The Legend of the Ditto Twins (42 page)

"I
was so fuckin' confused, so fuckin' stupid. So..."

"It's
water under the bridge. Let's drop it." Jay touched him gently.
"We'll never find another Corvette."

"You
never know." Clay tried to smile. "Want to go out to the dump and
take a look, for old time's sake?"

Jay shook
his head. "You only get one miracle per lifetime."

"Right."
Clay turned to us. "Anyway, we're gonna tackle the BMW, now that we've
found our second wind."

"Second
childhood is more like it," Jay snickered.

"It's
a great idea," said Clark, "but could we go inside? Shit. It's colder
'n hell out here."

"Is
it?" asked Clay. "I hadn't noticed."

Five
minutes later, we were sitting around the kitchen table. It hit me, as Jay
poured coffee into four matching mugs, that my brother and I had spent an
inordinate amount of our life around one kitchen table or another, and that's
where so many major decisions of our life had been made. We locked eyes and
knew this was going to be one of those days.

"How
come you guys are running late today?" asked Clay.

"We
ran into this friend of ours," I began.

"Not
a friend." Clark corrected me. "Just this guy we know." He
reached in his pocket and found the card Go-To Guy had given us. Like a poker
player, he laid it in the middle of the table and turned it face up. "He's
in the porn business. Wants us to make a film for his company."

Jay
picked it up and studied it. "Well, well, well. No surprise. Fresh meat
always attracts the jackals."

"What
do you mean?"

"Look."
Jay tossed the card down. "The adult film industry is a small, incestuous
family." He gagged. "Oops, wrong word. Let me rephrase that. Everyone
in porn knows everyone else—their strengths, their weaknesses, their place in
the pecking order. And I know them all." He tapped the card. "This
one’s the lowest of the low.
A
schlockmeister
."

"We
figured," said Clark.

"Did
you reject the offer out of hand?" asked Clay.

"Well,
yes, pretty much."

"But
not completely?"

"Well..."

"Then
you're still thinking about it?"

Silence.

Clay
shook his head. "Have you figured out yet what's the real fuckin reason
you still want to do this?"

"We
talked about it the whole trip..."

“...and
we came up with a lot of reasons, but..."

Jay
interrupted. "List them."

"I'm
not sure we can."

"Then
forget about it," he snapped. "If you don't know why you're doing
something, you shouldn't be doing it. Being a porn star is a calling, not so
different from being a priest. Don't laugh. You've got to know in your
heart—and your balls—that you have no other fuckin choice. Otherwise, this
business will destroy you. So? Talk."

"Well...
uh... we both like... being looked at," I began.

"Admired,"
added Clark.

"Yes,
you've both got an exhibitionistic streak a mile wide." This from Jay.
"Go on."

"Well,
we both love sex."

"Who
doesn't? Go on."

"Well..."
I paused. "Huh. I just thought of something. How's this for answer? While
we were home, there was a raid out at the rest stop."

"Oh,
yeah," said Jay. "I saw something on the TV. That fuckin' preacher
from Kansas. Flamm. You know, the guy who comes into a town, rounds up a batch
of sympathetic ministers to back him up, and heads for the police to put the
screws on em to clean up the town. How many did they snare this time?"

"Fourteen,"
I said. "Most of em married."

Jay
sighed. "Their lives ruined cause they couldn't face what they were."

"I
know that song," muttered Clay.

"Yeah."
I took a deep breath. "It took me a long time to say this but I'm...
queer."

"Not
as long as it took me," muttered Clay.

I groaned
sympathetically. "I'm really trying so damned hard not to be ashamed of
it. And I guess, maybe, the best way to prove I'm not ashamed is to let people
see how right it feels. And the best way to show em is to make movies. Does
that answer your question?"

Clark
stared at me as if he'd never seen me before.

"Now,
I'm not turning into a militant," I added quickly. "I'm not going to
start marching in Gay Pride Parades, but..."

"Finally!"
said Clay. "Doofus! You've found the answer."

I was
stunned. "When?"

Clay-Jay
roared with laughter.

"But
we haven't heard from the other half of the equation." Clay turned to
Clark. "You haven't said much."

"I
don't have to. He said it all."

"Okay,
let's say you've made a case for the two of you doing gay por
nography. That's only half the battle."

