“There’s a coffee shop down that block,” Charlie said, resuming his forward march. “We can talk there.”
Over a chai tea and an improbably delicious raspberry/white chocolate chip scone, I told Charlie how I’d come to know Brent and what I’d been doing to track him down.
Charlie listened intently, occasionally sipping his black coffee. “It doesn’t surprise me those bastards at SwordFight weren’t any help,” he observed bitterly. “Brent’s not a real person to them. He’s a thing they made. A product they use and bleed until it runs dry. Then they throw it away.”
“You think they threw Brent away?”
“No. I think they drove him away, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Brent wants to leave SwordFight. He’s had enough of that life. He wants to be with me, and he knows I can’t stand having other men touch him. Not to mention the thousands who are watching. It’s… obscene.
“I love him. I can’t watch him throw himself away like that. He’s over it, too. Too many creepy ‘fans,’ too much exposure to drugs, disease, all kinds of weird shit. It’s not exactly the Disney channel over there.”
“So, what’s the problem?” I asked. “If Brent wants to leave, why doesn’t he just quit?”
“He’s tried. But they have contracts he’s signed and tons of lawyers ready to enforce them. They’ve spent tens of thousands of dollars creating and promoting the product that is ‘Brent Havens.’ They’re not about to let him just walk away.”
“You’re saying that Brent ran away because it was the only way he could get out of making more films.”
Charlie nodded into his coffee.
“But if Brent…”
Charlie’s hands tightened around the cup in his hand. I was afraid he’d crush it. “There is no ‘Brent.’ ‘Brent’ is the thing they made him into. My boyfriend’s name is…”
He stopped himself and looked at me again. Appraisingly. What did he know about me? Could he trust me? I knew that must be what he was thinking.
What had Brent told me his real name was again? Oh, shit, this trust-building exercise wasn’t going to go well if I couldn’t remember. Ralph. Robert.
“Richie,” I said. “Richie’s the man you love.”
Charlie’s grip relaxed. “I think you’re the only person other than me who’s called him that.” He was getting choked up again.
I didn’t want to be mean, but I couldn’t think of a gentler way to put it than this: “If Richie really did leave to be with you, then why isn’t he with you? Or, at least tell you where he is?”
This time, Charlie did squeeze the cup hard enough to cause an overflow. The steaming coffee ran hotter than blood over his fingers without his noticing.
“I don’t know,” he almost wailed. “That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. Unless he’s afraid they’d send their lawyers after me. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, don’t they subpoena people in cases like this? I think Richie is protecting me. When their jackals come after me, I’ll be able to tell the truth-I really don’t know where he is. Then, when this all blows over, Richie can come back.”
He looked at me with such need that it was as if he were standing before me naked. “That’s it, don’t you think?”
Um, no. Nothing about that seemed very likely. For one thing, while it was true that Brent was conflicted about having to choose between Charlie and his job, at least as far as I’d last heard, it wasn’t the job he was planning to leave. No, it was big old Charlie who was going to get the heave-ho. Not that I had the heart to tell him that.
Even if Brent had reversed course on that decision, I still couldn’t see why he’d feel the need to disappear- especially from the man he loved. Assuming SwordFight did have enforceable contracts against Brent, what would they sue him for? It wasn’t like Brent was a millionaire. It would probably cost them more to take him to court than they’d recover. Not to mention all the bad press.
Lastly, there was the question of whatever dirt Brent had on SwordFight. I never got the details as to what it was, but Brent implied the information was so damning it could bring down the company. Which meant they had more to fear from him than he from them. If he really wanted his freedom from SwordFight, why wouldn’t he strike a deal? He seemed like a smart kid to me.
More likely, Brent got tired of everything. Charlie included. So, he ran away.
Only problem with that theory was that, sitting across from Charlie, it wasn’t that easy to believe Brent would do that to him. First, Charlie was terrifically attractive, seemed as sweet as the scone I’d just inhaled at an alarming rate, and was obviously head over heels for Brent. He’d be a hard guy to give up.
Second, even if that were Brent’s decision, just disappearing into the night would be an awfully cruel thing to do to a softie like Charlie. Brent had to know that. I did, and I’d only spent an hour with him. Did Brent have a mean streak like that in him?
I didn’t know Brent much better than I knew Charlie. But I didn’t think so.
Meanwhile, Charlie the gentle giant was looking at me for an answer.
“You could be right,” I said. “I mean, everything you say makes a kind of sense. It’s certainly… plausible.” For a moment, I flashed back to Andrew saying something similar to my mother this morning when she presented her nutso plan to investigate the adoption agency. Was this some sort of holiday when you had to humor demented ideas?
Charlie looked so happy to hear me agree with him, despite all my qualifiers, I thought he might cry again- this time from relief.
“Where would he be hiding, though?” I asked Charlie. “Did you know his folks? Have you tried calling them?”
Charlie shook his head. Calmer now, he noticed the cooling coffee on his fingers and absently wiped it away with a napkin while talking. “I wouldn’t have a way to contact them even if I thought it would help. But it wouldn’t.
“Brent was estranged from his family. He told me his father kicked him out of the house when he found out he was gay. He hadn’t had any contact with his parents in years.”
This was 2012. It was hard to believe that kind of thing still happened. What was wrong with people? I’d thought of Brent as a Lost Boy; now I realized he’d been driven away. From his family, at least.
“Brothers? Sisters?” I asked.
“He talked about an older sister. I think he had some contact with her, but he never went into details.”
“Maybe I should try them anyway.”
“Good luck. I don’t have their number, and Richie never told me his real last name. He said he wanted to leave all that behind him.”
This was going nowhere. Time to face the uglier possibilities.
“I totally see your point about Brent lying low to avoid legal problems,” I began. Charlie’s lips curled up. I knew how reassured he was that someone else believed that not only was Brent safe, but that he’d gotten out of the porn industry and was willing to go to so much trouble for him. “But we have to consider other scenarios. The… less pleasant ones.”
Once again, I’d managed to slap the happy right off Charlie’s face.
“What do you mean?” he asked, scowling.
“Well, what if something happened to Br… Richie? Was there anyone who wanted to hurt him?”
“Physically?”
“Maybe.”
Charlie’s jaw worked back and forth. “No. Well, I don’t know. The guys from SwordFight? I mean, I assume Richie was afraid of them going after him legally, but what if they beat him up or something? On TV, those kinds of businesses are always associated with the mob, right?”
“I don’t know much about it. Maybe. What about a fan? Was there someone who showed too much interest? Or made Richie uncomfortable?” I realized I was also describing what sounded like an episode of CSI.
“Well, yeah. There were always lots of guys approaching him. A few were creepy, but just in that way like they knew something about him that they didn’t, you know? Like, because in a movie he played a kid who liked sex with older men, he must be interested in their ancient ass, right?”
