“You’re a very nice young man.”
An image of Julian in fifth grade, kicking a soccer ball across a green field.
“Yes, you’re a very beautiful boy,” the man from Indiana says, “and here, that’s all that matters.”
Julian opens his eyes and stares into mine and I turn away and notice a fly buzzing lazily over to the wall next to the bed. I wonder what the man and Julian are going to do. I tell myself I could leave. I could simply say to the man from Muncie and Julian that I want to leave. But, again, the words don’t, can’t, come out and I sit there and the need to see the worst washes over me, quickly, eagerly.
The man walks over to the bathroom and tells us both that he’ll be out in a minute. He closes the bathroom door. I get up from the chair and walk over to the bar to look for something to drink. I notice the man’s wallet which he left on the bar and I look through it. I’m so nervous I don’t care, don’t even know why I’m doing it. There are a lot of business cards in it but I don’t look at any, not wanting to see my father’s. There are some credit cards and the usual amount of cash someone from out of town might carry when coming into the city. There are also pictures of a very tired, pretty woman, the man’s wife probably, and two pictures of his children, all boys, straight-limbed, and with short blond hair and striped shirts, looking full of confidence. The pictures depress me and I put the wallet back down on the bar and wonder if the man took the pictures. I look over at Julian, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, head down. I sit down and then lean over and turn the stereo on.
The man comes out of the bathroom and tells me, “No. No music. I want you to hear it all. Everything.” He switches the stereo off. I ask the man if I can use the bathroom. Julian takes off his underwear. The man smiles for some reason and says yes and I walk into the bathroom and lock the door and turn on both faucets in the sink and flush the toilet repeatedly as I try to throw up, but I don’t. I wipe my mouth and then come back into the room. The sun’s shifting, shadows stretching across the walls, and Julian’s trying to smile. The man’s smiling back, the shadows stretching across his face.
I light a cigarette.
The man rolls Julian over.
Wonder if he’s for sale.
I don’t close my eyes.
You can disappear here without knowing it.
Julian and I walk out into the parking lot. We’ve been in the hotel room since four o’clock and it’s now nine. I have been sitting in the chair for five hours. As we get into Julian’s car, I ask him where we’re going.
“To The Land’s End to get your money. You want your money, don’t you?” he asks. “Don’t you, Clay?”
I look at Julian’s face and remember mornings sitting in his Porsche, double-parked, smoking thinly rolled joints, listening to the new Squeeze album before classes started at nine, and even though the image comes back to me, it doesn’t disturb me anymore. Julian’s face looks older to me now.
It’s around ten and The Land’s End is crowded. The club lies on Hollywood Boulevard and Julian parks in back, in an alley, and I walk with him up to the entrance and Julian pushes his way through the line and kids jeer, but Julian ignores them. From the back door you walk into the club like you’re walking into a cellar and it’s dark and like a cave with all these partitions separating the club into small areas where groups huddle in the darkness. As we walk in, the manager, who looks like a fifty-year-old surfer, is hassling with a group of teenagers who are trying to get in and who are obviously underage. And as the manager winks at Julian and lets us both through, one of the girls in line stares at me and smiles, her wet lips, covered with this pink garish lipstick, part and she bares her upper teeth like she was some sort of dog or wolf, growling, about to attack, and she knows Julian and she says something rude that I can’t hear and Julian gives her the finger.
Before I can make out any faces, my eyes have to wait a minute to get used to the darkness. The club’s crowded tonight and some of the kids waiting out in back won’t be able to get in. “Tainted Love” is playing, loudly, over the stereo system and the dance floor is packed with people, most of them young, most of them bored, trying to look turned on. There are some guys sitting at tables who all look at this one gorgeous girl, longingly, hoping for at least one dance or a blow job in Daddy’s car and there are all these girls, looking indifferent or bored, smoking clove cigarettes, all of them or at least most of them staring at one blond-haired boy standing in the back with sunglasses on. Julian recognizes the guy and tells me that he works for Finn also.
