The Legend of the Ditto Twins (19 page)

"No,
no offense. It's just... back home no one asks a question like that."

"Well,
you're in The Big City now. You should give it a whirl. And if you ever do,
Lily and I'd love to watch."

He began
to boogie again. Almost at once, thank God, I saw Lily dragging Clark toward
us.

"Where
did you go?" she shouted. "We've been all over the floor looking for
you two. Oh, I love Mariah Carey! C'mon." She grabbed Mario and they
promptly vanished.

Clark
shook his head. "Do you know what she asked me?"

"If
we were fucking, right?"

He shook
his head. "I should have known."

I shook
my head. "Mario asked me the same thing."

A couple
bumped into us, and the girl hollered, "If you're not gonna dance, get off
the floor."

Clark and
I immediately started moving in time to the music. Neither of us led; neither
of us followed. We just sort of fell into a mutual rhythm that seemed right for
us. Two numbers later, we began to relax. I found myself dropping my arms onto
his shoulders. A beat later, he slipped his arms around my waist. That's when I
locked my hands around his neck and pulled him close. Yep, we were both
rockhard
. And that's the first time I ever danced with my
brother.

Eventually,
Clark said, "I need a cigarette."

"I
don't think we can smoke in here."

"There's
a smoking patio. Lily showed me. C'mon." He reached for my hand as if it
were no big deal. I took it.

Outside,
I lit our cigarettes. "Did she really ask...?"

“...if we
were fucking?" He nodded. "Just like that."

"What
did you say?"

"I
denied it. After all, it was the truth. We're not fucking."

I nodded.
"Well, not technically. But what would you have said if she'd asked
about—you know, blowjobs?"

"I'd
have lied. I'll tell
ya
, we're both getting to
be..."

“...really
flawless liars. I know."

Clark
lowered his voice. "I wish I had the balls to kiss you right here."

"Better
not."

"Why
not?" He tilted his head. "Look at them."

We both
stared, more enviously than we cared to admit, at two guys making out in a
distant corner.

"But
they're queer," I pointed out.

"Gay."

"Same
thing. We're neither."

Suddenly
a voice said, "Hi, I'm Jett."

I looked
up. Right behind Clark stood a beautiful young guy—not just handsome but
classically beautiful. Like a face on a Roman coin. About our height. Dark
curly hair. Olive complexion, long eyelashes, sparkling teeth. He was wearing
an iridescent red tank top and form-fitting white jeans. You could see his
package, too. Couldn't miss it.

"And
I'm Brett."

His exact
double stepped out from behind him. He was wearing the same outfit. Showing the
same package.

"We
saw you come in," they said in one voice.

Clark
spun around to examine the only other pair of twins we'd ever met.

"They
call us..."

“...the
Hudson twins..."

“...as in
Rock. Get it?"

"Oh,
yeah, someone was mentioning you earlier this evening." I found my
cigarettes; I needed something to hold onto. "You're models, I hear."

"Right.
The toothpaste twins."

"We've
talked about modeling," I said.

"Tell
us about it," Clark added. "You mind?"

"Hell,
no," said one of them. "You wanna go..."

“...sit
down? There's an empty table. Grab it."

We
followed them to a cafe table with wire-backed chairs. Sitting, they slid their
chairs close until their knees were touching. Each laid a hand lightly on the
others inner thigh. Clark and I moved our chairs close, too. I felt his hand
drop onto my balls, so I put my hand on his, too.

"I'm
Clark," he began. "He's Mark. Or is it the other way around?
Sometimes even we can't tell ourselves apart."

They
laughed at his joke.

"How
do we tell you apart?" I asked.

One took
my hand, wrapped his fist around my forefinger and led it to the base of his
throat. "I'm Jett. I have a small mole right here. Feel it?"

"I'm
Brett." The other took Clark's hand in like manner and led it to his
throat. "I don't. Feel."

"And
I'm the one who usually gets things started," Jett said, leaning over to
kiss his brother.

Brett
pulled back. "Dammit, stop it! You know what Charlie said."

"Charlie's
our agent."

"Thinks
we're getting to be a little too public..."

“...about,
you know, our relationship."

"Afraid
it'll hurt our careers. You know."

"Who
wants to buy toothpaste..."

“...from
a couple of queers?"

We nodded
sympathetically.

"You
got any grass on you?" asked one of them.

"Not
on us," we replied.