Clark had
his answer ready. "You mean the brother thing? The answer's the same. I'm
not ashamed of what we feel. Never have been. Not for one second. What's always
scared me are the repercussions—the fallout for being honest. But, maybe... if
we show everyone how happy we are and how right it is for us, then maybe
folks'll
begin to understand. And like Mark said, the best
way to show em is to make movies."

"That's
awfully naive," said Jay. "Or awfully brave."

"I
wish we'd had the balls to do it," said Clay.

"You
still could," I said "We wouldn't dream of making a movie without
you."

"What're
you talking about?"

"C'mon.
Forget about the BMW. We'll be your new project."

By the
time we'd eaten, showered, and discussed how to proceed, we were so buzzed that
we slipped into our cargo shorts and made our way straight to Clay-Jay's room.
They were in bed, watching Letterman. It was the first time we'd been in the
room since their return, and we were amazed to see behind the bed the
photographic blow-up of them on the Corvette—the one from Jay's bedroom in
Berlin.

"What's
up?" asked Clay, muting the TV.

We bounced
down on the bed, forcing them to make room for us. "Well, we've been
making plans..."

“...and
they all include you guys, so..."

“...we
need to know if you're gonna help us or not."

Jay
smiled. "Are you sure you're not rushing into this?"

"What
do you mean?" I asked.

"Okay,
let us ask you a few questions," Clay replied. "Why involve us? For
starters, what in the world could I do?"

"Why,
be our manager, of course. You know how bad we are with money and
details."

"Contracts,
bills, advertising, things like that."

"And
me?" asked Jay.

"Why,
direct the film, of course." This in unison.

He was
truly dumbstruck. "Me? But I... I've never directed a film in my life. I'm
a still photographer, just a cameraman."

"And
a twin."

Our
uncles stared at each other, the way Clark and I do, and had a serious
conversation without saying a word. Jay spoke first, very softly.

"I've
always wanted to direct a film."

Clay
nodded. "It’s perfect for you, Babe."

Jay
nodded giddily. "God knows, the three of us would need someone sane to
keep us in check—someone like you."

"Then
you'll do it?" In unison.

"Not
so fast." Jay peered at us over his glasses, and folded his hands into his
lap. We recognized the look, and waited uneasily. "You know that if you
proceed with this fuckin half-assed scheme, your mother—and your dad—will never
speak to you again."

"We've
talked about that, and..."

“...and
it's a chance we're willing to take."

"Sure?"
Clay and Jay, in unison.

Without
hesitation, we nodded. "It's our calling."

Clark
added, "Like Helmut. We're a lot like Helmut."

"Oh,
no, you're not," retorted Jay. "Not yet."

"Well,
if I were any kind of fuckin parent at all," said Clay, "I'd get the
two of you into therapy so fast!" Then he began to laugh, “...if I
believed in therapy."

"But
you're not just 'any kind of parent'..."

“...you're
the best parents we've ever had."

"I
am immune to flattery" declared Jay, but he was touched, I could tell.

Now Clay
was getting into it. "And speaking of being a fuckin parent, what would we
do with Lily?"

Jay
brushed the air as if swatting a fly. "We'll bring her along. She can do
make-up. God knows, anybody who could make Tanisha look human must know
something." He turned off the TV. "I haven't said yes yet. First, I
need to ask you guys some very intimate questions. Not as your parent, not as
your uncle, not even as a friend. As your director."

"Fire
away." In unison.

"How's
your stamina? Filmmaking is a long, slow ordeal. What's the longest you've ever
had sex at one go?"

"Um...
probably nine hours."

"I'd
settle for eight. Now, how do you think you'd handle having a lot of people on
the set? Cameramen, sound man, lighting guy, grips?" He paused. "Me.
Clay. Lily."

"We
love an audience."

"You
say you're very good in bed. How good? Are you versatile? Both of you?"

"Totally."

"Constantly."

"Can
you deep-throat?"

"Effortlessly."

"Thoroughly."

"Do
you rim?"

"Eagerly."

"Ecstatically."

"How
big are your dicks?"

"Seven
inches." In unison.

"That
means six and three-fourths."

"Seven-eighths!
But we're still growing."

"And
we haven't measured em in awhile."

"Is
there anything you won't do?"

"Yes."
In unison.

Jay
looked up, surprised.

"We
would never..."

“...hurt
each other."

Jay
nodded. "That's not what this film should be about."

Clay cut
in. "Is all this clinical talk really necessary?"

"You
don't buy a pig in a poke," replied Jay. "Babe, you'll never look at
a fuck film the same away ever again."