We pass through the crowd and walk into the back, leaving the thumping music and the smoke-filled room behind us. In the back and up the stairs is where Lee, the newly appointed part time DJ, hangs out. Finn’s sitting on a couch talking to him and it seems that it’s Lee’s first night and Lee, blond and tan, seems nervous. Finn introduces Julian and me to Lee and then asks Julian how everything went and Julian mutters fine and tells Finn that he wants the money. Finn tells him that he’ll give it to him, to both of us, at Eddie’s party; that he wants Julian to do a little favor for him; after the little favor, Finn says that he’ll be more than happy to give us our money.
Though Lee’s eighteen, he looks a lot younger than Julian or I and this scares me. Lee’s office looks over Hollywood Boulevard and, as Julian sighs and turns away from Finn, who starts to talk to Lee, I walk to the window and stare at the cars. An ambulance passes by. Then a police siren. Lee looks very preppy, is what Finn says, and then something like, “They like that. That preppy look.” It seems that Lee’s ready and so is Finn and Lee says that he’s a little nervous and Finn laughs and says, “There’s nothing to worry about. You don’t have to do that much. Not with these guys. Just typical studio execs, that’s all.” Finn smiles and straightens Lee’s tie. “And if you have to do anything … well, hey, you make the money, babes.” And Julian says, “Bullshit” a little too loudly and Finn says, “Watch it” and I don’t know what I’m doing here and I look over at Lee, who’s smiling dumbly, and do and don’t see Julian in the same innocent smile.
Julian follows Finn and Lee in Finn’s Rolls-Royce and Julian tells them at a stoplight that he has to drop me off at my car so that I can follow them to Eddie’s place. Julian drops me back at my car at the arcade in Westwood and then I follow the two cars up into the hills.
The house I follow Finn and Lee and Julian to is in Bel Air and it’s a huge stone house with a sprawling front lawn and Spanish fountains and gargoyles looming up above the roof. The house is on Bellagio and I wonder what Bellagio means as I pull into the wide, circular driveway and a valet attendant opens the door and as I get out of the car I can see Finn wrapping his arms around Julian and Lee and they walk through the open front door before me. I follow them into the house and there are mostly men inside, but there are some women too and everyone seems to recognize Finn. Some people even recognize Julian. There’s a strobe light on in the living room and for a moment the slight edginess I feel turns into a sort of wild dizziness and my knees almost buckle and it seems that everyone’s talking, eyes constantly searching; beat of the music matching the movements and the stares.
“Hey, Finn, my main man, how’ve you been?”
“Hey, Bobby. Great. How’s business?”
“Fab. And who’s this?”
“This is my best boy. Julian. And this is Lee.”
“Hey,” Bobby says.
“Hi,” Lee says, and smiles, looks down.
“Say hello.” Finn nudges Julian.
“Hello.”
“Wanna dance?”
Finn nudges Julian again.
“No, not now. Could you excuse me?” Julian breaks away from Finn and Lee and Finn calls after him and I follow Julian through the crowd, but I lose him and so I light a cigarette and wander over to the bathroom, but it’s locked. The Clash are singing “Somebody Got Murdered” and I lean against the wall and break out into a cold sweat and there’s a young guy who I sort of recognize si
tting in a chair staring at me from across the room and I stare back, confused, wondering if he knows me, but I realize it’s pointless. That the guy is stoned and doesn’t see me, doesn’t see anything.
The bathroom door opens and a man and a woman come out together, laughing, and they pass me and I go in and shut the door and open a small vial and notice that I don’t have too much coke left, but I do what’s left of it and I take a drink from the faucet and look at myself in the mirror, run my hand over my hair, and then across my cheek, decide I need to shave. Suddenly Julian bursts in, along with Finn. Finn smashes him against the wall and locks the bathroom door.
“What in the hell are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Julian yells. “Nothing. Just leave me alone. I’m going home. Give Clay his money.”
“You’re acting like a real asshole and I want it stopped. I have some very important clients out there tonight and you are not going to fuck it up.”
