Journey to Mirage Ch. 15

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Rick stood at the third-floor window of his studio apartment and watched Jess drive off in his Cadillac convertible. He exhaled a long breath, not realizing that he had been holding his breath tightly in his chest for the entire ride back into town. He had been agreeing to everything Jess was saying about where they went from here, using one- or two-word phrases and a quiet voice—while inside he was screaming and wildly revolving in his mind what he had to do—what he wanted, who he wanted it from, assessing every thought for honesty and feasibility.

He was standing at the window to make sure Jess was gone.

He then searched around for the calling card he'd kept, took out his prepaid cell phone—the one that Bill Grimes's lawyer had given him, and dialed a number in Santa Fe.

"Yes?" the sleepy voice answered on the other end. Rick heard what he thought were groans and laughter in the background.

"Hello. It's me, Ricky—the guy you know as Randy Lane. You said I could call."

"Ah, yes, the sweet-assed movie star," the tattooed filmmaker said on the other end. It wasn't a putdown. He said it was a great deal of feeling and respect. "You ready to come do a film? I can send someone for you if you'll tell me where—"

"I'm still thinking about it. But maybe you can help me out with something and then maybe I can help you out with something."

"Shoot. What do you want?"

"You're in films. I thought maybe you can find out for me where Doug Groton, the producer of the Journey film, is and how to contact him."

"Sure, kid, all of the gay filmmakers know where Groton is now. You put him on the map. He's still in Arizona. They liked his film so much that they've kept him there at the festival office and he's putting together some more films for their festival next year. Got a number for him right here if you want to hold."

The filmmaker was off and the background noise was clearer now. The unmistakably sound of rough sex, and of someone maybe being taken without full willingness. Rick shuddered, but he held on to the cell phone.

The tattooed filmmaker returned and gave Rick Groton's number in Arizona. "So, how's about it? A little tied up here for a couple of more hours"—this was met in the background noise by a hearty laugh—"but we can set something back up by tonight, say about ten, if you're interested in getting started. I can send someone for you."

"I'm still thinking about it, thanks. I'll call you back in a day or two." He didn't bother to tell the guy he wasn't in Santa Fe anymore.

The next call was to Arizona, and Douglas Groton answered on the third ring.

"Great to hear from you, Rick," he said in response to Rick's voice. "Glad you called. We're a hit. They love you on movie screens coast to coast."

"That's why I called, Mr. Groton. Would you . . . do you have any interest on me coming back to you and doing some more films?"

"That would be great, Rick." And Rick could tell by the inflection in Groton's voice that it would be great indeed. "Dumbest thing I did letting you go. They love you out here. Everyone's clambering to have you in their films. So, a change in mind?"

"No, more just not fighting it anymore. If, of course, the money's good."

"For you, Rick, the money'll be very good, very good indeed. I can send you some to travel on, if you need it."

"Uh, thanks, some up front would be good, but I have enough to travel on." Rick didn't want Groton to have an address to send money to. "Can you give me an address to show up to?"

Groton did. And then, before they signed off, Rick asked him another question.

"Uh, is Billy Dan there with you still?"

Groton laughed down the line. "Nope. He and Howard ran off on me two days after you did. Threw me for a loop, it did. Not because I needed Billy much anymore; the filming was complete and I was in the editing phase. It was rough doing without Howard. And I certainly had guessed on Howard wrong. I wouldn't have bet he even had a dick. Good film editor, though. Him, I missed at that point. Lefty was bad-ass angry and pulling his pube hairs out over the loss of Billy, but I figure Howard will dump him for a new computer and Billy will be crawling back to Lefty one of these days."

Rick hoped not, but he decided not to get into that with Groton.

Groton continued. "Oh, but Spike's back out here. I know he'll be glad to see you too. And I got some more guys like Spike. The film I'm gonna do next is a little, I guess you'd say aggressive. But you'll be perfect in that. You always showed best when it was a little rough and the guy was a bruiser. Viewers eat this vulnerable tail business up. Made you look so much more into it—and you really enjoyed that, I could tell."

Had he really enjoyed that the best, Rick wondered, as he put the cell phone back in the duffel. Maybe he had, if he was honest with himself. But he'd rarely had an alternative. On that there was mostly Phil that he remembered. So, he wasn't at all sure what he liked best.

He didn't dwell on that, though. Packed and having informed his landlord he was leaving immediately and having called the furniture store and told them to come back and pick up the few things he still had on approval, Rick left the apartment and walked into town, to the bus station, and waited for the next bus to Phoenix. He made sure he didn't pass the GMC dealership on his way.