put his hands on his hips. “It takes one to know one, cunt.”
Radcliff smirked. “Actually, you look rather well for just being released from the
nut house.”
Cody glared in his direction. “It wasn’t a nut house,” he said. “It was a rehab for
people with addictions. There’s a difference. But I guess you wouldn’t know, Grandma.
Back in your day they only had nut houses and you got there by horse and buggy.”
“Ha,” Radcliff shouted, “back in
my
day, doll, they would have locked you up in
the nut house for good, clipped your horns, and thrown away the key.”
Cody bit his bottom lip and thought for a moment. He smiled and said, “Sorry
about the bad reviews you’re getting. If you’d like, you can stop by and watch me
rehearse for my show. You might pick up a few valuable things while you’re there.”
“The reviews weren’t bad. They just weren’t great. And the only thing I could
pick up from you are crabs,” Radcliff said.
Cody smiled. “You’re just jealous because I don’t have to pay escorts and whores
to come home with me.”
“And that’s because you
are
a whore,” Radcliff said. He took a drag from his
cigarette and tossed his head back.
“And you’re a dried-up old queen who doesn’t know when to stop,” Cody said.
Radcliff turned and looked Cody in the eye. He dropped his ash in the sink with
one fast tap. “You wanna play, doll?” he said. “I’ll take you on. But you’d better be
prepared. I’ve come across your type many times before. I buried them all, and I can bury
you. You’re nothing but a drugged-up little fake, trying as hard as you can to hold on to what little you have. I’ve been in this business for thirty years and I’ll be in it for thirty
more, long after they’ve found you dead in some sleazy motel room from an overdose.
I’ve got what it takes to survive. I’m tougher and stronger than you’ll ever be, doll.” The
butch, fake-masculine tone he used in public had disappeared. Now his voice had the
authentic, effeminate quality he only used around close friends.
Blood rushed to Cody’s head and he clenched his fists. He lunged forward and
grabbed Radcliff’s shoulders. “You’re nothing but a washed-up, self-loathing old queen
who never had the guts to come out of the closet.” He shook Radcliff a few times. “You
think they don’t know you’re an old queen. Do you really think the world thinks you’re a
bachelor
? Give me a fucking break. No one even uses that word anymore. Who the fuck
do you think you’ve been fooling all these years? At least I’ve always had the guts to be
openly gay, and to show the world who I am. I may be many things, but at least I’ve
always been authentic. And there are other gay men out there who appreciate it.”
Radcliff pushed Cody hard. Cody fell back and landed on the bathroom floor.
“Doll,” Radcliff said, “you’re not even worth my time. You’re nothing but trash. Go back
to the gutter where you belong, then get down on your knees and do what you do best.”
But Cody stood up fast. He lunged again and pulled Radcliff to the bathroom
floor. They rolled around for a few minutes, pulling and tugging each other. At one point,
a bottle of dudes fell out of Cody’s upper pocket. Radcliff reached for them fast and held
them above Cody’s head. He smiled and said, “Look what I just found. I guess they
didn’t do such a great job in the nut house after all. I knew you’d never stop taking these.
Once a drug addict, always a drug addict. You’ll wind up just like that other friend they
found dead in a hotel room in San Francisco.” Cody reached for the pills and said, “Give them back. I’m not taking them. I just
like to have them with me.”
But Radcliff’s arm was longer; he held the pill bottle up higher. “I’m going out
there right now and I’m going to tell the entire press party what just fell out of your
pocket. I’m sure they’ll just love this.”
Then Cody reached for the top of Radcliff’s head and pulled his hair. But when
he pulled, Radcliff’s hair came off in his hand.
They both stopped moving and stared at each other. Then Cody looked down at
the wig he was holding; he looked up at Radcliff’s bald head. Cody stood up slowly and
laughed. He shook the wig up and down and shouted, “You’re fucking
bald
. I had no
idea! And if you think they’ll love hearing about my pills, wait until they see your shiny
old head, Grandma.”
Radcliff stood up and crossed toward him. “Give me that,” he shouted. “Give it
back to me now.” He was out of breath, still holding the bottle of dudes.
Cody smiled and shook the wig again, then ran into a bathroom stall and said,
“Come and get it, Grandma, before I flush your entire career right down the toilet.”
Cody heard Radcliff run after him. But Radcliff didn’t say anything. After a
moment of silence, Cody opened the door of the stall. Radcliff was leaning back against a
wall and the bottle of dudes was on the floor next to his feet. He was holding his bald
head in his hands and his chest was heaving. Cody dropped the wig on the bathroom floor
and picked up the pills. He took a deep breath and said, “There you go. Now we’re even,
Grandma.” Then Cody walked toward the bathroom door and adjusted his costume. He
quickly looked into the mirror and made sure his thong was riding up the middle of his
ass correctly. He looked back and saw Radcliff bend down to pick up the wig. Radcliff’s
knees were stiff and his face was red. Cody rolled his eyes a few times and opened the
door. When he stepped into the banquet room again, he smiled as wide as he could and
headed back to where Lance and Bart were standing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
On opening night, Cody got out of the limo at the stage door entrance and slowly
walked to his dressing room. Everyone else in the theater was rushing around, shouting
about last-minute details that were important to the show. The assistant director’s face
was red and there were beads of perspiration dripping down his temples. The director was
explaining something to the choreographer, waving his hands back and forth above his
head, with sudden, urgent jerks. Cody passed them by and smiled. He took a deep breath
and waved to the music director. He had been taking dudes all day. He’d popped three
into his mouth on the way to the theater and he couldn’t even feel the bottoms of his feet
anymore.