"We've
got some dynamite stuff at home." I think it was Jett who took my hand.
"Want to come over? Get high?"

"Jett,
let go of him. Everyone's looking."

"They
sure as hell are—drooling over the four hottest studs in the place—fantasizing
about what the four of us are gonna be doing once we get out of here." He
took my hand again. "You didn't say no, did you? Want to come over?"

"Uh...
Can't. We came with our cousin and her..."

“...boyfriend,
and they've got the car."

His thumb
scratched my palm. "Sure?"

"Sure."

"Suit
yourselves." He let go of my hand, stood as if a switch had been turned
off, and handed me a card. "Give us a call sometime. We could fuck our
brains out." A nod passed between the dark-haired twins, and with perfect
synchronicity they leaned down and each kissed one of us. The kisses were
brief, but both Clark and I got a taste of tongue. Jett winked. "Your
loss. We're very good."

"Maybe
it's your loss," I replied. "See, we're phenomenal." I don't
know why I said it.

It didn't
matter. They hadn't waited for our response.

It was
after four when Mario dropped us off. He didn't want to come in, so we helped Lily
(who'd had way too much to drink) to her room and poured her into bed fully
clothed. We did take off her spike-heeled dancing shoes.

Back in
our room, we stripped down at once. When I tossed my jeans on the floor, the
Hudson Twins' card fell out.

"Do you
want to call em?" I asked.

"Nope.
Do you?"

"Nope.
I told you. I'm not queer for anyone but you."

We burned
the card in the ashtray. An idiot could guess what we did next.

About
noon, when we stumbled into the kitchen, Clay was standing at the counter, digging
in his photography bag.

"Big
night?" he asked without looking up.

I handed
him his hundred-dollar bill. "Too big—least for us country boys. But
Lily's fine. We put her to bed."

"Thanks.
What are your plans for the fuckin' Sabbath?"

"Thought
we'd work on the car for awhile. You?"

"Well,
I thought I might go for a walk. Take a stroll down memory lane."

"You
want us to come with you?" I offered.

"No,
I'm feeling pretty fuckin' good today, and I think I'd like to be alone."
He took his videocam from the bag and inserted a cassette. "There's a bit
of history I'd like to get on tape. No offense?"

"Anything
wrong?"

"On
the contrary. Now that it looks as if I'm gonna live, I've got to start getting
my shit together. And that I have to do all by my fuckin self. You mind?"

"No,
no, not at all."

I tried
not to sound too relieved. Sunday afternoons were always the worst part of the
weekend. Usually, Clark and I both began watching the clock about noon,
starting the countdown to his departure. We had learned right from the first
weekend a year ago there was only one way to take our minds off the weekly
separation and allow us to enjoy our last few hours together, and that was to
be horizontal together.

Slinging
the bag over his shoulder, Clay raised a finger to touch the brim of a hat he
wasn't wearing, and as if he could read our thoughts, walked out the door.

We headed
back to our room.

"Want
to finish that tape we started last night?"

"Sure,"
said Clark, activating the remote.

I started
to unbutton my shirt.

"
Here.
Let me!"

My
brother brushed my hands aside and finished what I had started. That left my
hands free to strip him. As if our moves were ordained, I kissed him onto the
bed.

"I
love being queer... for you," I murmured.

"I can't
imagine lying here with anyone but you," Clark decided softly. "Not
even the hunky Hudson Twins."

"Oh?
You think the Hudson Twins are hunky, do you?"

I started
tickling him. After sixteen years of close contact each of us knew exactly
which spots were vulnerable, and we attacked with gusto, detonating gales of
laughter and screams of outrage. Evenly matched, we raced through a series of
flip-flops to a truce sealed with a long, tender kiss.

The rest
of that afternoon, our lovemaking—and that's what it was, no doubt about it—was
largely silent. More and more we were learning to talk to each other without
words. But our wrestling had started the testosterone flowing, and we had just
started to pop when the bedroom door swung open and there stood Lily. Talk
about
coitus
interruptus
!
Instantly, we pulled apart and sat up.

"Oops.
Sorry." She closed the door. By the time we'd cleaned off and dressed, she
was no place to be found in the entire house.

"I've
got to catch that bus, or
Mom'll
..." said Clark.
"Call me the minute you talk to Lily."

I nodded,
and we headed off in double time for the bus station. Our farewells were even
more fraught than usual, but we each managed a melancholy little "ditto,
ditto, ditto" before he boarded the bus and I was alone again.