happy little narcissist he is, assumes Lucas is reacting to his attractiveness and star-status. He takes charge. He seduces the confused, overwhelmed, and somewhat stoned Lucas right there, on camera, before Lucas has a moment to sort out his feelings.”
Knowing that background, the chemistry between the two of them, the impression Freddy and I had watching that scene that whatever was going on between them transcended mere sex, made a lot more sense.
“Are you saying Brent raped Lucas? Took advantage of him in some way?” Freddy asked.
“No, of course not. Lucas was a more-than-willing participant. Brent had no way of knowing Lucas was a mixed-up, overmedicated mess deep enough into drugs and depression to fall into a fantasy that confused his feelings toward his brother with Brent. Brent assumed Lucas’s reactions were strictly sexual. It turned him on to think he had that kind of power over the big stud.”
“It would turn me on, too,” Freddy threw in.
“Shocker. In any case, after the scene was over, Lucas got more and more obsessed with Brent. He told me a part of him knew what he was thinking was insane, but another part of him couldn’t shake the sense that, somehow, Brent was his salvation. Sent to him by God as a second chance with his brother. But this time, one he could rescue and protect.
“A Lost Boy he could save.”
“That,” Freddy observed, “is heavy.”
“Kind of like your ass is going to be if you eat one more thing,” I couldn’t resist pointing out.
Freddy stuck his tongue out at me and then used it to lick his bowl of ice cream.
“Could you be any more disgusting?” I asked, wishing I didn’t notice how long and flexible that tongue was. I wondered if the sexual tension between Freddy and I would ever totally die out, or if it’d always lurk in the background like a Peeping Tom outside his neighbor’s window.
“Absolutely,” Freddy promised. “Wanna see?”
“Yeah, no,” I assured him. “Today’s been depressing enough.”
“What I don’t understand,” Freddy said, “is why Lucas didn’t try and track Brent down? If he loved him so much.”
“After Lucas left SwordFight, he went to work for lower-rent production companies. He also got into heavier drugs, reckless partying, a real downward spiral. He eventually wound up in rehab and got off all the shit he was putting into his system. He says he also got a lot of counseling and insight into his ‘issues.’
“Brent heard through the grapevine about Lucas’s troubles and that he’d entered treatment. He was sympathetic. He even felt partly responsible-after all, he was the one who complained to Mason about Lucas’s ‘stalking’ of him.
“Brent wanted to leave SwordFight. I’m not clear why. But he felt the company had a legal hold on him. He was worried they’d sue his ass into oblivion if he didn’t continue making movies.
“The only person he knew who’d left the company was Lucas. Having heard that Lucas cleaned up his act, Brent felt there was enough water under the bridge to call him for advice. That part didn’t turn out to be too helpful. While Lucas had signed up with a competing production company behind Mason’s back, Mason wasn’t sorry to see him go. By that point, Lucas was looking strung out from his drug use and his behavior was increasingly bizarre. So, unless Brent was willing to either fake or actually have a breakdown, both of them doubted Mason would be as forgiving about his leaving.
“While that wasn’t good news, as far as Lucas was concerned, the reunion was a success. Now that he was sober and had some insight into his behavior, he told Brent why he’d acted so weird when they first met. Brent was really touched. He was also relieved-he’d always found Lucas attractive. Now that he knew Lucas wasn’t crazy, he felt a lot freer to act on it.
“So, they began an affair. Maybe even fell in love. Certainly, Lucas did. But a week before Brent dropped out of sight, he told Lucas he ‘needed a break.’ He felt bad seeing Lucas behind Charlie’s back. He said he needed time to make a choice. But he couldn’t do that while he was sleeping with Lucas-he was afraid the guilt he felt was sabotaging any chance they had for building a good relationship.
“Hmm,” Freddy observed. “The old ‘I have to stop seeing you so I can keep seeing you’ line. I may have used that once or a hundred times when I wanted to dump someone.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Well, maybe not that much. I mean, you know me. It’s not like I ever did the ‘dating thing.’ More of a ‘one night stand’ kind of guy. Or, ‘one nooner.’ Or, ‘that morning in a crowded subway car when the lights went out and-’ ”
“I get it, I get it,” I said. We could have been there all night.
“Fine,” Freddy said testily. “I’ll skip over the hot-air balloon, the opening-night line for the last Twilight movie, and the various Jehovah’s Witnesses and Mormon missionaries who showed up at my door thinking they’d convert me.”
I circled my hand in the universal gesture for Get on with it.
“My point,” Freddy said, well, pointedly, “is just because I knew I wasn’t interested in anything serious didn’t mean they knew that. So, one learns to be diplomatic, darling.”
“Maybe you’re right and Brent was trying to let Lucas down easy. But Lucas didn’t think so. He thought Brent would choose him.”
“Ah,” Freddy said wistfully, “they always do, the dear things.”
“He was beginning to lose faith, though. Before the ‘time-out, ’ they were constantly in touch. Texting, on the phone. Brent’s director, Kristen, told me he’d seen Brent on the set making private phone calls-turns out he was right. Kristen thought the calls were to another production company, though, not another lover.
“When Brent said he needed some space, Lucas assumed it’d be a week or three. As it stretched into months, he became increasingly worried. Not that anything had happened to Brent, mind you. More that maybe Brent hadn’t chosen him after all.”
“Why didn’t Lucas just call him?”
“He promised not to. He’d already made the mistake of pursuing Brent too aggressively the first time around. He even thought Brent’s not calling might be some kind of test.”
“Lucas could have made the whole thing up,” Freddy offered, raising his hand to call over the cute waiter. The dark-haired, dark-eyed Latino was taking an order at an adjacent table. The waiter held up his index finger. One moment.
“Maybe he never did get back together with Brent. It could have been another of his fantasies.”
“No, I don’t think so. Besides, Lucas knew something about Brent that I’d asked everyone and nobody could answer. Not even Charlie.”
“What was that?”
“His real last name. Richie’s last name. Dawson. He even had the phone number and address of Richie’s parents in Queens. Look.”
I took out from my backpack a picture of Brent’s that Lucas had given to me. It showed Brent, a girl a few years older than him, and his parents at Disney World, the four of them smiling like every other family smiles when you point a camera at them in Disney World. Brent looked like he was nine or ten at the time.
On the back, Brent had written his parents’ names and all their contact information. He also wrote a note:
Dear Mom and Dad,
If you ever get this, know that I forgive you. I will always love you.
Your son,
Richie
“Why would Brent have given this to Lucas? Why not just send it to them himself?”
“That part’s weird…” I began.
“Yeah,” Freddy said. “Thank god the story’s finally getting weird. Because the whole porn-star-hooked-on- drugs-and-sleeping-with-a-guy-wh o-just-happens-to-look-like-his-brother part was so wholesome I was getting bored.” He glared at the waiter, who gave an apologetic shrug and repeated his earlier gesture.
“I’m about to give him a finger, too,” Fred growled. “But a different one. Sorry, darling. You were saying…”
“Lucas said that for a few weeks before Brent’s disappearance, Brent seemed distracted. Moody. A little