“Leave me the fuck alone,” Julian says. “Don’t touch me.”
I lean up against the wall and look down at the floor.
Finn looks at me and then at Julian and sneers. “Jesus, Julian, you are really pathetic, man. What are you gonna do? You don’t have any choice. Do you understand that? You can’t leave. You can’t walk out now. Are you gonna run to Mommy or Daddy, huh?”
“Stop it.”
“Your expensive shrink?”
“Stop it, Finn.”
“Who? Do you have any friends left? What the fuck are you gonna do? Just leave?”
“Stop it,” Julian screams.
“You come to me a year ago with a huge debt to some dealers and I give you a job and show you off and take you around and I give you all these clothes and all the fuckin’ coke you could snort, and what do you do in return?”
“I know. Shut up,” Julian screams, choking, covering his head with his hands.
“You act like an arrogant, selfish, ungrateful—”
“Fuck off, you—”
“—little prick.”
“—asshole pimp.”
“Don’t you appreciate what I’ve done for you?” Finn pushes Julian harder against the door. “Huh? Don’t you?”
“Stop it, you asshole pimp.”
“Don’t you? Answer me. Don’t you?”
“Done for me? You’ve turned me into a whore.” Julian’s face is all red and his eyes are wet and I’m freaking out, just trying to stare at the floor whenever Julian or Finn looks over at me.
“No. I haven’t done that, man,” Finn says quietly.
“What?”
“I didn’t turn you into a whore. You did it yourself.”
The music’s pumping through the walls and I can actually feel it vibrate against my back, almost through me, and Julian’s still looking down and he tries to move or turn away but Finn holds his shoulders back and Julian starts to laugh-cry softly and he tells Finn that he’s sorry.
“I can’t do it anymore .… Please, Finn …”
“Sorry, babe, I just can’t let you go that easily.”
Julian slowly falls to the floor in a sitting position.
Finn has taken out a syringe and a spoon and a book of matches from Le Dome.
“What are you doing?” Julian sniffs.
“My best boy has got to cool down tonight.”
“Finn … But I’m leaving.” Julian starts to laugh. “I really am. I’ve paid my fucking debt. No more. This is it.”
But Finn isn’t listening and he squats down and grabs Julian’s arm and pushes back the jacket sleeve and the shirt and he takes off his own belt and ties it around the arm and slaps at his arm to find a vein and gets one after a while and while he’s heating up something in the deep, silver spoon all Julian keeps saying is “Finn. Don’t.” Finn jabs the needle into Julian’s arm and jiggles it.
“What are you gonna do? You have nowhere to go. You going to tell everyone? That you whored yourself to pay off a drug debt? Man, you are more naive than I thought. But come on, baby, you’ll feel better.”
Disappear Here.
The syringe fills with blood.
You’re a beautiful boy and that’s all that matters.
Wonder if he’s for sale.
People are afraid to merge. To merge.
Finn finally leads Julian out of the bathroom and I follow them and Finn begins to lead Julian up the stairs and, as the two of them make their way up the long staircase, I can see that there’s a door open just a crack at the top of the stairs and the music stops for a minute and I can hear low moans coming from the room, and as Finn leads Julian into the room, a scream suddenly bursts out, and Julian disappears with Finn and the door slams shut. I turn away and leave the house.
After I leave the party, I head for The Roxy, where X is playing. It’s almost midnight and The Roxy is crowded and I find Trent standing near the entrance and he asks me where I’ve been and I don’t say anything and then he hands me a drink. It’s hot in the club and I hold the drink up to my forehead, my face. Trent mentions that Rip’s here and I walk with Trent over to where Rip is, and Trent tells me that they’re going to be singing “Sex and Dying in High Society” any minute now and I say “That’s great.” Rip’s wearing black 501’s and a white X T-shirt and Spin’s wearing a T-shirt that reads: “Gumby. Pokey. The Blockheads” and black 501’s also. Rip comes up to me and the first thing he says is, “There are too many fucking Mexicans here, dude.”
