I call Jay in Miami to discuss the song-list. He suggests we get cast members to record the 50’s hits. It will be cheaper than paying the original artists.
“Belushi will love that. He auditioned ‘Louie Louie’ for us already. He claims to be a bluesman.”
“Send me his contract. We don’t want to pay him extra to sing.”
“How about Sam Cooke. He’s dead. Will that save us money?”
“Well, he can’t re-record his songs at least. Otis Day & the Knights have refused to do ‘Twistin’ the Night Away.’ We can use the ASCAP version by Sam Cooke. It’ll be cheaper than paying the full band.”
Jay is following the Hollywood tradition of screwing over the bands. Maybe I should cheer Jay for screwing over Otis because he gave in to his homophobic drummer. After we review other songs that Jay will research, he tells me that Mike Sr. wants to speak with me.”
“Hi, Mike,” I pipe up as he comes on the line.
“Tim. Are you coming home at Christmas?”
“I have finals at Harvard next week and a Christmas concert at St Paul’s in Cambridge. I have to go to Iowa for Christmas after that. Maybe I can make the Gables for New Year’s.”
“I’m thinking of putting up the Globe Theater replica for a New Year’s Eve party. The two bands are in disarray after you veered from rock to country this year. They lack leadership with you gone and Michael at the University.”
“Is this is request I can’t refuse, Godfather?”
“Pretty much if you want the band to keep going. And I’m your manager, not the Godfather.”
“Everyone’s growing up.”
“Jay says you’ve taken over the movie production company.”
“Just the music. I actually punched out the Dartmouth writer I told you about. He’s very submissive now.”
“You had to fight someone?”
“We had a boxing match on the ‘Rocky’ set. It was a second round TKO.”
“He isn’t threatening to sue you or the studio?”
“Naw. He’s the one who attacked me. I gave him a choice of boxing or being arrested. He underestimated me.”
“People should learn not to do that.”
“Michael said you’ve found a new kind of rock n roll – anarchy.”
“Like what you use to set off firecrackers?”
“Kinda. It sets the fans on fire.”
“I can hardly wait. I’ll buy extra fire extinguishers.”
My Christmas holiday dance card is filling up. I’m reluctant to abandon my apartment in Hollywood for so long. It makes me want to see Jake. I have to let him down about the movie score. Maybe we can tweak it so it fits our B movie genre.
“Hey, Jake. Miss me?” I get him on the phone.
“I didn’t stop vibrating until the next day when I went to Church.”
“That’ll do it every time.”
“We found a gay Catholic church in West Hollywood.”
“Beware of ex-communication.”
“Sounds like an invitation for dinner.”
“Sounds like you’re getting out and about.”
“My boss’s wife took me there after I brought him home stoned. She had to retrieve his car at work.”
“You make everything an adventure.”
“Well, let’s go out and find some place new. I’ll pick you up about six if you don’t mind riding in the Wreck.”
“Park and come up, before we go out.”
“It’s not an adventure if there’s no excitement.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat if I feel like I did on Saturday night.”
“Let’s see how long you stay hard thinking about tonight?”
“You are a devil.”
Landis finally shows up. I’ve taken about fifteen messages from the Studio, plus several from the legal department, who I told to call Jay in Miami. He seems pretty hung over, or maybe still coming down from yesterday’s pot. I know not to agitate him, lest he have a Miller-style meltdown. I have his coffee ready for him.
“No donut today. You’re having sugar withdrawals. I did put some in your coffee.”
He smiles. I’m a bright spot in his day. He gives me half the messages and tells me to deal with them.
I call everyone back and tell them to attend an end of the day staff meeting. We can work it all out then.
Finally, I have a chance to read some of Miller’s stoner jokes. They are all lame, mostly because no one smoked pot in the 50’s. I write him a note saying that talking about pot is not funny. My advice is he have the jokerster pretend to talk like he is not stoned. I tell Landis I have to leave to see the writers.
