The Legend of the Ditto Twins (54 page)

"You
wanna go sit down?" I suggested.

They
followed us to the same cafe table where we'd sat the night we met them.

"So.
What did you think of our film?" Neither Clark nor I knew where to start.
"Yeah, we know," they groaned. "Be honest."

"Uh."
Finally, we blurted out, "You weren't relating like you usually do. Like
twins. Why didn't you touch each other? Why..."

“...didn't
you kiss each other?"

Their
answer was instant. "They wouldn't let us!"

"The
producer was scared shitless he'd get..."

“...arrested.
And the director was straight."

"Bummer."
We didn't know what else to say.

They
nodded and groaned again.

"But
you made money on it, didn't you?" I asked.

"Oh,
we got our upfront fee, but..."

“...no
royalties."

We
persisted. "But it was a bestseller, wasn't it?"

"Only
the first week. The twins thing, you know..."

“...so there
was a lot of anticipation. But then..."

“...folks
saw it, and word of mouth killed us. Now..."

“...they
don't even want to make a sequel."

We were
both amazed by this revelation, and I know that we were both thinking the same
thing. They must have heard our thoughts.

"That's
not gonna happen to you. From what we hear, yours is gonna a make a fortune
and..."

“...win
all the awards this year. That is if the Bible Thumpers don't come after
you."

"What're
you talking about?" In unison.

"You
know, the church group from Kansas that goes all over the country picketing
military funerals, rest stops, gay pride parades, video shops. Why, they
even..."

“...tracked
me and Brett down, found out our home address, and showed up on our doorstep.
We had to move."

"Well,
I guess
Clay'll
handle any problems that come up.
He's our uncle, also the producer. And if he can't..."

“...Jay
will. Jay knows his way around, too. He's the director. Also our uncle—they're
twins, too."

"Wow!
Twins, too?"

"See,
Jay used to live in Berlin till..."

“...he
started directing. He was a photographer."

The
Hudson Twins leaned forward. "'Jay'? Berlin?" Their eyes widened.
"Jay-
Cee
Photography?"

We
nodded, more than a little surprised.

"Why,
he's world famous. Right up there with..."

“...Helmut
Newton and Robert Mapplethorpe."

"He
is?" We were stunned.

"And
he's your uncle?"

"Yeah.
That's where we're staying," I added.

"You
mean he's here in America now? We'd love to..."

“...meet
him. Do you think that's possible?"

"Sure,"
said Jay when we broached the subject the next day. "Sounds like they
could use some vocational guidance."

The next
weekend, there we were, three sets of identical twins sitting around the
kitchen table at Casa Clay-Jay. The
twinship
thing
had kicked in at once, and by the time we got to our after-dinner cigarettes,
we were y
akking away like old
friends. During the meal, Clay and Jay had told the Hudson’s everything they’d
done wrong in their foray into porn, and they had accepted the criticism
respectfully, gracefully, even humbly. I guess failure had taken the edge off
their cocky self-assurance.

"Thanks,"
said Jett.

"Ditto,"
said Brett.

Clark and
I did a simultaneous double take.

"You
say ditto?" In unison.

"All
the time." In unison.

"Well,
of course," said Jay. "Why, Clay and I were saying 'ditto!' before
you guys were born. All twins do. That's because we're all dittos."

"Absolutely,"
agreed Clay in his most professorial tone. "Archetypal examples of the
ditto phenomenon."

"Oh,
my God!" gasped Jay. "That's our title!
The Ditto Phenomenon."

"Perfect!"
I crowed. "The great thing about 'ditto' is that it can mean so many
things..."

“...like
in public when we want to say 'I love you' but can't, we just say..."

"Ditto,
ditto, ditto!" In unison, all six of us.

We'd
found another bit of common ground.

After we
stopped laughing, conversation turned to the editing of our film.

Jay shook
his head. "It's been slow going. We've been cutting about one sequence a
week—but this one we've been working on the last few days practically edited
itself. We finished it in three days—the scene with Kurt Jupiter."

"Kurt
Jupiter!" sputtered Jett. "He's..."

“...in
the film, too? When do we get to see it?"

Jay
looked at his watch. "Well, that depends on how quickly you can get your
butts into the parlor."

Clay and
Jay lounged in their recliners, holding hands as usual; Jett and Brett curled
up on the couch; and Clark and I intertwined on the floor. After the new
footage ended, it was several moments before Jay s
tood, his palms covering his crotch. "This is not
supposed to happen."

Clay
roared. "Right, Babe. How dare you get turned on by your own work!"

"Shut
up!"

"Even
if it is fuckin genius, Babe."

"Just
shut up."

"Relax.
You're not the only one here with a hard-on."

"Right,"
giggled the
Hudsons
.

"Ditto,"
we added. In unison.

Jay
smiled cautiously. "Well... It's not bad."

We all
converged on him with hugs and kisses.

"I
am immune to flattery," he kept saying, but we could all see how pleased
he was. After a moment, though, he grimaced. "The problem is, when
everything comes together as perfectly as this, what
do
we do for an
encore? What if we turn out to be a fuckin' one-hit wonder?"

"Stop
it, Babe! This is only the beginning for you. Think what you could do with two
pair of twins!"

Slowly,
Jay turned to stare at Jett and Brett. So did we.

They were
the last ones to realize they'd just been offered a second chance. But once it
registered, their shit-eating smiles made clear that at twenty-one, they were
as ready for their comeback as Norma Desmond.

For the
next month, Clark and I worked our butts off at school, stayed out of Mom's
way, and counted the days till graduation. Each Friday, we fled to Casa
Clay-Jay to plan our follow-up film with the Hudson Twins. And as for our stage
names, here's how that went down: One night Clay came up with the idea that
Clark and I should use the names Ryan and Bryan, as if that's who we really
were.

"Makes
the events of the film seem more real," he said.

Jay
nodded. "And most of it is." He made a bee-line to hug Clay.
"Perfect. I fuckin' love you, Babe."

Clay
beamed. "Ditto, Babe."

I piped
up, "Why don't we just call ourselves Ryan and Bryan Ditto?"

I was
just being smart-ass, I think.

Jay
looked up. "The Ditto Twins? Not bad. A little precious, but not fuckin
bad. Cutesy but catchy. Let's think about it."

We
thought about it a lot—damned near flunked calculus but squeezed through—and
with so many more important things on our mind, we gave serious thought to
skipping the graduation ceremonies altogether. Clay and Jay talked us out of
that and agreed to attend. It would be the first time Jay had seen his sister
in over thirty years.

Meanwhile,
he and Phil finished the film in record time, and sent the finished product off
to the duplicator.

Once we
decided to go through with all the pomp and circumstance crap, we invited Lily
and Phil, Jett and Brett, even Tanisha and Ricky. Clay rented a limousine to
bring everyone to the event. Somehow, we never got around to telling Mom and
Dad there would be a few unexpected guests.

The
morning of graduation day, we headed down to the basement to take our communal
shower, and one thing led to another, as it always did. We were about to head
into the homestretch when Clark abruptly pulled away from me.

"What?"
I muttered.

He
reached into the folds of his big blue bath towel lying on a nearby orange
crate and pulled out our ruler.

"Remember?"
he grinned.

I nodded.
"Graduation day, right?"

In a
moment, he was on his knees, giving my erection a few extra strokes to bring it
up to its full height.

"Seven
and seven-eighths. Shit! You're still growing!"

I grabbed
the ruler, and we shifted positions. "You too. Seven and seven-eighths.
Might as well call it eight."

"Might
as well. Let's see how eight inches works."

It was a
nice way to start Graduation Day.