All Balls and Glitter (9 page)

In those days, they often used dancers for catwalk work. Bartuccio’s was an agency as well as a school, and I was lucky enough to land a modelling job soon after I turned seventeen. It was a fabulous gig. Surrounded by gorgeous dancers and models, I travelled for two weeks up and down the east coast of Australia
in a Learjet, modelling the Najee spring/summer collection. A typical day would involve rolling up on the Learjet and slipping into the clothes, then we’d disembark on to a red carpet, model the collection on the runway, get back on the plane, change and travel to the next destination, pose on the tarmac again, and so on. It was really weird.

I was also building on my performance experience. After
Making Music
, I starred in another of Fred Fargher’s revues,
Rockin’ the Town
. Unfortunately, this was where I suffered my first real dance injury.

One of my routines was to ‘Johnny B. Goode’. I would come downstage and do a series of jumps in second position and then drop into the splits. One time when I did the splits, I ripped my hamstrings, completely, and had to limp off stage. The incident was in the local newspaper the next day and BTV6 came round to interview me about it – all publicity orchestrated by Fred to put bums on seats.

There was only a week’s run left, so I still went back on stage. I showcased a ballet piece set to the Neil Diamond classic ‘Love on the Rocks’ – which incidentally was my first ever
pas de deux
– but I couldn’t dance the ‘Johnny B. Goode’ number for the remaining performances.

Naturally, I went to a sports therapist about the injury, but even with the best care available, the setback took me a good nine months to get over.

It seemed a timely moment to accept Mr X’s proposition of travelling the globe. I was seventeen and he was forty-two. He was a nice guy, and remains so. We are still friends, but I wouldn’t ever have described us as lovers because it didn’t feel like that to me.

Because I was under eighteen, Mum had to sign a document to say that it was all right for me to go with him as my guardian. Neither of my parents suspected that anything was going on between Mr X and me at the time. As far as they were concerned, Mr X was taking me overseas because he wanted to show me the
world and demonstrate how talented I would have to be in order to become a dancer.

I knew exactly what I was doing, though. I was a rent boy, I suppose, but it was a means to an end. I saw him in our relationship more as a sugar daddy. I got to see the world and paid for it the only way I could, so I didn’t owe anyone anything.

In September 1982, I left the TV station and Mr X and I set off on our grand adventure.

Our first destination was the UK, where we stayed at his sister’s place in Dorking, Surrey. It was really hot and quite muggy that autumn. I remember being struck by how cheap everything was. You could buy a music cassette for 99p, which was incredible.

The first night we were together, I was a bit nervous. I didn’t fancy him, but I wasn’t dreading it. Boys of seventeen are pretty sexually charged – you’re turned on easily and it’s over relatively quickly! We got through the first time and I thought, ‘That wasn’t too bad.’ There was no kissing, ever, because I wouldn’t let him. All he did was go down on me.

The next day, Mr X took me to London to see
Cats
and I nearly exploded in my seat. Wow! I had never seen anything like it in my life. The singing, the dancing, the flashing eyes, the revolving stage – it was awe-inspiring. I sat, wide-eyed, in the audience, with butterflies whizzing around my stomach.

I couldn’t believe that dancers could move
and
sing so well, that there were such multi-talented performers out there. I knew then that I would have to work really hard to achieve my ambition. It was a vital eye-opener.

‘This is what I want to do,’ I said to myself. ‘One day, I’ll be one of those amazing people.’

The next show we went to see was
Barnum
, starring Michael Crawford, which I also loved. I was having the most unbelievable time, travelling up from Dorking on the train, seeing the sights of London and then watching West End musicals. It was magnificent.

After England, we flew to New York, where we went to the opening night of
Cats
at the Winter Garden Theater. Goldie Hawn was there and I was so excited. The press were shouting, ‘Miss Hawn, Miss Hawn, this way!’ I came down the stairs behind her and there were photographers’ flashes going off all over the place. I absolutely adored it.

