Going Down in La-La Land (35 page)

“
So I guess I messed up big time,” I sighed.

“
You messed up, but by the grace of God you didn’t wind up dead,” Candy said. “Which brings me to another matter.”

I looked at Candy with worn-out eyes.

“
What? Dare I ask?” I said.

“
It was in all this morning’s papers. I could hardly believe it myself. I never bought the paper, but needed something to do while waiting for you to wake up, and I already have every magazine the gift shop sells at home.”

“
What?” I exclaimed flabbergasted. “My falling off the balcony completely inebriated on pills and booze made the paper?” I asked in fear.

“
No not you,” Candy rolled her eyes. “Calm down.”

“
Here,” she said, laying the paper on top of me. “I’m not even going to tell you. I’ll let you read it for yourself. But I have to warn you, it’s upsetting.”

Using my good arm I picked up the paper. The front headline read “Actress Killed in Drug Deal Gone Awry.” The subhead said “Zinnia, one-named starlet who rose to fame in the ’80s stabbed to death in her home.”

Placed underneath was publicity shot from Zinnia in her heyday when she was still a smoldering beauty, before her looks became wrecked with aging and excessive plastic surgery. But what shocked me even more was a mug shot of none other than Dale right beside her. The caption read “Dale Warren, 31, of West Hollywood has been booked and held on a million dollars bail for the stabbing death of Angela Watson, 45, better known as Zinnia.”

“
Holy shit,” I whispered in astonishment. “I don’t believe it.”

“
It was on all the morning news shows too. They had
Good Day LA
on in the waiting room and that’s all they were talking about,” Candy commented.

“
Oh man, Dale,” I said out loud. “How could you do it? What a waste. Oh man,” I repeated in shock.

“
Horrible, isn’t it,” Candy said grimly. “At least we know he won’t be creeping around our place anymore.”

I was in shock. All of a sudden my mind put two and two together and staring at the paper I suddenly remarked, “That was her! That’s who it was!”

“
That was her who? What are you talking about?” Candy questioned.

“
That night Dale and I went to Gleisman’s party,” I recollected. “He stopped to get gas and I answered his cell phone when he got out of the car. A nasty woman’s voice snapped that she had his stuff, not even bothering to make sure it was him. No wonder she seemed so familiar, and it was always creepy to me whenever she was around John. She was supplying Dale with drugs all along.”

“
Wasn’t very careful or discreet about it either,” Candy observed. “Doing transactions in parking lots, not even making sure who she was speaking to on the phone, having crazed addicts in her home.”

“
You know, I think she was just so frustrated, Candy. So bitter she just didn’t care about that any more,” I remarked.

A lump filled up my throat. I felt so guilty, despite all the craziness around me and events happening so fast, maybe there was more I could have done for Dale. He had been so sweet in the beginning, such a great companion.

“
Oh, Candy, I let him down. I totally let the guy down. He had a problem and needed someone to take control of it for him, someone who cared enough. And all I was thinking about was myself, what kind of job I needed and where the next buck was coming from. Turning tricks while a friend was in trouble,” I finished in tears.

“
Hey,” Candy said smoothly, “stop that. You tried to tell him. Look, Adam, I’m sure he was way overboard with his addiction before you ever stepped into the picture. And maybe if hadn’t tried to kill you, you could have done more. But I’m sure a lot of people tried to get him off that stuff, but others can only do so much. You can bring a camel to water but you can’t make them drink.” Then she stopped and asked, “Did I get that saying right?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Anyhow, you’ve gone through so much these past weeks. You need to rest and be good to yourself.”

I had been through a lot. But I made a vow at that point never to become so self-consumed that I couldn’t be of help to someone in my life ever again.

Candy left to get some things done. I was to be discharged within twenty-four hours. All I could think about as I lay in my hospital bed was that through a series of unfortunate circumstances I came to know two people, and now one was dead and the other headed for prison. And one of those people I had cared for at some point. In my short time in LA I witnessed Dale become ravaged and brought down by drugs, and the grisly reality of it left me glum and sober. After my own episode the night before, feeling sober was something I needed at the moment.

Almost two weeks later I wobbled into the clinic to receive the results of my HIV test, still wearing a cast on my wrist. In the lobby I waited anxiously, but in much better form than my first visit. Finally Eduardo came into the room carrying my file, and greeted me in a peppy and sunny disposition. I took it as a good sign.

“
What happened here?” he asked, noticing my cast after trying to shake my right hand.

“
Oh, just a minor accident,” I said, brushing it aside. “I took a spill outside my building.”

“
Nothing serious I hope?” he began leading me down the hallway.

“
Oh no, not at all,” I smiled. “It’s coming off in a few days.”

We both sat down. I took a deep breath. He got right down to business.

“
Okay, Adam, your test results came back negative,” he said, showing me the paperwork and pointing to the word “non-reactive.”

“
Great,” I breathed.

Before leaving Eduardo inquired if I was doing better, and told me to keep practicing safe sex. I left feeling refreshed and renewed, and promised to come back in three months to be sure.

With my hospital bills from the fall wiping out all the money John had given me and the cash I had from Christmas dwindling down to nothing, I would have to find a job very soon. And that was okay. I’d take any job. At a hotel, at a department store, where I could make the bills and pay the rent. It didn’t matter if it was day-to-day drudgery or not the best job in the world, because it wouldn’t be forever.

I was putting together a long-term plan, and it was going to involve going back to school again and starting anew, this time with greater focus. My time in LA taught me some valuable lessons about what I wanted in life. And felt good about the decision to start again, without the sense of wariness that clouded me when coming to Hollywood.

