
"Uh...no. I...I can't do that. I can't go to sleep unless I'm
complete dressed in long sleeve pajamas. But you go ahead and do whatever
makes you comfortable."
"Thanks, you do the same."
Dave had no qualm about undressing in front of Ronnie, although
Ronnie, in turn, kept his front hidden while putting on his PJ's. Dave was
aware that Ronnie was sneaking a peek as Dave lowered his trousers and
boxer shorts.
"You...you look like you keep your body in pretty good shape,"
Ronnie said, covering his eyeful curiosity.
"In New York, when I used to come home after work, I'd do a few
sit-ups and push-ups before going to bed. The workout made me tired enough
to go to sleep faster."
"It shows." Ronnie said, buttoning the top of his pajamas. Dave
wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Ronnie whispering a prayer after they
had gone to bed and the lights were out.
"Excited about tomorrow?" Dave asked when he was satisfied that
Ronnie had finished praying.
"Sorta," Ronnie replied. "I've never worked under Mr. Williams
before. His reputation is so powerful...man! with all his compositions,
it's an honor to work with someone of that high a calibre."
"I played one gig with him at the big Bowl a few years ago when I
was just a kid starting out and I was scared shitless. I didn't want to be
the one to hit a clinker. I think everyone who plays with him feels the
same way. He's the musical master of the 20th AND 21st centuries."
"I made sure I had new strings on my violin. I put them on myself
day before yesterday so they'd have time to stretch in place."
"At least you have an instrument," Dave said. "My best ax is in New
York at my apartment and I'll have to pick up one at the rehearsal. The guy
at the agency said I'd have a few to choose from. Of course, not having
seen the score, I don't know if my work will be all alto or maybe some
tenor. I guess they'll have both instruments for me to use."
"How did you get a job and come all the way to Burbank and not
bring your own saxophone?"
"It's a long story, Ronnie. I...uh...had a great many detours
getting here."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, lots of things happened...things I... I really don't want to
talk about."
"Then I won't ask."
"Thanks."
"Goodnight," Ronnie said, turning back to Dave and facing the wall.
"...Night." Dave replied, facing the opposite wall.
Ronnie would never know how tempted Dave was to turn to him and
hold him, if for no other reason than to pretend he was holding Clay in his
arms. But Dave knew better than to start something that could lead to
disaster over the next two weeks of their sharing a bedroom. However, two
hours later, it was Ronnie who made a somewhat inappropriate move toward
Dave when he turned over and placed his hand on Dave's naked hip. Ronnie's
gesture startled Dave and he awoke rather quickly. Dave was not certain if
Ronnie had touched him purposely or if Ronnie was reacting to a dream he'd
been experiencing. Either way, Dave took Ronnie's hand and removed it...and
just in case Ronnie WAS awake, Dave uttered a whispered but firm,
"Don't...Don't, please." They drifted back to sleep with no other odd
nocturnal occurrences. Neither of them mentioned the incident to the other
the following morning.
Before the first rehearsal began, Dave was shown several saxophones
to choose from, some brand new, others not so new. As soon as Dave read
'Selmer' on the front of the bell, he had no trouble making his
decision. He had played a Selmer saxophone since grade school and trusted
the name to give him the sound he needed.
The rehearsal manager went about the large room, placing the
respective musical scores on the stands of each instrument. The orchestra
was comprised of forty musicians...a much larger orchestra than Dave had
anticipated, knowing the large salary he'd been promised. The score's pages
were taped together and if stretched out would run clear forty or fifty
feet. They were going to play a LOT of music in a short time. Dave began
flipping through the musical pages and he saw many long solo passages
written for him, particularly on the alto sax...plus a few on tenor as
well.
He had been informed correctly. Except for the original segues,
Dave knew every song in the entire score...most of them he had played
nightly at the Rustic Inn. The oboe played the concert 'A' and the concert
mistress in first chair violin tuned her instrument to it. The violas,
cellos, and string basses followed her pitch; then the woodwinds, and
brass. Each orchestra member was ready to play with one eye on the overture
and the other waiting for the conductor's baton to drop.
The sound of the orchestrations was magnificent, as everyone had
expected. During section two, it was time for Dave's first alto solo,
Harold Arlen's, 'The Man That Got Away', a tune Arlen had written for Judy
to sing in 'A Star Is Born', and which almost became Judy's signature song,
second only to 'Over The Rainbow' which the same composer had also written
for Judy many years before.
