Fic: People Come Around, Entourage, Vince/Eric, 2/6
Notes in Part 1.
MARCH: Cross-Genre Appeal
Vince’s last movie, Park Place, makes a major dollar debut on DVD and they decide to have a guys’ night to celebrate. Turtle’s not sure what that means; anymore, they’re all guys’ nights, because Vince turns all the girls down, E’s stopped his serial dating, and he and Drama aren’t getting anywhere just as fast as always. But Vince says, “Tonight, guys’ night!” at breakfast so Turtle says he’s down.
They go to a bar that has a moss-covered fountain at one end and a volcano spewing red and orange lights at the other. In between, there are two bars and about two hundred hot shots. They take a table in the middle, a good table, and E goes up to get the first round because he’s lost some kind of bet with Vince.
“Do we want to know?” Turtle asks, and Vince shrugs.
“We had a bet about who could impersonate Lloyd on the phone better,” Vince says. “I got Ari to drive to a meeting at Disneyland that didn’t exist. I win.”
Turtle bumps Vince’s fist. “Nice,” Drama says.
Vince smirks. “What, you think it was a sex thing?”
Turtle shrugs. “Gotta ask,” he says. These days, he feels like that’s true. Vince and E have always had their own stuff going on - the business side of things that Turtle never gets too worked up over, because everything always works out - but now, when he sees them talking quietly at the edge of a crowd, he wonders what’s going on. He wonders which separate life they’re talking about.
The next round is on Vince, and then Drama buys because he wants to toast his own success - he helped a woman win $46,000 on Squares that day - and then it’s Turtle’s turn, and then they go ‘round again. They talk like the old times: stories from home, the recent gossip from around town, girls they all know and have seen recently. When the volcano starts to look real, E suggests they head home, and Turtle agrees. “Good night,” he says, tapping E’s arm as they wait for the car.
“Yeah, it was,” he says. “That place is kinda weird, huh?”
“Little bit,” Turtle agrees. “Hey, you wanna go to Max’s, get a bite?”
“Yeah, I could eat,” E says, but Vince shakes his head.
“Let’s go home,” he says. “We’ll get pizza. Johnny, where can we get pizza right now?”
“I know just the place,” he says, and starts dialing.
Ten minutes after they get home, two huge pies are delivered. Drama brings them outside, where Turtle’s settled in on the deck. E and Vince bring out cold beers for everyone and hand them off, then Vince sits up on the railing, and E leans beside him. Drama takes the chair next to Turtle. It’s a beautiful night, just a small breeze, the air warm, the sky clear. A good time had by all. No girls, no girlfriends, nothing in the way. Turtle lights up. He passes the joint to Drama while he gets a piece of pizza, and when he looks up E’s passing it to Vince. His hand snags around Vince’s wrist for a moment while he takes a drag.
“So what are you guys?” Turtle asks, sitting back in his lounge chair.
“What?” E asks, exhaling a burst of smoke.
Turtle waves his hand between them. “Your deal. Like, are you, what, boyfriends?”
“I believe the politically correct term is partners,” Drama says, holding the joint. He sparks the end and takes a long drag.
Vince is just exhaling his, and he coughs at the end of it and grabs E’s shoulder. E is still looking at Turtle. “Partners?” Turtle asks.
Drama exhales. “Lovers?”
“Jesus,” E says. Turtle blows a couple smoke rings his way. “Why you asking, Turtle?”
“Just curious,” he says. “Like if you were going to tell someone, what would you say? This is Vince, my -” he can’t make himself say lover. “My partner?”
“That sounds like we’re in business together,” Vince says.
“We are,” E answers shortly.
“Come on,” Turtle says. “Vince, how would you introduce E?”
“It would depend on who I was talking to,” Vince says, shrugging.
“Say Ari,” Turtle says.
Vince rolls his eyes. “Ari, this is Eric, my manager and your worst nightmare.”
“No, I mean, like -”
“I know what you mean,” Vince says. “But I haven’t thought about it, really. I’ve never had to introduce him.”
“Nobody knows but you guys,” E says. When he shrugs, his shoulder brushes Vince’s arm, and Vince shifts in closer to him. “And I can’t imagine saying ‘Hey, douche-bag, meet my boyfriend.’”
