Sex and Violence in Hollywood (38 page)

A noise blurted through Adam’s lips. It could just as easily have been a laugh as a sob. His emotions suddenly felt so external and out of his control, he was not sure which one might go off next.

“Your dad would be happy to know you at least have an interest. Let me know if you want me to set up a meeting with Barry.”

Adam nodded once.

Rog checked his watch, gulped down the rest of his iced tea. “Gotta fly. Look, Adam, I’m not saying you’re broke, but you need to make some adjustments to avoid it in the future.” He stood, put on silver-rimmed sunglasses. “Give it some thought, okay? I’ll come around next week, we’ll grab lunch, talk about it some more.”

Adam nodded, said, “Okay.” But he did not stand.

“You feeling okay? You look a little...I don’t know.” He frowned. “Have you lost weight?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“You want to see someone? I’ll make an appointment for you right now.” He reached beneath his suit coat and produced a tiny tortoise-shell cellphone.

“No. I’ll be okay”

Rog replaced the cellphone reluctantly. “You know you can call if you need anything, anytime. Okay?”

Adam nodded. “Thanks, Rog.”

When he was gone, Adam went into the poolhouse. In the bathroom, he closed and locked the door, sat on the toilet seat. Planted elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands. He waited, expecting tears, sobs. But they did not come. The only release he could give the searing rush of emotional pain that had come so dangerously close to the surface in Rog’s presence was a long, agonized groan.

THIRTY-SEVEN

On Wednesday,
Alyssa and Brett decided they had to go to Disneyland. Brett had never been, and Alyssa’s last visit had been nine years ago. Adam was not fond of the idea, and Carter said he would rather someone rip open his chest and spoonfeed him bites of his own lungs. Adam did not like amusement parks, Carter hated crowds. But the girls insisted, so they went. Adam, Carter, and Brett shared a joint before leaving, and Alyssa drove the Mercedes.

Another hot day, still no sign of sun or sky. The air was moist and clinging. The happiest place on earth was bloated and quivering with tourists from all over the world who had paid forty bucks a head for ages twelve and up, thirty for children between three and eleven, to be dazzled, amazed, distracted from the smothering banality of their lives. The park crawled with pale white skin, lumpy with fat, revealed by Bermuda shorts and Mickey Mouse tank tops. Everywhere, children cried and screamed and laughed and shrieked, fought with each other and whined and shouted at their parents. People who probably insisted they were actors wandered around the park in bizarre costumes, posing as giant misshapen animals and cartoon people with oversized heads and terrifying expressions of glee frozen on their huge faces. Babies and toddlers wailed in horror at the sight of them, but they pressed on, skipping and dancing their way through the park from child to child.

For a while, Donald Duck followed them around playfully, tried to make them laugh.

“I think he’s creepy,” Alyssa said.

Brett added, “I think they’re all creepy.”

Finally, Carter turned to the duck and shouted, “Hey! Did you just grab my ass? You did! What kind of pervert are you, anyway? Huh? Jeez, get away from me, you sick duck!”

Donald avoided them for the rest of the day.

Their favorite attractions were the Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean. Lines were long but moved fast, and they managed to go through each twice. The second time through the Haunted Mansion, Alyssa slipped her hand into Adam’s shorts and stroked his cock as they kissed. He made her stop so he would not come all over himself.

Beneath the cool bluish glow of artificial moonlight in the Blue Bayou Restaurant, they ate Monte Cristo sandwiches that oozed grease. Across the bayou, ersatz fireflies flittered between the tall weeds and sad branches of weeping willows, while boats from Pirates of the Caribbean floated quietly by.

“We haven’t been to Tomorrowland yet,” Brett said over lunch. “I want to go on Space Mountain.”

Carter laughed. “Better not eat too much, Adam.”

Alyssa turned to him. “You get sick on roller coasters?”

“No, not sick,” Adam said. “I just don’t enjoy them.”