Miller isn’t there, but I just want to meet the other writers and get them to work on their own ideas.
“The stoner jokes don’t work because no one in that era smoked.”
“Then, why’d you tell to write them.”
“I was just distracting Miller,” I admit. “I want your ideas, not his.”
“Those are stunts, which are fine. But we need actual humor, like the frat boys making mischief while the float runs amok.”
Miller walks in, barely refraining from scowling at me.
“Remember to run these ideas by yourselves and add laughs wherever you find them.” I walk out as Miller starts interrogating his staff. Maybe I should stop harassing him. But tit for tat is fair payback. I bring Landis his donut with a second cup of coffee. Time to make a lunch run.
“Who are you seeing before lunch?” I ask.
“I need to get rid of the legal guy before I get lunch.”
“What do you want? I’ll bring two portions and you can hash it out over a meal.”
“You chose. Not too sloppy, like Tommy’s. The guy’s a neat freak.”
I call the Formosa and ordered take-out. Greasy Chinese would seem like comfort food to the sanctimonious prick.
I have to drive down the hill to the Formosa in Hollywood. I leave early and put the top down. I stop by Rent-a-Wreck to renew for another week. They offer me an upgrade, but I praise the Wreck too much. They then raise the rate $5 on me. I could have taken the upgrade at the old rate but I’m not about the give up the Wreck. I feel I was beaten on that negotiation. I have to remind myself that I am the All-Hollywood lightweight champ. I am not going to put up with bullying salesmen.
The manager at the Formosa recognizes me as a loyal customer. She asks if I have a head shot I will sign for her. She asks what movie I am doing. When I say it’s ‘Animal House,’ she looks disappointed and gives up on the photo.
“You must like Chinese food,” she notices the three entrees.
“Oh, it’s for the Director and his boss,” I explain.
“Here,” she says, “chose the right fortune cookie for their meeting.”
She had a box with the fortunes described. I chose “You will make a lot of money,” “Fortune smiles on you today,” and “Make up your mind.”
When I get back, Landis has the door shut. I knock and leave the take-out order. They stop talking while I lay out the food. I leave the fortune cookies prominently displayed. I go back to my desk, as they continue their arguments.
The legal eagle finally leaves. I go in to collect the leftovers for my own lunch. Only one cookie has been taken.
“What did your fortune cookie say?”
“I haven’t taken it yet.”
Good. “Good meeting?” I ask.
“Maybe. I have to wait for his decision.”
“I bet he gives in.”
“You were listening?”
“No way. I just know you can convince him.”
“You know what we were arguing about?”
“No idea. I just believe in you.”
About ten minutes later the legal guy calls. Once they speak, Landis comes out.
“You were right. I owe you dinner. Debbie wants to fill you up with health food.”
“I knew you’d win. But I’ve got a date tonight. Health food some other night.”
“You get a rain check. Legal agrees we can go with your guy in Miami.”
“Alright. Let’s see what your fortune cookie says.”
He laughs, ‘Fortune smiles on you today.’
I smile into my carton of Kung Pao Chicken. There’s still sweet & sour pork and mu shu dumplings to finish. I know I’ll need the energy that night. I end up in a bathroom stall, calming my dick down with a quick jerk. I have not jerked off by myself since that night with Pete in Miami when I was 14. It feels so decadent being the chased rather than the predator. If I act chaste, it will make me a tease. I am in for it tonight.
Landis makes a long call to his New York minders. As long as he is on with them, it is safe to call Kurt in Cambridge;
“I’ll be back for finals next week. I’m wrapping up the music deal here. Miller has been demoted. He physically assaulted me and I knocked him out. He’s working on ideas on how to make his script funnier. Landis loves me. His wife asked me to come to dinner tonight.”
“So, you’re back for good? Everyone’s holding their breath here. Jack has promised you’ll perform a Christmas miracle at St. Paul’s.”
“Oh, Jesus,” I moan.