Turtle winces. “Fuck, that sounds wrong,” he says. “E’s boyfriend. Nope, doesn’t work.”
Drama’s chewing thoughtfully on his piece of pepperoni. “The question is, what would it be in your usual relationship? If you’d been with a girl this long -”
“If E’d been with a girl for fifteen years, he’d be calling her Mrs. Murphy,” Turtle says. Drama and Vince laugh, and even E shakes his head.
“Yeah, where’s my ring?” Vince asks, elbowing E in the ribs. “Get me something nice.”
“I’ll put it on your credit card,” E says.
“Wait, which one of you is the girl?” Turtle asks, sitting up.
This time, both Vince and E speak together. “What?”
Turtle shakes his head. “One of you’s the girl, right? That’s how it works with gay guys, I saw it on TV.”
“You watch gay TV?” Drama asks.
“So do you, dickhead, unless your L Word box set doesn’t count.”
“I’m not a girl,” Vince says.
“I can vouch for that,” E says. He crosses his arms and waves off the joint when Vince offers it. “No one’s the girl, Christ, Turtle. Have some class.”
Turtle shrugs. “I’m just sayin’ what I’ve seen, man. That’s the way it works.” He takes a bite of pizza. It’s good, gooey and greasy with not too much oregano in the sauce. “You guys are gonna be gay, you ought to know this stuff.”
Vince flings his arm back and the joint goes flying. Turtle sits up to protest. “No one’s gay,” Vince says. “What is your deal?”
“Uh, yeah, you’re fucking a guy,” Turtle says.
“Unless there’s something we don’t know about E,” Drama says, and they both look over at him.
“Fuck you,” E says.
“I mean, you have sex, right? I’m not just imagining that?”
“You’re imagining us having sex?” E says. “This gets weirder all the time.”
“I think Turtle’s asking a valid question,” Drama says.
“I need another beer,” Vince says. He hops off the rail and walks inside. Turtle leans in, looks up at E.
“C’mon,” he says. “What’s the story? Vince is just gay for you?”
E shrugs. “Not just me,” he says. “I didn’t turn him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“There were other guys?” Drama asks. “Jesus, my baby brother, a fag.”
“Don’t fucking say that,” E hisses. “Fuck, Drama. He’s not - neither one of us - it’s not like that, OK?”
Turtle shakes his head, trying to clear it, trying to get a hold on things. “But, so, what, you have sex, right? I mean, like gay sex.”
E rubs his face. “Now I’m gonna need another beer.”
“What, like you haven’t told us every detail of your sex life with every girl since Sarah Coleman jacked you off in sixth grade?”
“She was hot,” Drama says, and Turtle rolls his eyes.
“She was 10 and you were like 47,” he says. “E. I’m just trying to get my head around this. You guys chased girls our whole life, and now you like cock?”
E looks like he wants to crawl over the railing, but Turtle knows him, knows he won’t just cut and run. This is E; he’d throw a punch before he’d storm out.
“I like cock.”
Turtle’s head whips around, which is an unfortunate move that unleashes some kind of blurry earthquake on the deck. When he can focus again, he sees Vince standing in the doorway, holding a glass of water, looking at E. “That’s what you’re asking, right?” Vince says. He walks over and sits on the end of Drama’s lounge chair, folds his legs up Indian-style. “I like it. In general, I like sex, and I like having sex with guys. Gay sex, Turtle, any way you’re thinking about that. I don’t know what that makes me. I haven’t done it a lot - not nearly as much as with women - but yeah. Yeah.”
Turtle waits, expecting someone to fill the silence, waiting for Vince to laugh and say gotcha. He waits, and waits, and then he clears his throat. “Since when?” Turtle asks.
Vince shrugs. “Middle school, high school,” he says. “I traded blow jobs with Finn McBeal while we were at that summer acting camp.”
“Jesus, I hate that story,” E says.
Vince laughs. “And don’t worry, Turtle, I have specific tastes. You aren’t on the list.”