After the spectacular show in London, I couldn’t wait to see
Cats
again and the American production seemed much glossier. However, it was our first night in the States and I was so jet-lagged that I fell asleep during the second act and missed most of it.

While we were in the Big Apple, we saw the Broadway version of
Dreamgirls
with the original cast – Jennifer Holliday, Sheryl Lee Ralph and Loretta Devine. Who could have predicted that, twenty years on, I would be dining with Jennifer Holliday at an Angela Lansbury tribute in New York? Life has a funny way of joining up the dots.

Mr X and I stayed at the Hilton, which was more luxurious than anywhere I’d ever been before. It was beautiful. One twilit evening, I decided to go out on the roof and I set the alarm off. Very embarrassing.

While we were there, Mr X would ask me to pose in certain positions or to get down on all fours while he masturbated, but it never progressed any further than that. It was all on my terms and led by me, and he never forced me into anything. I made all my own decisions. He’d request particular things from me and it was entirely up to me as to whether or not I obliged.

Then, one night, he took off and left me. I had no idea where he was. I started planning what I was going to do if he didn’t come back. We had intended to go to Florida and New Orleans, then Las Vegas and San Francisco, and finally to Hawaii, Sydney and Melbourne. I still had my plane ticket, passport and A$300 (£140), kindly donated by my parents. I decided that if Mr X didn’t return, I would go to San Francisco and then home.

Before Mr X had vanished, we hadn’t fallen out as such, but something unspoken had passed between us that had, perhaps, upset him, so I wasn’t sure if he’d gone for good. While I was waiting to find out, I explored New York on my own.

I was quite happy. I’d travelled so much in my life, and changed schools so often, that new places never scared me. Back in the hotel, I had a facial, because I was quite spotty as a teenager, and then I had highlights put in my hair. When Mr X finally reappeared, two days later, I was covered in a rash and had a completely different hairstyle.

‘Where have you been?’ I asked him, more than a little miffed.

‘I needed to get away for a couple of days’ was the only explanation I received.

After that, we went to Florida, where we visited Disney World. By the time we got there, the whole set-up was wearing a bit thin. I just didn’t fancy playing the rent boy any more.

Las Vegas was amazing, though. Walking around, I was totally absorbed because it was all so showbiz, with the flashing lights and the glitz. We played the casinos, and although I was underage, I was tall and could get away with it. I got a real buzz at the tables.

In San Francisco, we rode the cable cars and went to a cinema at a place that was appropriately named Nob Hill. It was a dirty old man’s cinema. I sat in the middle of the seats and refused to do anything. So Mr X went off on his own and did whatever he had to do. Then we left, me none the wiser and him, well, probably satisfied.

Hawaii was our final destination before we were due to go back to Australia. I got so sunburned there, I couldn’t be touched, which was a bonus. Every time Mr X came anywhere near me, I screamed, ‘Don’t touch me! Aaah!’

We still had a good time though. We walked around and strolled on Waikiki Beach, just like in all the movies, but we were winding down and getting ready to go home.

As soon as the plane landed in Melbourne, I saw my family waiting for me. I said goodbye to Mr X and it was all over. That was the last I saw of him for about a year.

I never fancied Mr X. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. I was callous about it and, I can honestly say, totally unaffected by it all.

Mr X was quite a gentle man, very creative, not pushy at all. He was a very genuine and honest guy, but I didn’t feel anything for him. I could switch myself off from the situation completely and it was surprisingly easy. We were travelling for about six weeks and that’s as long as our sexual relationship lasted.

Looking back on it, I suppose it’s slightly odd that a forty-two-year-old man would want to take a seventeen-year-old boy abroad, but I didn’t think of it like that at the time. I just saw it as a way of achieving something, of getting what I wanted. I was quite level-headed and I felt very grown-up. My family never asked me about that side of things and I never told them. They didn’t need to know.

It was strange being a kept man, but Mr X introduced me to quite some life, so it had an inspiring effect. It opened my eyes and that was what the whole trip was about.