“I’ll deal with Jack. I’m not sure I’m going to give up my spot on the movie. I’ve rented an apartment here.”
“No, Tim. That’s not the deal. You have to come back. You were supposed to find out how important a Harvard education is for you and Jack. I’m not splitting you two up.”
“Of course not. We’ll talk next week. What’s happening at the Lampoon Castle?”
“Parties and Christmas break once exams are over. The highlight of the year was the 100th anniversary issue party you missed. The rumor had it you were strung out in a Hollywood opium den. Jack had to go out and rescue you.”
“I couldn’t have been too strung out if I knocked Miller out.”
“Jack related that story. He thinks you’re coming back for good.”
“Who knows where I’ll land after Christmas. Look for me next week. We need to do a complete debriefing on how it worked out here.”
“Who were you talking to?” Landis sticks his head out.
“Really. You don’t want to be a dropout like me?”
“I thought you never went in the first place?”
“If I don’t go back, it’ll screw up the whole work/study program. Harvard needs my tuition.”
“I’ll bet. What about the case study?”
“I’ll do that once I’m there. My boyfriend believes I’m going to perform a miracle at St Paul’s Christmas pageant.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“What did the Church say?”
“We were banned from working with the kids. They barely agreed to let the boys play in the Christmas pageant.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Can the prop department make me up a bunch of fake golden flakes?”
My day ends soon enough. I am all aflutter about seeing Jake. I go home first to shower and prepare myself to be ravished. I decide that my turn-on for Jake is that I make him feel like a young stud again. I have to hide my growing ageist prejudice, but only to Father Frank. Maybe the young priest at St Viktor’s will have experience in dealing with the sins of the boys from West Hollywood (Boystown). It reminds me that his Dignity group meets the next night. I have to get through the current night before renewing my dignity.
“I found the perfect place for our dinner date,” he announces. “We can go now. You look like a nervous virgin on a high school date. Let’s save the sex for later.”
I must admit I feel relieved.
He jumps into my car. We take Western to Hollywood Blvd. Turning right and going several blocks is a hole in the wall called ‘Mongolian Barbecue.’
“Why are you laughing?” Jake asks.
“Just that our band played barbecue joints in the South. We were drenched in beer and got to pig out on ribs after each show.”
“We drove an old De Soto convertible from Miami to New York City. Maybe that’s why I love the Wreck so much.”
“Well, park in front, so we can keep an eye on it.” It is not a great neighborhood.
The restaurant serves the meals buffet style. The Mongolian lady running the place (who looks Korean) tells us we can eat as much as we want, but if we leave food on our plates, we’ll be charged for uneaten food – very environmentally sustainable for 1976. The chef stands behind a grill and mixes the different slices of beef, pork, lamb and possibly dog with mild to hot sauces plus several veggies: onions, cabbage, peppers, sprouts and things I have no idea what they are.
I stand there salivating as it cooks in front of me. Again, they serve unlimited rice. I wonder if I am becoming a rice queen. One look at Jake disabuses me of that misconception. I go back for three helpings and make sure to clean my plate. Jake eats a normal amount, leaving him to stare at me as I shovel in second and third helpings. His intense staring actually calms me down, knowing he is so enthralled with me. What had been a semi-hard-on all afternoon is fully erect, knowing what is planned for dessert. The Asian lady says we get ginseng ice cream with our meal.
“Good for you know what,” she winks at us.
I pay for us – $12 plus tip – and we jump into the Wreck. I want Jake to snuggle next to me, but he teases me by sliding against the passenger door. We fly up Western to his place. He shows me where to park in the lot. The Wreck is no longer banned to down the street. I refuse to wait for the elevator and we run up the stairs to his fifth floor penthouse. He keeps brushing his fingers against my butt as we climb the stairs. Each time he touches me, I jump and twitch. The tip of my dick is sticking out the top of my jeans. Breathless, I pause on the fourth floor landing and pull Jake into a tight embrace. I can’t stop myself and instantly cum. It goes off all over him.
