The Legend of the Ditto Twins (43 page)

Clay gave
his brother the finger and turned to us. "You two seem awfully fuckin'
sure of yourselves. Are you really that good?"

I reached
down into the side pocket of my shorts and pulled out a tape.

"If
you still have any doubts..." I grinned. "You and Jay aren't the only
ones who can make a movie." I placed the tape in Clay's hands and patted
it paternally. "Think of this as a visual aid. Pay close attention. That
means no diddling till after it's over."

"You
little bastards!"

"And
if that doesn't do it for you," added Clark, reaching in the side pocket
of his cargo shorts. "Try this one." He produced the other videotape.
"It's not as good as ours, but it's close. Sissy didn't burn it, like you
said. She just tried to erase it, I'll bet—and failed, thank God."

He handed
it to Jay, who dropped it, scrambled to recover it, and clutched it close to
his heart as if it were his firstborn son. I swear, he was almost levitating.

Clark and
I grinned and each raised a fist triumphantly, like they do at the Olympics.

"We
have to go now..."

“...and
fuck for at least eight hours..."

“...to
get in practice."

"Did
you watch the tapes?"

"Does
a bear shit in the woods?" Clay shook his head. "Jesus, you two sure
as hell know your way around a mattress."

We didn't
even blush. It was late the next morning, and the three of us were sitting
around the kitchen table.

"I
guess it runs in the family. So..."

“...do
you think we've got the chops'?"

"Oh,
yeah." Clay blew on his steaming coffee. "So does Jay, and he should
k
now. This is how fuckin much we think so:
We've decided to put up the money for the film our-fuckin'-selves. Bankroll it,
as the moguls say.
"

"Clay…
"
In unison.

He
shrugged, kind of embarrassed, "The BMW wouldn't have been as much
fan."

When Jay
returned from his errands, he was carrying a large package that turned out to
be the promised second enlargement of our Berlin photograph. We thanked him.

He threw
back his standard line. "I'm immune to flattery!" but added,
"Keep talking."

Half a
cup of coffee later, he began to unveil his plans for the film.

"I called
Helmut. He's very excited about the project—wants to be in it."

"'In
it'? But we thought..."

“...it
was gonna be just the two of us."

Jay
laughed heartily. "You narcissistic little shits, that would be what is
known as too much of a
muchness
."

"You
mean the movie..."

“...isn't
about us?"

"Well,
not every frame." He raised a forefinger. "Always make the audience
wait to see what they want to see. That way, they appreciate it more. Never
give em everything all at once or all the time. It's called prick-teasing."

That took
a moment to sink in, but we soon nodded.

"Now,
let's talk about the Hudson twins. What was their film about?"

A long
pause. We shrugged. "Nothing."

"Very
good. And what is our film going to be about?"

Another
long pause.

"Well,
shouldn't it be a love story?"

"About
these twins and how their bond grows..."

“...step
by step into something special..."

“...right
from that first night with the Vaseline..."

“...and
the Marlboros."

"Very
good." Jay nodded. "And I don't think you should do anything but
manual sex in the opener."

“...and
make 'em wait for the blowjobs till the next scene..."

“...which
will be the night we watch the porn film."

"And
they don't get to see us fuck..."

"...till
the last scene."

Jay
beamed. "Now you're catching on."

"Only,
where..."

“...does
Helmut fit in? We're not complaining, but..."

"Well,
art reflects life, it doesn't duplicate it. We'll find a way for you to meet
cute. Maybe in church. He's never played a priest. Since he's such a big star,
your scene with him really should be next to last. As long as you two don't
fuck each other during the
threeway
, then we're still
saving the goodies for the
boffo
finale."

"'
Boffo
'?" We grinned. "Good word."

Boy, did
we ever get a crash course in making movies during the next day or two. First,
we learned all about the camera, spent the entire day learning the difference
between real lovemaking and film lovemaking: How to play to the camera and not
let the audience know it. How to find our key light (new word) and use it to
our advantage. How to pace ourselves. In short, how to become the legendary
superstars we dreamt of being.