Turtle rolls his eyes, but it makes him feel better, somehow. He wants to believe that Vince hasn’t been looking. He turns to E. “What about you, then, E? Secret summer camp rendezvous?” E shrugs. “C’mon, Vince likes cock and you don’t?”
“I like Vince’s cock,” he says. “I haven’t tried any others.”
“That’s my boy,” Drama says, patting Vince on the shoulder. “That’s like cross-genre appeal.”
Vince snickers, and then so does E, and Turtle isn’t exactly sure what’s funny but he laughs, too, and leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. He feels his chair move a little and cracks an eye to see E sitting on the end, drinking from Vince’s water glass.
“Man, guys’ night is just fucked forever,” he says, but no one seems to hear him.
APRIL: Hollywood Stuff
In April, Turtle’s downtown picking up the latest Madden when he sees Cathy, the girl from Trivial Pursuit night. She looks him over and shakes her head. “You never called,” she says.
Turtle nods. “I - some stuff happened,” he says. “Believe me when I say it had nothing to do with you.”
“I believe you,” she says, smirking. “Still, it’s too bad.”
“Isn’t it,” Turtle says.
They have drinks that night and go back to her place. For a girl who only gave him her number last time, she’s very eager: they go right to the bedroom. Turtle can’t believe his luck, and mentions it afterwards, when he’s lying next to her, sharing a skinny joint.
“Well, your friend was a little much,” she says. She giggles. “But if you want to double, my friend Alice is pretty hard up at the moment.”
Turtle laughs. “Let’s keep it you and me, for now.”
Two nights later he puts on his good hat - limited edition red Yanks cap, from the World Series - and takes her to a diner in Pasadena that serves sausage like those back home. He has a good time, a good meal, a good smoke, and he gets laid. The fucking perfect night.
“She is real, right?” E says when Turtle rolls in the next morning. “There’s no air valve in the back?”
“Yeah, I got a real girl, E,” Turtle says. “Remember what they’re like? With the tits and pussy?”
Drama snorts. Vince looks genuinely proud of him. “Hey, come on, guys,” he says. “Turtle’s got a girl, we should be happy.”
“So when do we get to meet her?” Drama asks. “And what about her friend?”
“I dunno, how about tomorrow night?” Turtle says. “We could hit LAX.”
“Aw, I hate that place,” E bitches. “Fucking meat market.”
“But not a bad DJ,” Drama says, and Turtle has to agree.
Vince turns to E, and they seem to have some kind of strange silent conversation. Then E shrugs and says, “Fine, whatever,” and Vince grins.
“So let’s go,” Vince says. “Turtle, give her a call?”
So the next night they meet up at LAX. Cathy brings a couple of friends, and they’re all wearing the college girl clubbing uniform: insanely tiny black skirts, shiny halter tops that barely hold their tits in place, makeup like they’re going on stage. Even Cathy, who had on jeans and green Converse sneakers the last time he saw her, is all dressed up. He’s not sure whether to cheer or start worrying; when he watches her grin expand nearly to breaking as he introduces Vince, he gets a pretty good idea.
But this, at least, he’s used to. It’s been hard to hold a girl’s attention with Vince in the room since they were 13. Turtle doesn’t take it personally, and somehow knowing that Vince isn’t interested really helps. Cathy sits next to him at the table, not Vince, and after a while she seems to get a little bored with just staring at him while he talks to E, and then Turtle gets his date back. That serves him just fine. But Cathy’s friends don’t take the hint so easily. When Turtle gets up to dance with Cathy, he sees Vince on the dance floor with Heather. They cut out after a while to get refills, and Cathy says, “I think my friend likes your friend.”
He follows her eyes to where Vince is talking to Heather at the table. Heather’s hands are on Vince’s arm, and Turtle can guess exactly how good his view of her tits is. Next to Vince, E’s staring at the dance floor. His arms are crossed, his eyes half-closed. To most people, he’d probably just look bored, but Turtle picks up on the annoyance - probably anger - from the bar. He shakes his head. “Trust me,” he says, “she’s got no chance.”
Cathy looks instantly offended. “Hey,” Turtle says, trying to soothe her, “I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with her, I mean, she’s totally hot. It’s just Vin -” and he stops, because he realizes, suddenly, that the truth isn’t an option. Vince and E’s secret is now his secret, too. “He’s seeing someone,” Turtle says, not looking at E.