It took Dave nearly eight bars to familiarize himself with the
saxophone; during the next eight, he eased into his groove and by the time
he began the bridge, he was all but wailing one of the most glorious sax
sounds that anyone in the orchestra had ever heard. Many of themusicians
stopped playing background chords just to listen to te sheer elegance which
Dave was producing. The conductor was right; he had not forgotten the way
Dave played...only now, nearly ten years later, Dave sounded even better,
if that was possible.
John Williams, observing that not all the players were playing, cut
the orchestra off as soon as Dave finished his solo. There was a momentary
silence and then, en masse, the orchestra broke into applause, including
Mr. Williams.
John smiled and said to the rest of the orchestra, "Now you see
what you're up against? I want everyone to try and match Dave's inner tone
quality. He feels what Arlen wrote and he expresses his emotions in his
sound."
Of course, Dave was embarrassed, FLATTERED, but still
embarrassed. Dave looked at Ronnie to get his smiling approval. Even George
was impressed.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we'll continue where I cut you off at
letter 'K'."
Once again the orchestra began to play, but it sounded wonderfully
different than before. Dave had inspired everyone in the room as each tried
to find the 'inner tone quality' of HIS instrument. After two hours, they
took their first break and the musicians nearest to Dave went to him to
reap praise and compliments on him.
Only last week, Dave's self-esteem was lower than the belly of a
Texas sidewinder, but today, after two hours of playing, he felt he could
fight a dragon with his restored self-confidence. If he could somehow
forget what had happened to him at the jail and the traumatic days which
followed, maybe, just maybe, he could see Clay once again. But they were
nearly three thousand miles, and a whole world of shame, apart.
Rehearsal for the day ended around four-thirty that afternoon. When
their instruments were back in their cases, Dave met up with Ronnie and
George to see what they could plan for dinner. After hearing Dave play,
George suddenly wanted to become Dave's best friend. Maybe other members of
the orchestra would be impressed with George if they saw him being
'buddy-buddy' with the star soloist.
George called Dave to one side away from Ronnie and in a low voice
suggested, "Hey, Dave! I...uh...got these coupla of chicks who put out at
the sound of a fly's zipper. I can't handle both of 'em...and I was
wonderin' if you'd like to spend the night in my room. The bed would be a
little crowded with four people...but with two on two and well, I don't
know if you prefer top or bottom, but we could situate ourselves somehow
and have a big night together!"
Dave gave George a funny look which George didn't understand as
Dave said, "Thanks, George, but no."
"Man, it's free pussy. What more could you want?"
Dave didn't reply and George quickly added, "You...never mentioned
having a wife back in New York. Do you? Is that what it is? Faithful, true
unto the end...until death dost you part? Is that it?"
"No, George, I don't have a wife...in New York or anywhere."
"Then why the fuck would you turn down my offer? Don't try to
convince me that a strong manly hunk like yourself would rather sleep with
Grace?"
"Grace?"
"That's my pet name for all fag violin players...Grace Notes."
"Are you referring to Ronnie?"
"Sure...Ronnie...'Grace', get it?"
"No, I really don't prefer sleeping with Ronnie, but as far as I
know, Ronnie is not a fag."
"Holy shit, man! Don't you know how to recognize a "Grace" when you
see one?"
"I'm afraid you must've had more experience spotting them than I've
had."
"Did he try to grab you in your sleep last night?"
"No, he didn't."
"We...Ronnie and I...we tried sleeping in the same bed that first
night and I couldn't go to sleep. I kept one eye open in case he tried to
make a move on me...and sure as shit, he slowly began to edge his hand onto
my right thigh and I jumped up and ran into the other room to sleep. I knew
what he wanted and I wasn't about to give in. We've been sleeping in
separate rooms ever since...then you arrived. I thought it strange that you
chose to share a bed with him instead of me."
"The only reason I chose Ronnie was that he seemed to be quieter
and ,well, I've had a rough couple of weeks and I need rest. That's the
reason I don't want to party with you with your two chicks tonight or any
other night for the next two weeks. I don't want to seem rude, but I have
my own private reasons which I prefer to keep to myself."
"Well, excuuuuuuuuuuuze me! Sorry--I was being so fucking generous,
and then to have my hospitality thrown back in my face?"
"I said I was sorry, George, so please! Let's drop it, okay?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Star Alto Sax Player!" George turned and left in a
huff, leaving Dave with Ronnie to make dinner plans for the two of them,
which wound up being another night of pizza while watching movies on TV.
Later that night, as George partied with two older
women-of-the-night, Jeff and Ronnie went to bed in their room. Dave was
grateful that no repetition of the previous night's misadventure occurred.
The two of them maintained the same sleep schedule for the next two weeks
until the soundtrack was finally laid for the movie.
Each day at a different moment in the rehearsals, Dave continued to
'wow' his fellow performers as Dave himself also continued to improve
physically and emotionally. When the final track had been recorded, the
agent who had looked after Dave and had semi-represented him for two weeks,
dropped by the studio to make a proposition to Dave.
"It'll be recorded live by PBS. It'll be in Boston with a much
larger orchestra than the one you've been playing with and you'll be
playing the same identical charts you've been looking at for the past two
weeks. I think I can swing maybe twenty-five or thirty 'thou' for the one
performance plus two rehearsals. I'll take care of your plane fare...and
your hotel bill. It's like a free trip on me. Of course, the national TV
exposure won't do you any harm either. Who knows how many bookings you
might...I mean,that 'I' might pick up for you."
"I don't know, Sam, I...I came out to the west coast with the
intention of staying out here for a while. I like the weather and the
people. I don't know if I want to go to Boston...it's too near New York and
there a few things there I'm not ready to face again, not just yet."
"DAVE! The fucking plane doesn't have to land in New York. I can
get you a non-stop return trip ticket, flight to Boston and back again. You
won't have to go within two hundred miles of New York except maybe when the
plane if flying over it. Think about it? What else do you have lined up now
that this gig is over? It's a lotta bucks for a short period of time. Come
on and say, 'yes'...PLEASE, DAVE, for both our sakes!"
"I'll call you in the morning after I mull it over tonight, but I
won't give you a definite 'yes' or 'no' until then."
"Okay, Dave, but really, really, give it some hard thought?"
"I will, Sam, I promise."
Dave could have given Sam his answer then and there but he was
amused by watching an agent squirm.
<><><><><><><><>
After the last call from Benny, Clay and Scott both indulged in
another drink to settle their nerves and to help them get to sleep. The
phone didn't ring again until 8:00 AM. It was Louise, Dr. Parker's
secretary at St. Bart's, calling to see if Clay could drop by the hospital
some time that morning to make sure that all of Clay's medical credentials
were in order and also to ask when Clay had had his last physical
examination as doctors and nurses both neglect their own health and seldom
take time for complete physicals. Often professional medical people will
rely on essential vital statistics but seldom have lab work run on
themselves such as blood, urine, etc. One positive thing which came about
from the AIDS pandemic was required HIV- and AIDS-tests for all hospital
personnel. Clay hadn't been checked for AIDS or STD's for quite awhile
since he had not participated in sex with a partner until Dave.
He and Dave had not consummated their relationship with anal
intercourse and Dave had no fear of being tested as he was always
particularly safe around his patients when examining them. Clay's marks
from college and medical school impressed Dr. Parker, the administrator,
and also Dr. Brantley, the chief of staff and Clay's direct
supervisor. Rereading his final test scores, Dr. Parker almost became
suspicious as to why Clay had accepted the position at St. Bart's as Clay
seemed to be overqualified for the job.
Dr. Parker was also impressed by Clay's work in his special field
with Hodgkin's Disease. It was Dr. Ed at Cole who had told John Parker
about Clay's own father dying from the dreaded disease which helped to
explain Clay's interest in it.
Clay answered Louise's call on the second ring and prevented Scott
from being awakened. So Clay left Scott a note telling him where he was and
why he left. He left a handwritten breakfast menu for Scott to choose from
since this morning was the start of his new diet and chemo regimen and said
that he, Clay, would stop at the grocery store on his way back from
St. Bart's and purchase other items on the suggested or required foods list
Ed had sent along with the new power drugs.
Scott slept soundly until 11:00AM and would've slept longer if the
goddamned phone hadn't awakened him. Scott crawled out of bed and looked
around the apartment quickly for Clay and then walked to the phone.
"Hello?"
"Is the doc in?" asked Benny.
"No, Benny, I just got up and I don't see him."
"Slept late, did you? You and the doc must've had a wild time in
bed."
At first, Scott started to deny Benny's accusation, but he changed
his mind to see what kind of reaction he'd get from a jealous Benny.
"Yeah, I guess we did, Benny. Too bad you missed it."
"So you and Clay ARE getting it on in the bedroom?"
"I never denied it."
"But Clay sure did."
"Why should that concern you, Benny? After all, you're not involved
with Clay in a relationship."
"We could've been until he took in a house guest."
"Why, Benny, you're behind in the latest news. Don't you read the
Times?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm no longer just a guest. I've moved in with Clay and I'm a
permanent resident!"