I doubt
that Jay had realized it before, but he'd been waiting all his adult life to
make this movie. After all, it was the story of his life as much as it was of
ours. Every few minutes, one inventive idea after another burst out of his
erotic imagination. We followed wherever he led, hung on his every word. Again
and again, he told us that we were born to be porn stars. Then came Sunday
night, and it was time to go back home to the real world.

When we
got home late Sunday night, Mom and Dad had already gone to bed. In the living
room, we saw that our Christmas portrait had been replaced by a reproduction of
Van Gogh sunflowers over the mantle, so w
e hung
our own copy of Jay's wondrous photograph over our bed. That way, we could see
it, both when we looked directly at it and when we gazed into the Rialto mirror
facing the foot of our bed.

Wednesday
night, we were up in our room, doing our homework and listening to the original
cast album of
Les
Miz
when we heard a car
pull up under our window and then a familiar voice ask if we were home. We raced
downstairs to intercept Go-To Guy, but Mom had already let him in.

"Hey-hey,"
he began with a friendly salute.

"Hey-hey.
What're you doing..."

“...all
the way out here?"

"
Somethin’s
come up. Thought you might be interested.
Figured I might be able to throw some business your way."

Smelling
money, Mom dragged out Scarlett O'Hara. "Why, how thoughtful of you. Would
you like a Coke?"

"That'd
be great."

"I'll
get it." Clark started for the kitchen. "You guys go up to our room.
We can talk up there." And he was gone.

"Oh,
you can talk down here," said Mom.

"Nah.
That's okay." I motioned Go-To Guy to follow me.

"Is
this something your father and I can't hear?" asked Mom. "Not a drug
deal or anything like that, is it?"

"Oh,
no, ma'am. We don't do drugs. We're good boys."

Just
then, Clark zoomed through the room, clutching three cans of Coke. He made
right for the stairs, motioning us to follow. I grabbed Go-To Guy's sleeve, and
we were gone before Mom could extend her hospitality any further.

Once the three
of us were in our room with the door closed, Clark and I turned to our visitor.

"What's
up?" In unison.

"Relax."
He lit a Marlboro and flopped on our bed.

"Are
you..."

“...in
trouble?"

"Hell,
no. Just the opposite. I got good news." He paused to admire himself in
the mirror, and noticing the reflection of Jay's photograph, he spun around to
study the real thing. "Geez, the camera loves you guys."

"Thanks,
but..."

“...what's
the good news?"

"Bread."

"Yeah?"
In unison.

"Well,
I was
showin
my boss the pix I took of your car, and
you know what he says? He says, 'Are those the twins?' I says, "The very
ones I've been
tellin
you about." And he says,
'Hire 'em.' Dudes, I've got an offer for you, so big you're not gonna believe
it!"

"Man,
we told you..."

“...we're
still minors."

"We
could get in a whole lot of trouble..."

“...and
you guys could too."

He looked
crestfallen. "You're not eighteen yet?"

"Nope.
Not yet." In unison, as if it were the truth, as if Mom had never lied to
us.

"Don't
you ever get tired of writing about us?"

Mark
stuck the ballpoint pen in the coil spine of the spiral notebook, and closed
it. "No. Not really."

Clark
shook his head. "I don't get it. Why is it so important to get everything
down on paper?"

"Well..."
Mark lit a Marlboro. "We're not gonna be young forever. Someday, when
we're so old we can't get it up anymore, don't you think it'll be kind of nice
to look back and read all about how hot we were?"

"Who
says we're not gonna be young and hot forever?" Clark giggled. "I
plan to be,
so
that means you have to be,
too."

"But
that's the whole point, Clark." Mark picked up the notebook and slapped
it. "Here is where we will be—young and hot forever. Besides, now that we're
gonna be movie stars, all kinds of people will want to know everything about
us."

Clark
tensed up. "You're not gonna show it to anyone, are you?"

"Relax.
No one will ever see this—not for decades. Maybe even centuries. But someday...
Someday, we're going to be legendary. I can just feel it in my balls"