Cathy’s eyebrows go up. “Oo, really? Is he back with Mandy Moore?”
“Uh,” Turtle says. If only it were that simple, he thinks. “You know, I really, I shouldn’t say any more. Hollywood stuff, you know.” Cathy smiles and nods, like she does know. Like Turtle’s actually talking about something.
Cathy’s friends decide to cut out around midnight, and Turtle lets her go. He can’t exactly invite her back to Vince’s place, after all. Once they leave, he takes a seat next to E, who looks truly bored, now. Vince is dancing again, and Turtle watches E not watching him and shakes his head.
“Man, I’m ready when you are,” he says, and E sits up.
“Thank fucking god,” he says. “Get Vince, will you? I’ll get the car.”
On the ride home the guys agree that Cathy’s hot and that her friends are kind of dull, which is nice cover for Drama, who struck out with all of them. “That Heather girl, though, she sort of had her eye on you, huh?” Turtle says to Vince.
Vince laughs and stretches his arms across the back of the seat, his knuckles brushing Drama’s shoulder. “More than just her eyes,” he says. “Those things were real, by the way.”
E, in the driver’s seat, shakes his head. “Keep talking, Romeo,” he says.
Vince laughs and sits forward, his hands sliding around the seat and landing on E’s chest. “Don’t worry, baby, the only tits I want are yours.”
“I’ll crash the fucking car, Vince, I swear,” E says.
“Please do,” Drama says. “If I hit my head hard enough, maybe that image will get driven out.”
The next morning, Turtle wakes up to E pounding on his door. “Get your ass out here right the fuck now,” he shouts.
“All right, all right,” he says. The clock reads 9 a.m., way too fucking early for E to be mad at him. He tries to remember what he might have done yesterday to incur the wrath - did he forget to put Arnie’s toys back in the box? Suddenly he can’t remember if he let Arnie out after they came home. “Shit,” he says, thinking that probably literally sums up the problem. He pulls on a shirt, brushes his teeth, and stumbles down to the kitchen.
E’s pacing in front of the island, holding his cell phone. To say he looks pissed would be like saying Ari looks busy. That’s not what makes Turtle’s stomach drop, though. Vince is sitting at the table, following E with his eyes. When he looks up at Turtle, he frowns. “The fuck did you tell her?” E asks.
“Tell who what?” Turtle asks. He walks in, carefully, and puts both hands on the island countertop. “What’s going on?”
“Your girlfriend talked to TMZ,” he says. “They’re saying Vince and Mandy are back together, that they’re having some kind of secret romance.”
“What?” Turtle looks from E’s furious face to Vince’s serious expression. “Jesus,” he says. “Look - Cathy was talking about how Heather wanted to hook up with Vince, and I said she didn’t have a chance, that he was involved with somebody. And then she asked if it was Mandy, and I -” Oh, he thinks, realizing his mistake. He shrugs. “I didn’t say no, exactly, I guess.” He turns to Vince. “I was just trying to get her off your back!”
Vince rolls his eyes. “I can handle myself,” he says.
“Unlike you,” E says. “You haven’t learned anything? About keeping your fucking mouth shut around groupies?”
“Hey, that’s bullshit,” Turtle says. “Look, I messed up a little, but I didn’t do anything that bad. She brought that Mandy shit up on her own. And what’s the fucking big deal, anyway?”
“The big deal is it isn’t true,” E mutters.
“So? Neither is half the stuff they put up,” Turtle says. He gives up on E. “Look, Vince, I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I didn’t mean to lead her to some weird conclusion. I just didn’t want her getting the wrong - well, the right idea.”
Vince nods, after a minute, a slow apologetic nod. “It’s fine,” he says, and E huffs. “E, come on, he didn’t mean anything.” E shrugs. “OK?”
“Fine,” he says, and Vince nods again.
Vince stands up, claps E on the shoulder, then Turtle. “Now, if this crisis is over for the moment, I’m going back to bed.”
“Get a shower, instead,” E says. “We’ve got Ari at 11.”
“Fuck.” Vince sighs, then walks out of the kitchen.
Turtle releases the death grip he’s got on the counter. E’s staring at his cell phone, clicking through messages or something. “Are we cool?” Turtle asks.
E shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, not looking up.
“Hey,” Turtle says. “Jesus, E. I don’t even - is this even about Vince’s career? Or are you mad that someone’s saying your boy’s getting it on with someone else?”
E laughs, that tiny empty humorless laugh that means Turtle’s really in trouble. “You’re right, it’s just me overreacting,” he says. “You fucking prick. You told that girl he’s having a secret relationship, and now people are going to be looking.” He crosses his arms. “Turtle, I work every day to keep this quiet. Do you get that? Nobody gets to know.”
“I get it,” Turtle says. “Which is why I said Mandy and not you, dickhead.”
E shakes his head. “You don’t get it at all. This isn’t a fucking game.”
Turtle rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man,” he says. He goes back to his own room to shower.
He drives them in to Ari’s after breakfast. E still isn’t really speaking to him, but Vince is fine. Turtle figures that’s all that really matters. Fucking E, always overreacting to everything. So there’s one Web site that thinks Vince is still with Mandy. Who cares? It’s probably actually good cover, for Vince and E. The farther away from the kitchen talk they get, the more pleased Turtle is with his quick cover - though not so pleased that he’ll answer Cathy’s call, when it comes in on the way to Ari’s. Girls who talk to the press don’t get to hang around.
“E, get the fuck in here, you little cocksucker!” Ari greets them, his face red, angry, and Turtle flinches. He takes a seat in the reception area while Vince and E go into Ari’s office and close the door. Shauna’s already in there. Through the glass, Turtle watches Ari and Shauna lecturing E - and maybe even Vince - the whole time, and he starts to wonder exactly what might be going on in there. Does Ari really know? If he’s calling E a cocksucker - Fuck, Turtle thinks, because no way will Vince forgive him for this. Not that he’ll have the chance, because E will fucking murder him.
He doesn’t even wait until they’re in the car, just mutters to E as they approach the elevator, “Does Ari know?”
E glances over. “You kidding? You would’ve seen the mushroom cloud,” he says, and Turtle feels relieved.
It turns out the lecture from Ari was Mandy-related, though, and things are tense at lunch. Drama joins them, and Turtle’s pretty fucking glad. Vince and E sit on opposite sides of the table and barely talk. That’s unusual; though they’re careful not to touch in public, they usually don’t shut up, particularly after meetings. But the silence is long and certain, and Turtle tries once to ask what’s going on and gets only a glare from E. After that, he leads Drama into a long talk about his career prospects that gets comment, at least, from Vince.
Things are quiet again on the way back, and Turtle ducks immediately into the den once they’re home in order to avoid having to talk to E. He puts in Madden and plays for a few hours, then ventures out for dinner. He grabs some cold pizza from the fridge, then goes to the living room, seeing E and Vince talking on the deck. Neither of them looks particularly happy, and though Turtle feels like maybe he should run away, he decides he’ll have to face the music sometime. He settles in with the remote and waits. Vince comes back in after a few moments, looking sort of pissed off, and sits on the couch near Turtle.
“Uh, what’s up?” Turtle asks, noticing E’s still outside.
“Nothing much,” Vince says. “Just E’s being a dick.”
“Huh,” Turtle says. He wants to make a joke, but he can’t figure out what to say. He’s not sure how their relationship works, whether it would be funny or offensive to suggest that Vince just cut E off. So instead he stays quiet while Vince fidgets, crossing and uncrossing his arms, staring at the TV but really looking over at the deck every few minutes. Turtle misses, suddenly and completely, the days when all of Vince’s flings were casual, when the only thing Vince brooded over was business, when Turtle was never expected to really say more than, “Well, fuck that, man.”
Finally E walks back in, phone in hand. He looks angry and mean, and Turtle suddenly gets a cold feeling in his stomach like when he’d hear his parents fight as a kid. “Are we going to talk about this?” E asks, holding open the door.
“Talk here,” Vince says. E rolls his eyes. “You just don’t want an audience because you don’t want anyone else to see what a jackass you’re being.”
“I’m a jackass, right,” E says. He crosses his arms.
“What’s going on?” Turtle asks.
E keeps his arms crossed tight. “After your little line at the club, Shauna says it’s important that Vince is seen without Mandy. So he’s going to the Zydeco premiere later this week.”
“Yeah? I heard that movie’s smokin’, man,” Turtle says. “With Alyssa Milano and that new girl, the model?”
“Kinsy Carver,” E says. “Who also happens to be Vince’s date.”
Turtle glances at Vince, who is leaning back as far as he can into the couch. “You’re banging Kinsy Carver?”
E snorts and Vince says, “No. No. We’re just going to the premiere. It’s not a date, it’s a fucking publicity stunt.”
“Because that’s how it always works,” E says, and Vince looks at Turtle.
“You get this, don’t you?”
Turtle looks from E to Vince. “Actually, man, I kinda gotta side with E on this one,” he says, and Vince’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, but you earned that reputation.”
“Exactly,” E says. “Exactly. When was the last time you went out with a girl and didn’t end up fucking her at the end of the night?”
Vince sighs. “E, you have to trust me,” he says. “I’m not going to fuck her. I’m not going to fuck anyone, OK, anyone but you.” Turtle winces, but he’s pretty sure neither of them sees it. “Shauna says I should do this, and you know she’s right,” Vince says. He stands up and walks over and puts his hands on E’s biceps. Turtle looks at the TV, but he can still see them out of the corner of his eye, can’t miss it when Vince pulls E closer or when E nods, then laughs a little at something Vince is saying. Turtle ducks his head and angles his hat when he sees Vince’s head start to bend down, and he almost can’t even hear them kiss over the noise from the television.
They go to the premiere as a group and pick up Kinsy Carver on the way, from her hotel. She slides in next to Vince and cuddles up to him, which is nice because it gives Turtle a great view of her tits. He looks up to give E a wink and notices the careful blankness of his face, looks down to see Kinsy’s hand resting high on Vince’s thigh. The cold feeling returns, and he spends the rest of the ride looking out the window while Drama hits on Kinsy.
He gets it, then, that some of this stuff is new territory for Vince and E, too. If they’ve only been serious for the past few months, well, it’s not so hard to understand why E’s so tense. Turtle feels bad, for E and for his own role in it all, but he realizes that this is something that had to come up at some point. Maybe it’s better to figure things out now, to figure out whether things can keep up like this forever.
Vince doesn’t fuck her, as far as Turtle can tell, but things are still tense around the house for the next few days. Turtle stays out late on Tuesday with Drama, then eases back into house, hoping Vince and E are already curled up in their beds, or Vince’s bed, or whatever. Instead he sees the blue flicker of the television on in the living room, and he goes in to see which roommate is up late.
Neither, it turns out. They’re crashed out on the couch, E asleep on his back, Vince spread out over him, his head on E’s chest, his arms around him, E’s hand tangled in Vince’s hair, his other hand on Vince’s bare ribcage. Turtle backs out of the room fast and hurries up the stairs. He’s glad they’re getting along again, he tells himself.
To Part 3.
MARCH: Cross-Genre Appeal
Vince’s last movie, Park Place, makes a major dollar debut on DVD and they decide to have a guys’ night to celebrate. Turtle’s not sure what that means; anymore, they’re all guys’ nights, because Vince turns all the girls down, E’s stopped his serial dating, and he and Drama aren’t getting anywhere just as fast as always. But Vince says, “Tonight, guys’ night!” at breakfast so Turtle says he’s down.
They go to a bar that has a moss-covered fountain at one end and a volcano spewing red and orange lights at the other. In between, there are two bars and about two hundred hot shots. They take a table in the middle, a good table, and E goes up to get the first round because he’s lost some kind of bet with Vince.
“Do we want to know?” Turtle asks, and Vince shrugs.
“We had a bet about who could impersonate Lloyd on the phone better,” Vince says. “I got Ari to drive to a meeting at Disneyland that didn’t exist. I win.”
Turtle bumps Vince’s fist. “Nice,” Drama says.