By seventeen, I was terribly assertive and knew exactly what I wanted. It was a huge leap from the boy I’d been two years before, but the change happened almost overnight. I don’t recall the actual moment, but it must have been partly influenced by my rapid growth spurt. As soon as I started towering over other people my age, I gained confidence.

But it was the dancing that really did it. At last, I could do something I was good at, that made me feel attractive, and that people liked to watch. I was becoming outstanding at something for the first time. I looked around at others in my peer group and determined, ‘I can dance better than them. I can do this.’

When you find something you’re good at, you don’t want to let it go. I just wanted to get better and better. Becoming a
professional dancer was the ultimate challenge, but I’ve always prided myself on seeing something through to the end. Too many people start this and that, but don’t complete the journey. I think if you set your sights on a goal, you should stay committed to it, however slim the chances of success.

So upon my return from my trip with Mr X, with the
Cats
score still ringing in my ears and the world’s rhythms pounding in my heart, I took the plunge and moved to Melbourne to pursue my daunting ambition.

M
y partner in audacity was Deanne. We met at Janet Brown’s ballet class, and conspired to get together, move to the big city and ‘just do it’, as the slogan says.

The whole experience abroad with Mr X turned me off men for a while, and I started dating Deanne instead. We were the classic young lovers – impetuous, impassioned and full of dreams.

When we first arrived in Melbourne, we weren’t skilled enough to get theatre jobs. We had to find supplementary work during the day and continue our dance training in the evening. That was our big plan.

At the time, my dad was working in the State Emergency Service (SES) in Melbourne during the week, and going home to the house on Ditchfield Road in Ballarat at weekends. He agreed to put us up in his flat, but made it clear that I would have to move back to Ballarat if I didn’t get a job by the weekend. I couldn’t even afford to pay for electricity or anything like that, so I was desperate.

Then I spotted an advert in the paper for a hairdressing apprenticeship. I went to the library and borrowed a book on the subject, which I read before going for the interview. Unbelievably, on the basis of that research, I landed the job. I signed a three-year indenture with the hairdressers, which meant I was contracted to Ulms for Hair in Camberwell and Dzintra, my boss. Deanne started working in the council offices, and we were away.

Convinced my name would one day be in lights, I decided to adopt an assumed name for my hairdressing ‘career’. My family weren’t too pleased about it because, in a moment of madness, I chose my little brother’s name. The real Trent was only about three at the time. With two Trents now in the family, no one was thrilled.

Dad helped us to secure a flat of our own by paying the deposit, as I was earning only A$91 (£42) a week on my apprenticeship. Initially, I worked hard and I was really good at it. But there was a hitch. I had to attend hairdressing school as well as working in the salon, and there was so much initiation involved that I wasn’t getting enough time to dance.

Deanne and I had intended to train in the evenings but, with all that snipping, perm winding and colouring, I could only manage two nights a week. Deanne had more time, but, disappointingly, she was slowly going off the idea of becoming a professional dancer.

At one point, I joined an amateur company in Melbourne and I had to ask Dzintra if that was OK because of my hectic hairdressing schedule. Luckily, she was understanding, and together we came up with the idea of reducing my practical coaching to a Wednesday evening only while I was in rehearsals for the group. I still had to ensure that I kept up with my homework – which entailed practising perm winding on a model head that was checked daily for flaws such as fish hooks, even winding and sectioning – and learning all the technical and scientific side of the business, which was extensive to say the least. On the other weekday evenings, and on Saturdays, I would be free to dance.

The Melbourne am-dram company cast me in a show called
Little Me
, alongside Maggie Kirkpatrick from
Prisoner
. That was a real turning point. It finally proved to me how much I loved performing, and convinced me that I could do it professionally, so I threw my all into my evening training sessions. The problem
was that, as a result, I was showing up at the salon later and later. At one point, I completely overslept and missed about three perms.

It was obvious that my heart wasn’t in hairdressing. Eventually, I rang Dzintra and said, ‘I need to talk to you.’ I asked to be released from my indenture. I had no idea what I was going to do instead, but I knew that I had to move on. Trent 2 was no longer.