He told himself he had everything under control. He was only taking the pills
because it was opening night and he wanted to be as relaxed as possible. But when he
passed by a rehearsal room and heard his understudy singing one of his songs, he stopped
short to listen. He tightened his fists, and his heart began to pound in his ears. The
understudy was a polite young man in his early twenties with dark brown hair, smooth
even skin, and wide blue eyes. He reminded Cody of Rush, with that natural innocence
that was impossible to obtain; one had to be born with it. When he entered a room,
everyone looked to see who he was. When he sang, his deep, sexy voice had perfect pitch
and perfect control. There was no doubt his understudy had innate talent, and that he
knew what to do with it. Cody watched the understudy sing while his stomach twisted in knots and his
head throbbed. Cody didn’t like that he was rehearsing this way in front of everyone on
opening night. It looked like he was trying to make Cody look inferior.
So Cody stormed off to his dressing room and poured himself a tall glass of vodka.
By the time Lance came backstage to offer Cody his support, Cody couldn’t even stand
up straight. The show was about to begin and he wasn’t even in costume yet.
Lance stared at him. His face turned pale and he said, “You’d better get ready.
You only have five minutes.”
Cody waved his arm and said, “I have plenty of time. I know what I’m doing. I’m
a star.” His words slurred together and his T’s sounded like S’s.
Lance shouted into the hallway, “Get me a pot of black coffee. Now.” Then he
turned back to Cody and shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Cody. This isn’t what I
want, and it’s not the way I want to spend my life.”
Cody, drunk as he was, shot Lance a dead stare and said, “Then you’d better stop
fucking around and find a nice quiet guy to settle down with, Lance. You’re not getting
any younger.”
Lance frowned. “Let’s just get some coffee in you.”
Cody stood up and crossed to the doorway where Lance was standing. But before
he got there, he tripped and fell over his own feet. When he landed on the floor, Lance
dropped his coat and reached down to help him up.
“Let go of me,” Cody shouted. “I’m fine. I can get up on my own. I just wasn’t
looking where I was going.” He tried to get up twice, but he kept falling back down on his face. Lance finally
leaned forward, put his hands beneath Cody’s arms, and pulled him up to his feet.
When Cody was standing, he pointed to Lance and said, “I want him fired. If you
don’t fire him, I’m not going on tonight.”
Lance spread his arms apart and shrugged. “What are you talking about?”
“The understudy,” Cody said. “I want him fired. I’m not going on stage if he’s in
the theater. He’s trying to steal my part, and I won’t have it. I’m the star.”
Lance closed his eyes and shook his head. Before he had a chance to reply, one of
the assistants brought a full pot of coffee and placed it on Cody’s dressing table.
Cody shouted, “I don’t want any fucking coffee, damn it.” Then he tried to swing
at the coffee pot on the dressing table and missed so hard he fell down again.
By that time, the director and the producer were standing in the doorway. The
director shook his head at Lance, and the producer looked down at Cody and frowned.
Cody was on the floor, crawling around, trying hard to get up on his own, but it looked as
if he were moving in slow motion.
“He’ll be fine,” Lance said. “I’ll get some coffee into him. Can we delay the show
for a few minutes?”
The director shook his head. “He can’t perform this way. He’s too far gone.”
Cody was listening. He stood up and went to the door. He leaned into the frame
and said, “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me.” The entire world felt as if it were
spinning. He saw the director standing next to someone; Lance was holding his elbow. At
first, he couldn’t make out the person standing next to the director, then he realized it was the understudy. The ambitious little fucker must have been waiting for him to make a
mistake. Cody shouted, “I’m fine. I’ll get into costume right now.”
The director ignored him. He turned to the understudy and asked, “Can you do the
show? Are you prepared?”
The understudy jumped forward. He smiled and said, “I’m ready. I’ve been
watching and rehearsing this part for weeks just in case something happened.” Then he
gave Cody a quick look and smiled. The expression on his handsome young face was a
combination of gloating and satisfaction. To the others, he looked eager and innocent.
But Cody knew what he was doing.
When Cody saw the understudy smile, he lunged forward and wrapped his hands
around the understudy’s throat. “Oh no, you don’t, sweetie,” he shouted. “No one is
taking my part away from me.”
Both Lance and the director had to pull Cody away from him. While Lance held
Cody, the director shouted to the understudy, “Go into his dressing room and get into
costume.” Then he shot Lance a look and said, “Lock this one up until the show is over.
He can sleep it off. We’ll come back for him when the show is over.”
Lance took Cody to an empty dressing room in the back of the theater. Cody had
stopped fighting by then. His arms were limp, his head drooped into his shoulders, and he
couldn’t walk alone. Lance lowered him to a sofa and said, “I won’t lock the door if you
promise to stay here and sleep it off. Do you promise?”
Cody nodded yes. He didn’t have the energy to do anything but sleep. He wanted
to fall asleep and never wake up again.
* * * * When he finally did wake up, the backstage of the theater was dark and silent. He
heard the show going on out front—the audience was applauding the end of a song. His
head throbbed and his eyes were burning. He stood from the sofa and said, “I don’t need
them. I don’t need any of them.” Then he went back to his own dressing room to get his
coat and a baseball cap. After that, he staggered into the hall, toward the stage door exit.