“How can you not enjoy roller coasters?” Brett asked. “They’re so much fun!”

“I don’t like being thrown around that way by a big metal...thing. At those speeds. I don’t trust them. You never know when it’ll jump its tracks and fly through the air like a missile full of people.”

“That doesn’t happen,” Brett said, annoyed.

Adam asked, “Can you prove that?”

“Can you prove it does?” she said.

“I asked first.”

Alyssa leaned close. “But you’ll go with me, won’t you?”

Thus began the campaign to coax Adam into joining them on Space Mountain. It went on through a second visit to Pirates of the Caribbean. Continued in Fantasyland, where they took Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Peter Pan’s Flight, and Pinocchio’s Daring Journey. But it was not their persistence that made Adam give in. It was the nightmarish indoor boat ride, “It’s a Small World.” The treacly song played over and over and over while, on colorful platforms, dolls and stuffed animals wearing traditional clothes from every corner of the earth moved demonically all around them. The dolls reached out stubby arms, flailed them up and down, back and forth, as if hexing them, faces wide with happy evil. Delightedly possessed toys from Hell’s closet. It was more than a ride, it was a cheerful torture. A battering ram to the psyche. Sharp fingernails dragging over the surface of a chalk board, but on an epic scale. It broke Adam down, fractured his will. Crushed his spirit.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll go. I’ll hate it, and I’ll probably shit my pants, but I’ll go. And if I do shit my pants, I don’t want to hear one word about it.”

The walk to Tomorrowland was filled with dread for Adam. His first roller coaster ride had been there at Disneyland, when he was six or so. The Matterhorn. His gut had twisted the moment he laid eyes on the ugly artificial mountain that towered over Fantasyland. He had told his parents he did not want to go on the ride, and his dad had become angry. He had ridiculed Adam while they waited in line, called him a pussy and a coward. By the time they reached the gate, Michael Julian had told his son he would have to wait for them while they went on the ride, alone and unwatched, so any pervert who came along could just run off with him, and they might never see him again, so if he had anything to say, he had better be quick about it. Afraid of being left alone, Adam had gone with them. The ride had paralyzed him with fear, but he was able to scream, and he had. Continuously, until the ride was over. His dad had tormented him about it all the way home.

Why didn’t Mom stop him? Adam wondered. He examined his memory of that day and had no doubt that she had been there. Michael would not have taken him to Disneyland alone. Adam remembered seeing reflections of his own crying face in the lenses of his mom’s huge round sunglasses after riding the Matterhorn. But he couldn’t remember her comforting him, or intervening when his dad had so relentlessly teased him.

Space Mountain rocketed them through darkness at a frightening speed. Stars shone all around them, creating the illusion they were shooting through space. Each seat in the train was equipped with its own computerized sound system that played a futuristic soundtrack synchronized with every twist, turn, and nauseating drop of the ride. Adam had hoped the darkness would help by not letting him see anything. But if possible, it made the ride worse. Others on the train laughed and squealed, delighted by the speed with which they whipped sharply, corkscrewed, plummeted. Adam pressed his lips together, ground his teeth, tried to keep from screaming. It did not work.

He was not certain at what point he started screaming. Nor was he certain when his scream had unexpectedly became a long, pained wail. Tears blew from his face as they spilled. A burning sensation worked its way up from his chest to his throat as the wailing sound he made collapsed into a fit of sobs. Adam cried harder than ever before. With his tears came a pain he had not known was there, buried deep in the ground of his soul. It rose from its grave a ravenous ghoul and savagely clawed and ate its way through him.

The moment it began to subside, Adam wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands, took long, deep breaths. Calmed himself in time for the ride’s end.

No one had noticed. None of them knew he had broken down during the ride. In keeping with his wishes, they did not say a word about Adam’s puffy red face when they left Space Mountain.

