The Long Way Home

Now on his seventh day in town, Victor had ceased to be amazed by the interior décor of Los Angeles houses. Their sheer nuttiness was outdone only by their expense and by the fact that given the chance, he’d move in to any of them in a second.

This one, contemporary stone, steel and glass, was set in woods, making it totally private; only the roof deck had a view. The house sported what L.A. people referred to as “various water features”—brooks, rills, little cascades, larger waterfalls and several pools, including the first infinity version he’d ever seen up close, as well as a lap pool, two hot tubs and several footbaths. They were all over the house on every level. Filled with hot guys frolicking—either naked or almost so in Speedos.

Since it actually was a business, or at least a publicity, event for some new Disco Diva discovery for Long Meadow Records, the entry and main rooms had the appurtenances of such, at least as Vic had come to know them: a long table set up with copies of her “fabulous new single” as well as an eight-minute, longer version for club deejays to spin, along with photos, bios and such. The Diva herself had already been there and was expected to return and sing a number after she made a surprise appearance at some club on The Strip for a “buncha business types.”

And there Mark was, at the table, dressed in dark slacks, tan and black silk shirt and brown penny loafers. He looked professional. Vic had forgotten how manly, but not how handsome, he was.

Vic and Andy were greeted by their host—wet, not quite dripping, wrapped in a rainbow-colored bathrobe—along with Long Meadow Records’ owner, a feisty little bulldog of a hot Jewish New York number named Hal Dern, who was also dripping but clad in only a Speedo with a two-sizes-too-small guinea A-shirt on top.

Andy took one look at Mark, whom he’d never met before, and said, “Honey, get those clothes off so we can see all your muscles. All of them, I say, child!”

He soon enough vanished arm in arm with the host, while Hal gave Vic a hug.

“The big man!” Hal announced as though there were two hundred and not six other people in the room. “The famous writer! Out in Hollywood making deals!”

“The big record producer!” Vic declaimed back. “The famous Star Maker! Out in Hollywood launching a Diva.”

Having failed to embarrass Vic, Hal left muttering something.

“What’d he say?” Vic had to ask Mark.

“He’s got some single-cut coke in his bedroom.”

“I’ll pass. Did you have any?”

“One line. Hours ago. So!” Mark looked pleased. “You showed up.”

“You doubted?” Vic asked.

“I’d heard you were very busy. Working for some film company.”

“If you call that work. But it looks like you really are working.”

“I’ve got to stand here and greet everyone and offer them a disc and this material.” He handed them to Vic and even put them in a shiny plastic bag for him.

“And you can’t go into the water and show all those muscles, child!” Vic added.

“Not until six. Our flight is at seven-thirty. That gives me about…”

“Three minutes in the water.”

“That’s what I figured.” Mark looked unhappy. “And I arrived yesterday morning on a red-eye. With Her in tow, and I mean in tow given her size and heft. And I was with her or setting this up all the rest of the time.”

“And now you’ve got to go home. Doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“It’s a job,” Mark admitted.

“Where’s Will?” Vic asked.

“Will?”

“Will Traylor?

“I guess back in New York. Why?”

Will had introduced them. Actually, Will had brought Vic to meet Mark one day at the offices of Long Meadow Records, talking about Mark in detailed, adoring, length before and after said meeting.

“Nothing. I just got the impression he was…you two were…”

“Did Will tell you that?” Very sincere and concerned.

“Maybe I just assumed it.”

“Oh?”

Maybe because Will wanted me to assume it? Vic thought. Because Will knows I’d never bird-dog anyone he was dating.

“It’s not important,” Vic said.

“But you came anyway?” Mark asked.

“I thought you’d want support…you know, a familiar face in a strange town…” Vic trailed off.

“You came out of loyalty?”

“I suppose.”

“Not because of ‘the guys?’” Mark pointed inside to where the action allegedly was.

“I just heard about ‘the guys’ while driving over here. Are all the rumors true?” Vic asked.

“How could I tell, stuck here in the foyer?”

[Later,] Vic went into the other room and came back with a vodka tonic for himself and another Gerolsteiner bottled water for Mark.

“Thanks. I am stuck here.”

“I’ll take over if you need a men’s room run. I’ve almost learned your spiel by heart.”

“Very funny.” Mark looked at Vic more seriously. “Look, I know that you’re famous and all. But I’ve never read any of your books.”

“The whippings begin at nine on the dot,” Vic said darkly. “Of course if you read one of my books before then and can pass a simple, hundred-question, true or false quiz, you’re safe.”

“I’m not seeing Will,” Mark said. “Nothing against him. I’m just not.”

“Cool. Okay,” Victor replied and suddenly felt that a door had just wedged open. “My next book is out in three months. Read that one. It’s my best…”