I hold him in the embrace, feeling his hard-on through our trousers. I am so glad he has better control.
“Let’s see if we can make it into my place before I have to rape you in the stairwell,” as he pulls out of my clutching embrace. He is out of breath, maybe from running up the stairs. I am still panting from the orgasm. He drags me up the final flight of stairs, as I pull at his shirt and pants, trying to undress him.
Inside his door, he turns and opens his arms to allow me to pull off the rest of his clothes. They are a sticky mess, as are my shirt and jeans. We need to be naked, immediately.
He picks me up, carrying me to the bedroom. I can feel him vibrate from need (or, maybe because I’m so heavy from all the meals I recently ate).
I feel like a stud riding a mare. My mind imagines a jockey urging my charge down the homestretch of the Kentucky Derby. I am whipping Jake with an open palm as we both reach the finish line. I go off and collapse on top of him.
He looks at me and shakes his head. What happened to simultaneous orgasms?
Then, he’s in charge. I luxuriate in the love making that keeps going faster and faster. As his breathing becomes ragged and deep moans escape his lips, I’m squealing like a stuck pig. I try not to sound like a little girl, but the pitch keeps getting higher. I try panting to hide my embarrassment. My legs are locked around his waist. I hold his shaking head that says he does not want it to end. I keep kissing him on the lips, finally collapsing back into the bed. We start laughing and laughing, hugging each other. My left leg is over both his legs and my left arm reaches across his chest. The vibrating I experienced after our previous time starts again. I shudder, fearing I am becoming epileptic. Jake holds me and begins vibrating himself. It is like we are bouncing off each other. Finally I shudder once and when the vibrations start again, we are in synch. I start purring like a cat, in time with our vibration. Max would be upset. I laugh.
We can barely talk between the vibrations and shuddering. “What’s so funny?” Jake asks.
“I’m purring like a cat. My dog, Max, would be so upset. He hates cats.”
“Does he chase them?”
“You’re really fucked now.”
“Totally and completely,” I sign to Jace.
“What are you doing?” Jake notices I am not paying attention to him.
“Just imaging Max chasing and catching me.”
“That sounds like bestiality.”
“And you are my stallion, Jake.”
“Okay, but let’s not talk about dogs.”
“We may need to wait a bit,” he admits.
“We’re having sex withdrawals,” I note.
“And I thought I was too old for new experiences.”
“Not when you’re with a teenager.”
“Jesus, Tim. Is this some pedophile guilt trip?”
“I’m not a kid. I’m 18 and have been having sex since I was 14.”
“14? That is a kid.”
“I’m over my issues about that. It was with my 19-year-old cousin. He set me up with several girls to cure me from being gay. When that didn’t stop me from lusting for him, he flew to Miami and we fucked non-stop for a whole weekend. That did it.”
“Is he around? Do I have competition?”
“He’s my favorite cousin. I’ll always love him. He’s 22 now and a junkie. That’s a dick-killer.”
We try cuddling in bed, but between the vibrating and spontaneous shuddering, it’s impossible to get comfortable.
I can barely find my clothes. Jake tries to help dress me. I really am afraid I am becoming epileptic and hold him off. We laugh. I hope I still need him when the vibrating stops.
I kiss him goodbye, but it only makes the vibrating worse.
“Call me tomorrow?” he asks. “I’m worried about you now.”
I barely make it to the Wreck. I sit there trying to compose myself for the drive home. I want to run back upstairs to Jake. The thought of him makes me vibrate and shudder more. Finally I carefully drive home. I am not drunk or high, just fucked out. I run the shower for twenty minutes. I lay down after drying off. The whole room is shaking. Roxy Music runs through my addled brain”
Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I’m thinking of
Oh oh can’t you see
Love is the drug, got a hook in me
Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I’m thinking of
Oh oh can’t you see
Love is the drug for me’
Songwriters: ANDREW MC KAY, BRYAN FERRY
© Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC