The Legend of the Ditto Twins (51 page)

"We
got gold tonight," Jay said.

"I've
never seen anything quite like that in all my years in this business,"
added Riggs. "Nice work."

"Ed's
right. It was fuckin perfect."

We—the
three of us—groaned happily.

"Only
one more scene to go." Jay murmured almost sadly. "Get cleaned up!
See you tomorrow."

"Yup.
What time's the call?
And
..."

“...where?"

"In
the big bedroom, I guess." Jay sighed, handing us towels. "I can't
seem to come up with anything better."

"It'd
be great if we had the Mazda here."

"Yeah,
fucking in the great outdoors would be great."

"You
need a car?" asked Riggs.

"Back
home, we have our own car, a Mazda. It'd be perfect for the scene.
We fuck in it..."

“...and
on it all the time."

"Well,
I can't promise you a Mazda, but I do know the vice president of the local
Antique Auto Club. He's a fan." Riggs pulled out his cell phone. "Let
me give him a call."

Jay
perked up instantly. "Any vintage car will do—only it has to be red."

Riggs
held up his phone. "Voice mail. I'll try later."

"Thanks."
Jay turned back to us. "The three of you should get to bed as soon as
possible." He crinkled his eyes with a groan. "Uh... let me rephrase
that. Helmut's got an early plane to catch—and as for the two of you, don't
fuck all night and waste what few body fluids you have left. You'll have to go
some to top tonight's performance."

"It
will be
w
underbar,
I'm
sure." Helmut began to wipe himself down. "I would love to stay and
watch, but..."

"Oh,
that's okay. We'll give you a private show..."

“...when
we get to Mykonos, about seventy hours from now."

"You're
still planning to go to Mykonos?" asked Jay.

"If
that's..."

“...all
right?"

"Why
wouldn't it be?" replied Jay with a fixed smile. "Have you made your
reservations yet?"

"Oh,
shit!" In unison.

He shook
his head. "I'll speak to Clay. Of course, last-minute tickets cost a lot
fuckin' more, you know."

I looked
at Clark.

"That's
okay. Can you..."

“...just
take it out of our salary?"

Jay
nodded. "And I suppose you'll want some mad money, too?"

"Oh,
yeah. That's right. We..."

“...hadn't
thought of that."

"One
another thing, you shouldn't stay more than three days or you won't get home in
fuckin time for school."

"School?
Oh, yeah..."

“...school."

Jay
leaned over and kissed Helmut on the forehead. "Take care of my kids, Dear
Heart."

And he
was gone; we turned to Helmut.

"Is
he..."

“...upset
or something?"

"Just
tired, I think. Where's the shower?"

"The
water's turned off. We'll..."

“...have
to go back to the villa."

It wasn't
until we—the three of us—were in the shower, soaping up, that we—the two of
us—began to consider what a long time seventy hours could be. Clark and I
exchanged glances.

"Helmut...
uh... we know you usually prefer to sleep alone, but we were wondering..."

“...if
maybe you'd make an exception for once and stay in our room tonight?"

Helmut
smiled. "Where else?" He reached for a towel. "But no sex. You
must save yourselves for tomorrow."

Helmut
slept in the middle, between us, and this time it didn't seem as wrong as it
had in Berlin. We dozed off, so tangled up in one another that we were
beginning to feel like triplets—or one person, I'm not sure which.

Helmut's
exit the next morning was more rheumy-eyed than romantic, and we went back to
sleep almost at once. When we awoke shortly before noon, Clay and Jay were
waiting for us.

"Here
are the plane tickets," began Clay. "They cost a king's ransom, and they're
non-refundable, so don't change your minds."

"Won't
happen." In unison.

"And
here's your spending money." He counted out a stack of Greek drachmas.
He'd been to the bank. "Don't fuckin spend it all on booze, drugs, and
whores."

"Oh,
don't worry about that. We're not gonna get out of bed..."

“...the
whole time we're there."

Jay
stood. "Be sure they sign the chit for the advance."

"Sure."
In unison. "What's next?"

"I
want the two of you to go for a long walk and prepare. Talk about how, when,
and why you fucked for the first time. Be back in an hour." Jay turned to
leave but stopped. "You do know, don't you, this is the most important
scene in the film. This will be your fuckin last chance to show everyone how
much you mean to each other... how natural this is for you... why we made the
film."