God wasn’t finished with me yet, and I wasn’t finished with myself either.

The e-mail was close to being deleted along with all the other junk mail finding its way to my in-box until I looked more closely. Though I didn’t recognize the address, instead of the usual
GET OUT OF DEBT
or
HORNY TEENS! BARELY LEGAL!
it read
VOYEUR NEW YORK DEBUT.
The whole experience had all but been forgotten among the loads of classes, assignments, and work on my plate. I had already been back in New York more than a year by this time, and couldn’t be happier.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise. I figured the film would have a run in a few artsy movie houses in New York and LA. It made the rounds of quite a few film festivals like Toronto, Berlin, and Sundance before finding a distributor. Perry and Mitch had a whole
Voyeur
Web site created with updates and latest news posted. My name was even listed in the Internet Movie Database, a record of my one true credit as a movie actor. Actually two credits, if I counted
Sect of Lucifer.

What did come as a surprise was when
The Voyeur
experienced a re-cord-breaking run at the Quad Cinema on 13th Street, and went on to play in other major cities and even smaller ones, such as Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale.

Good for them. Those guys deserved it. God knows they put enough blood, sweat, and tears into the project.

Glancing at the movie listings and advertisements in the paper while sipping my morning coffee, I reflected momentarily on whether I would have been able to land an agent if I stuck around LA, now that
The Voyeur
was a success. My conclusion was no. It would take more than a few minutes on screen in a racy role to land even a semi-decent agent.

Not that it mattered much anymore. That was all history. Due to deadlines and a heavy workload, there was no way I was going downtown for the premiere. Besides, I already went to the screening for cast and crew before I left LA, and that was more than enough.

Almost two years have passed since I left Los Angeles. The last few months I spent there were remarkably peaceful and enjoyable. Knowing I’d be leaving soon, I concentrated on the good my surroundings had to offer. I think I went for a hike in the hills or a swim in the West Hollywood Park almost every day.

The decision came to me soon after my release from the hospital. All of a sudden my need to be in the limelight, to feel loved and receive attention and adulation from others had retreated. I was just happy to be alive, and ready for a new direction. My disappointments had beaten away a lot of lingering hang-ups. They were instead being replaced by lessons in humility. My life wasn’t going to be like the lives of those celebrities I had read about with envy and adulation. But there was a whole entire world full of wonder and possibilities outside of the glitter and glamour of Hollywood.

A month after the murder of Zinnia I was asked to take part in an
E! True Hollywood Story
about her and the grisly events surrounding her death. It seemed the producers learned about my association with Dale, probably through Ron, and remembered me being revealed as John Vastelli’s gay assistant. I declined to become involved.

Candy thought I was crazy.

“
What, you are giving up the chance to be on E! Television?” she asked in shock.

“
It’s just not something I care to relive on camera,” I said point-blank. “I’d just come off looking like a queer Kato Kalin anyway.”

The tabloids had tried to get me to sell the story of my love affair with John Vastelli. No matter how bad of a crunch I got in financially, I have yet to broach the topic in public or sell out to the tabloids. Even facing paying off student loans for years to come has not made me succumb to spilling the beans, something I am very proud of. Of course, it’s not out of morals alone. Though I loved the man, I’m no Mother Theresa. It’s just that in order to be free and move on to a successful life I had to make a clean break from the past, or forever be stigmatized as the ex-porn star/secret boyfriend of a famous closet-case star.

Speaking of which, John has managed to keep his sexuality at bay to this day, though rumors still persist and bubble to the surface every now and then. His star keeps rising with Middle America flocking to his family action-adventure movies and tuning into
Life’s Lessons.
I almost have to laugh when I think about it, it’s like “hear no evil, speak no evil, and see no evil.”

He called me once, a few months after my embarrassing suicide attempt. His call came as I was picking up groceries at Pavilions Supermarket.

“
Adam?” I heard a faint voice as a shopping cart crashed next to me.

“
Yeah? Who’s this?” I asked preoccupied with stuffing broccoli stalks into a clingy plastic bag that was anything but accommodating.

“
It’s John,” he said nervously.

My perfect stalks of broccoli I just spent minutes searching for hit the floor.

“
Hey,” I said in shock. “How are you?”

“
Great. Same old thing, working hard, you know how it is. So how have you been?” he gushed. It sounded like he was overcompensating with affection, or maybe suffering from guilt.

“
Better. I’m doing better,” I answered, still stunned.

“
Adam, I’ve missed you. I’ve thought about you so much,” his voice hushed.

“
Same here, John. Me too,” my voice now tinged with regret, laced with a bit of anger.

“
Listen. I want to see you, are you doing anything tonight?” John breathed.

I just stood there.

“
Adam? Are you still there?” John asked with concern.

“
Yeah. I’m here.”

“
So what do you say? Can you come over?” he persisted.

“
John, can I ask you something?” I asked, clearing my throat. “If I see you tonight, will I see you again after that?”

“
I don’t see why not,” John answered.

“
Will it ever be out in public, or just late-night rendezvous like it was when we met? Because if that’s the way it’s going to be, I can’t go back to that, living a covert life where we see each other once in a blue moon. What I feel for you is more. I can get a late-night screw anytime I want.”

“
Babe, we went over this. I just can’t risk it,” John said.

“
And I just can’t go on feeling badly about myself, John. I’ve been through a lot since I got to this town. And I just can’t live like that.”