Vince smirks. “What, you think it was a sex thing?”
Turtle shrugs. “Gotta ask,” he says. These days, he feels like that’s true. Vince and E have always had their own stuff going on - the business side of things that Turtle never gets too worked up over, because everything always works out - but now, when he sees them talking quietly at the edge of a crowd, he wonders what’s going on. He wonders which separate life they’re talking about.
The next round is on Vince, and then Drama buys because he wants to toast his own success - he helped a woman win $46,000 on Squares that day - and then it’s Turtle’s turn, and then they go ‘round again. They talk like the old times: stories from home, the recent gossip from around town, girls they all know and have seen recently. When the volcano starts to look real, E suggests they head home, and Turtle agrees. “Good night,” he says, tapping E’s arm as they wait for the car.
“Yeah, it was,” he says. “That place is kinda weird, huh?”
“Little bit,” Turtle agrees. “Hey, you wanna go to Max’s, get a bite?”
“Yeah, I could eat,” E says, but Vince shakes his head.
“Let’s go home,” he says. “We’ll get pizza. Johnny, where can we get pizza right now?”
“I know just the place,” he says, and starts dialing.
Ten minutes after they get home, two huge pies are delivered. Drama brings them outside, where Turtle’s settled in on the deck. E and Vince bring out cold beers for everyone and hand them off, then Vince sits up on the railing, and E leans beside him. Drama takes the chair next to Turtle. It’s a beautiful night, just a small breeze, the air warm, the sky clear. A good time had by all. No girls, no girlfriends, nothing in the way. Turtle lights up. He passes the joint to Drama while he gets a piece of pizza, and when he looks up E’s passing it to Vince. His hand snags around Vince’s wrist for a moment while he takes a drag.
“So what are you guys?” Turtle asks, sitting back in his lounge chair.
“What?” E asks, exhaling a burst of smoke.
Turtle waves his hand between them. “Your deal. Like, are you, what, boyfriends?”
“I believe the politically correct term is partners,” Drama says, holding the joint. He sparks the end and takes a long drag.
Vince is just exhaling his, and he coughs at the end of it and grabs E’s shoulder. E is still looking at Turtle. “Partners?” Turtle asks.
Drama exhales. “Lovers?”
“Jesus,” E says. Turtle blows a couple smoke rings his way. “Why you asking, Turtle?”
“Just curious,” he says. “Like if you were going to tell someone, what would you say? This is Vince, my -” he can’t make himself say lover. “My partner?”
“That sounds like we’re in business together,” Vince says.
“We are,” E answers shortly.
“Come on,” Turtle says. “Vince, how would you introduce E?”
“It would depend on who I was talking to,” Vince says, shrugging.
“Say Ari,” Turtle says.
Vince rolls his eyes. “Ari, this is Eric, my manager and your worst nightmare.”
“No, I mean, like -”
“I know what you mean,” Vince says. “But I haven’t thought about it, really. I’ve never had to introduce him.”
“Nobody knows but you guys,” E says. When he shrugs, his shoulder brushes Vince’s arm, and Vince shifts in closer to him. “And I can’t imagine saying ‘Hey, douche-bag, meet my boyfriend.’”
Turtle winces. “Fuck, that sounds wrong,” he says. “E’s boyfriend. Nope, doesn’t work.”
Drama’s chewing thoughtfully on his piece of pepperoni. “The question is, what would it be in your usual relationship? If you’d been with a girl this long -”
“If E’d been with a girl for fifteen years, he’d be calling her Mrs. Murphy,” Turtle says. Drama and Vince laugh, and even E shakes his head.
“Yeah, where’s my ring?” Vince asks, elbowing E in the ribs. “Get me something nice.”
“I’ll put it on your credit card,” E says.
“Wait, which one of you is the girl?” Turtle asks, sitting up.
This time, both Vince and E speak together. “What?”
Turtle shakes his head. “One of you’s the girl, right? That’s how it works with gay guys, I saw it on TV.”
“You watch gay TV?” Drama asks.
“So do you, dickhead, unless your L Word box set doesn’t count.”
“I’m not a girl,” Vince says.