"What about Dave? What's gonna happen when he returns?"
"Oh, Clay and I have that all figured out, but it's not for your
eyes and ears to know."
"Listen, Florida boy..."
"Oh, is that what you call me? My name is Scott in case you've
forgotten."
"Okay, listen, SCOTT!. You must be something pretty special in
bed. I've always considered my technique in the bedroom hard to be beat."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself, Benny."
"I'm curious to know what you did to win over Clay when I failed."
"Tsk, tsk, don't ask, don't tell...isn't that what's in vogue now?"
"Can I ask you one question?"
"You can ask..."
"Did...did he let you fuck him?"
"God damn, Benny! You think I'd tell something like that to a
practically total stranger?"
"All right, wise ass, you told me I could ask..."
"But I made no promise to you that I would answer, did I?"
"You know what, Scott? You're an asshole. I can't see what Clay
could ever see in you!"
"You mean why would he choose me over you? Is that your question?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, I'm afraid you'll just have to fade away into oblivion
without ever knowing the answer."
"Seriously! Are you really moving in with Clay?"
"Seriously, I am."
"Fuck!"
"Why, Benny, I thought you would be happy to hear I'd found a new
home."
"I don't even know you, fuck head...but...but I'd like to."
"What?"
"I'd like to get to know you better...you know...just you and me on
the side."
"Without Clay knowing about it?"
"Why would he have to know?"
"No reason, I guess...So, what do you have in mind, Benny?"
Scott was baiting Benny and he was falling for it; hook, line, and
condom.
"Well, doesn't Clay start his new job next week?"
"I believe so."
"And well, you're gonna be by yourself part of the time at Dave's
apartment, aren't you?"
"Probably..."
"Then maybe I could come by and keep you company while Clay's
playing doctor. We could listen to some of Dave's CD's, maybe have lunch or
dinner, depending on what hours Clay's working...maybe drink a little wine
and, you know, get to know one another better...maybe a LOT better."
"Benny, I declare I do believe your coming on to me. Your charm
lacks no subtlety."
"So, whaddya say? Yes or no?"
"It depends on my mood, Benny, but more importantly, it depends if
you're willing to abide by my rules and regulations."
"What rules?"
"It's just that before I engage in any type of sexual activity, I
present my partner with a list of rules he must follow or it's no
dice...mission scrubbed!"
"Like what?"
"I'm a little old fashioned. I insist that all my partners take a
shower or bath and scrub their genital area with a mild disinfectant."
"You mean take a bath before I get there?"
"Huh uh...AFTER you get here. I have to watch you bathe so I have
no doubt that your body is clean."
"All right! I won't mind taking a bath once I get there. What
else?"
"I call the plays. It's up to me who does what to whom? You can
only go down on me if I say so or not at all."
"Oh, that's one thing you won't deny me OR yourself. Ask
Clay. He'll tell you how good my oral sex is."
"I'd rather find out about it myself...but ONLY if I'm in the
mood."
"What about if you wanna go down on me?"
"That's still for me to decide...and only me."
"What about other stuff? I mean do you fuck?"
"Again...ONLY if I'm in the mood."
"I guess I'd better choose the right mood music or else it could be
a pretty boring session."
"Oh, you won't be bored. I can assure you of that."
"Are those all your rules?
"No, I have one other."
"Uh oh! Let's hear it."
"I said I'm old fashioned...but I'm REALLY old fashioned. First of
all, Clay can never know what we did...NEVER! And being REALLY
old-fashioned, I don't like condoms. If I'm gonna be fucked, I wanna feel
real skin against mine...not superficial rubber."
"You like it barebacked?"
"Totally."
"Damn! That's no problem. That's the way I like it, only no one
will try it these days. So that's it?"
"That's it!"
"Fuck, there's nothing so bad with your rules...just let me know
what time to be there."
"Promise you won't call Scott or me until after next Monday when I
know about Clay's work schedule. Now remember, one phone call from you
BEFORE Monday and I'll call the whole deal off. Is that understood?"
"Totally."
"All right, call me around noon next Monday and I'll name the
time."
"Scott, you WON'T be sorry. You're gonna have the best time of your
life."
"That remains to be seen, Benny!"
"Only by you."
"Good bye, Benny, and remember no more calls."
"Fine."
Scott gently replaced the phone down and smiled deviously as he
walked back into the kitchen and looked at his new pills.
"Benny, I have a little 'gift' for you."
<><><><><><><><><><>
(To be concluded in Chapter Twelve of "Lush Life").