Out
behind the barn stretched an overgrown field that had not been tilled in years,
and beyond it, in the distance, was a busy highway choked with automobiles and
eighteen-wheelers. Clark and I, arm in arm, waded through the underbrush,
hardly noticing the juxtaposition of the primeval past and the complex present.
He spoke first.

"Can
I have a cigarette?"

"You've
run out?"

"I
gave Helmut my pack." He grinned. "I think we've corrupted him."

I found
my Marlboros. "And he's corrupted us."

"'Corrupted'?
You think so? Changed us maybe, but..."

"You
still want to go to Mykonos?" I asked.

"Don't
you?"

I got out
my Bic. "Yeah, a lot."

"Yeah,
me, too. I love being with him."

"Me
too. Not as much as with you. But..."

“...almost."

"Yeah."
I lit up. "Do you suppose there's any truth in all that crap about going
through life two by two?"

Clark lit
his cigarette. "It's in the Bible, I think."

"But
we're so far outside the law already, would it really make any difference if...
if we moved a little farther?"

"Who
the hell knows? And I do love kissing him..."

“...and
fucking him. Only..."

“...not
as much as I do you." In unison.

As far as
I could tell, we both meant what we said. Anyway, we stopped talking and
started kissing each other for awhile before we continued the conversation.

"Can
you see us going through life three by three?"

Clark
sighed. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Yeah.
Me, too. Maybe."

"Only
where?" Clark was always the practical one. "Back home? Berlin? Some
place new? Y'know, Mark, we've got to start getting our shit together. It's
only a month or so till graduation."

I nodded.
"Then what?"

"Exactly.
For one thing, where are we gonna live? Not with the folks, that's for sure. Of
course, we could always stay at Clay-Jay's, long as we want..."

“...or
move to Berlin, I suppose, only what if Helmut has other ideas?"

"Yeah,
maybe we should get his input."

"When
we get to Mykonos." Clark ground out his cigarette. "But... Suppose
he's not on the same page?"

"Clark,
you heard what he told Jay, practically said he was in love with us."

"True."
He paused. "Are we in love with
him?"

"Are
we?"

"Not
yet."

"But
almost?"

Clark
nodded. "Well, I guess we have our first boyfriend, anyway, huh?"

Our
soul-searching was abruptly interrupted by a horn honking. We looked up, and
bumping across the field was a caravan of cars: the equipment van, Riggs's
limousine, and bringing up the rear, another automobile—not a Mazda, but a
Corvette. A
red
'57 Corvette.

The next
half hour was absolute chaos. Jay was everywhere at once, flying by the seat of
his pants, re-planning the final scene so it could be played there in the
field. Once the position of the Corvette was set, Phil, Felix, Pavol, and Libor
went into action setting up the cameras, the reflectors, and the generator for
the lights and monitors.

"Move,
move!" demanded Jay. "We've only got about four hours to get the
scene before we start losing the light."

Lily
busied herself preparing a combination make-up and craft table under the one
available tree. Riggs and the owner of the villa arranged an umbrella table
behind the camera, poured themselves drinks from a thermos of daiquiris, and
watched. Soon, Clay drove us back to the villa to shower and prepare ourselves
for the scene.

"Don't
dawdle," shouted Jay as we drove off.

We stuck
our heads out the window.

"You
just be ready by the time we get back. You know..."

“...we've
only got about four hours to get the scene before we start losing the
light."

Jay gave
us the finger, then blew us a kiss.

In the
shower, we didn't exactly dawdle, but we did take our own sweet time soaping
those body parts of each other that especially turned us on. Clark, as always,
electrified me, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why Helmut kept
invading my thoughts, kept blurring my focus, kept diluting my passion. Worse,
I could sense Clark was wrestling with the same demons I was.

We dressed
in the chambray shirts, the crucifixes, and the denim cutoffs. Nothing else.
When we got back to the location, Jay pulled us aside at once.

"You
know, I've been thinking. From what you've told me, Clay was really the one who
opened the door for you to start thinking about anal sex. Yes?"

We
nodded.

"And
since there's no uncle character in the film, I've been trying to come up with
a way for someone to say some of the same things he said to you. That would
give the scene more validity, more meaning,
y'know
?"

"But
who?" In unison.

"Your
father. Played by me."

"Well,
Clay said a lot of things..."

“...that
Dad would never say."

Jay
raised a finger. "And a lot that he would."

"Like
what?" In unison.