* * *

Late the following day, Adam drove them all the way to the southern end of the San Gabriel Valley in the convertible to see a double feature at one of the few drive-in theaters still operating in southern California. Or in the entire country, for that matter. Fewer than a dozen cars faced the screen. No one was interested in seeing movies outdoors anymore. Adam figured it would not be long before this drive-in closed as well.

They had not checked to see what was showing before leaving Carter’s house. Two action pictures were running for the week. Bad ones. The first starred Jean Claude Van Damme, the second Steven Segal. They spent more time making out than watching the movies. When they did watch, Adam and Carter kept up a running commentary of vulgar criticism, mocking the accents and performances of the two muscular stars.

It was almost three-thirty in the morning when they got back to Carter’s house. Adam felt as if the smoggy air had stuck to his skin and hair like viscous sewage, so he took a shower. He intended it to be a quick one, but the hot water felt so good, he lingered, eyes closed. Enjoyed the sensation. Let it loosen, if not untie, some of his knots.

As he rinsed his hair, Adam felt something touch his sides. He looked down to see two delicate, feminine hands sliding across his belly from behind.

Rain, Adam thought.

He pulled away from the hands with a jagged scream, tried to spin around. His feet went in different directions. The shower tilted and his ass hit the floor with a loud thunk.

Sucking in gasps of air, Adam’s eyes moved up the bare legs that stood before him, over the flat belly, full breasts, past the graceful shoulders and neck. Alyssa’s hands pressed over her mouth.

“Adam, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He got up, took her in his arms, held her tight. “No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry. For scaring you.”

Alyssa turned off the water, took his hand and led him out of the shower. She tried to dry him with a towel, but their kisses got in the way. They were still wet when they got into bed. Alyssa closed her hand on his erection, guided him into her. They finished quickly, but did not stop.

Dawn was beginning to warm the sky when they finally became still. Adam watched Alyssa for a while, wondered if he could ever express all the affection he felt for her. He spoke rapidly in a whisper as he held her close.

“My dad’s attorney says I need to sell the house, but I’ll be able to get a nice place anywhere I want, and I want you to come live with me. We’ll get out of L.A. and live...I don’t know, maybe by a lake someplace, or by the ocean. Anywhere we want. I don’t care where it is as long as it’s not here and we’re together. I love you so much, Alyssa, I could explode. I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t met you, if you weren’t here with me, I’d probably—”

“Shh, shh.” She cuddled against him with a sleepy smile and made a small contented sound in her throat. “There’s no rush, Adam. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry. We’ve got all the time in the world for our plans.”

Perhaps they did. Adam relaxed beside her, realized how tired he was. Alyssa was asleep in less than a minute. Her breath purred through lightly closed lips each time she exhaled. Adam slowly drifted off, happier than he could remember ever being. Feeling as if nothing could possibly go wrong in his life.

* * *

Adam awoke at eight minutes before eleven the next morning, alone in bed. He felt rested and was grateful he had been allowed to sleep. He had fallen into the routine of starting each day by turning on the radio and checking online for news. But the sounds of laughter and splashing that came from the open window to the right of his bed made the news seem even more unappealing than usual. He hadn’t seen or read anything to cause him even the smallest concern up to that point. The feeling of urgency with which he had been waking each day had dissipated, and he decided to put off his search until after he had gotten something to eat.

He got up and went to the window. Saw Carter and Brett playing around in the pool. Carter was actually playing, splashing around with Brett like a little kid. It made Adam smile. Alyssa sat at the white table beneath the blue umbrella, reading a paperback and looking creamy in a black bikini. The sky was a chalky blue, clearer than it had been in weeks, although a thin yellowish layer of smog remained. The sun shone harshly, and Adam could feel the heat of the day through the window’s screen.

He put on a pair of black swimming trunks and went downstairs. Down the hall to the French doors that opened on the patio. He ran by Alyssa and jumped into the pool, folding himself midair into a cannonball. His unexpected splash made Brett scream.