Spin snorts and says, “Let’s kill ’em all.”
Trent must think that this is a pretty good idea because he laughs and nods.
Rip glances at me and says, “Jesus, dude. You look real bad. What’s wrong? Want some coke?”
I manage to actually shake my head and finish Trent’s drink.
A dark boy with a thin mustache and an “Under The Big Black Sun” T-shirt bumps into me and Rip grabs his shoulders and pushes him back into the dancing crowd and shouts “Fuckin’ Spic!”
Spin’s talking to somebody named Ross, and Spin turns to Rip after Rip’s turned away from the stage.
“Listen, Ross has found something in the alley behind Flip.”
“What?” Rip shouts, interested.
“A body.”
“You kidding me?”
Ross shakes his head nervously, smiling.
“This, I’ve got to see.” Rip grins. “Come on, Clay.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t think so. I want to see the show.”
“Come on. I want to show you something at my place anyway.”
Trent and I follow Rip and Spin to Rip’s car and Rip tells us to meet them in back of Flip. Trent and I drive down Melrose and Flip is all lit up and closed and we all make a left and then park behind the building in the deserted lot in back. Ross gets out of his VW Rabbit and motions for Rip and Spin and me and Trent to follow him to the alley behind the empty store.
“I hope nobody told the police,” Ross mutters.
“Who else knows about this?” Rip asks.
“Some friends of mine. They found him this afternoon.”
Two girls come out of the darkness of the alley, giggling and holding onto each other. One says, “Jesus, Ross, who is that guy?”
“I don’t know, Alicia.”
“What happened to him?”
“O.D.’d, I guess.”
“Have you called the police?”
“What for?”
One of the girls says, “We gotta bring Marcia. She’ll freak out.”
“Have you girls seen Mimi?” Ross asks.
“She was over here with Derf and they left. We’re gonna see X over at The Roxy.”
“We were just there.”
“Oh, how are they?”
“Okay. They didn’t sing ‘Adult Books’ though.”
“They didn’t?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, they never do.”
“I know.”
“Bummer.”
The girls leave, talking about Billy Zoom, and
Rip and Spin and Trent and I follow Ross deeper into the alley.
He’s lying against the back wall, propped up. The face is bloated and pale and the eyes are shut, mouth open and the face belongs to some young, eighteen-, nineteen-year-old boy, dried blood, crusted, above the upper lip.
“Jesus,” Rip says.
Spin’s eyes are wide.
Trent just stands there and says something like “Wild.”
Rip jabs the boy in the stomach with his foot.
“Sure he’s dead?”
“See him moving?” Ross giggles.
“Christ, man. Where did you find this?” Spin asks.
“Word gets around.”
I cannot take my eyes off the dead boy. There are moths flying above his head, twirling around the light bulb that hangs over him, illuminating the scene. Spin kneels down and looks into the boy’s face and studies it earnestly. Trent starts to laugh and lights up a joint. Ross is leaning against a wall, smoking, and he offers me a cigarette. I shake my head and light my own, but my hand’s shaking badly and I drop it.
“Look at that, no socks,” Trent mutters.
We stand there for a while longer. A wind comes through the alley. Sounds of traffic can be heard coming from Melrose.
“Wait a minute,” Spin says. “I think I know this guy.”
“Bullshit,” Rip laughs.
“Man, you are so sick,” Trent says, handing me the joint.
I take a drag and hand it back to Trent and wonder about what would happen if the boy’s eyes were to open.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ross says.
“Wait.” Rip motions for him to stay and then sticks a cigarette in the boy’s mouth. We stand there for five more minutes. Then Spin stands up and shakes his head, scratches at Gumby, and says, “Man, I need a cigarette.”
Rip gets up and holds onto my arm and says to me and Trent, “Listen, you two, you’ve gotta come over to my place.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I’ve got something at my place that will blow your mind.”
Trent giggles expectantly and we all leave the alley.