“I can vouch for that,” E says. He crosses his arms and waves off the joint when Vince offers it. “No one’s the girl, Christ, Turtle. Have some class.”
Turtle shrugs. “I’m just sayin’ what I’ve seen, man. That’s the way it works.” He takes a bite of pizza. It’s good, gooey and greasy with not too much oregano in the sauce. “You guys are gonna be gay, you ought to know this stuff.”
Vince flings his arm back and the joint goes flying. Turtle sits up to protest. “No one’s gay,” Vince says. “What is your deal?”
“Uh, yeah, you’re fucking a guy,” Turtle says.
“Unless there’s something we don’t know about E,” Drama says, and they both look over at him.
“Fuck you,” E says.
“I mean, you have sex, right? I’m not just imagining that?”
“You’re imagining us having sex?” E says. “This gets weirder all the time.”
“I think Turtle’s asking a valid question,” Drama says.
“I need another beer,” Vince says. He hops off the rail and walks inside. Turtle leans in, looks up at E.
“C’mon,” he says. “What’s the story? Vince is just gay for you?”
E shrugs. “Not just me,” he says. “I didn’t turn him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“There were other guys?” Drama asks. “Jesus, my baby brother, a fag.”
“Don’t fucking say that,” E hisses. “Fuck, Drama. He’s not - neither one of us - it’s not like that, OK?”
Turtle shakes his head, trying to clear it, trying to get a hold on things. “But, so, what, you have sex, right? I mean, like gay sex.”
E rubs his face. “Now I’m gonna need another beer.”
“What, like you haven’t told us every detail of your sex life with every girl since Sarah Coleman jacked you off in sixth grade?”
“She was hot,” Drama says, and Turtle rolls his eyes.
“She was 10 and you were like 47,” he says. “E. I’m just trying to get my head around this. You guys chased girls our whole life, and now you like cock?”
E looks like he wants to crawl over the railing, but Turtle knows him, knows he won’t just cut and run. This is E; he’d throw a punch before he’d storm out.
“I like cock.”
Turtle’s head whips around, which is an unfortunate move that unleashes some kind of blurry earthquake on the deck. When he can focus again, he sees Vince standing in the doorway, holding a glass of water, looking at E. “That’s what you’re asking, right?” Vince says. He walks over and sits on the end of Drama’s lounge chair, folds his legs up Indian-style. “I like it. In general, I like sex, and I like having sex with guys. Gay sex, Turtle, any way you’re thinking about that. I don’t know what that makes me. I haven’t done it a lot - not nearly as much as with women - but yeah. Yeah.”
Turtle waits, expecting someone to fill the silence, waiting for Vince to laugh and say gotcha. He waits, and waits, and then he clears his throat. “Since when?” Turtle asks.
Vince shrugs. “Middle school, high school,” he says. “I traded blow jobs with Finn McBeal while we were at that summer acting camp.”
“Jesus, I hate that story,” E says.
Vince laughs. “And don’t worry, Turtle, I have specific tastes. You aren’t on the list.”
Turtle rolls his eyes, but it makes him feel better, somehow. He wants to believe that Vince hasn’t been looking. He turns to E. “What about you, then, E? Secret summer camp rendezvous?” E shrugs. “C’mon, Vince likes cock and you don’t?”
“I like Vince’s cock,” he says. “I haven’t tried any others.”
“That’s my boy,” Drama says, patting Vince on the shoulder. “That’s like cross-genre appeal.”
Vince snickers, and then so does E, and Turtle isn’t exactly sure what’s funny but he laughs, too, and leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. He feels his chair move a little and cracks an eye to see E sitting on the end, drinking from Vince’s water glass.
“Man, guys’ night is just fucked forever,” he says, but no one seems to hear him.
APRIL: Hollywood Stuff
In April, Turtle’s downtown picking up the latest Madden when he sees Cathy, the girl from Trivial Pursuit night. She looks him over and shakes her head. “You never called,” she says.
Turtle nods. “I - some stuff happened,” he says. “Believe me when I say it had nothing to do with you.”
“I believe you,” she says, smirking. “Still, it’s too bad.”
“Isn’t it,” Turtle says.
They have drinks that night and go back to her place. For a girl who only gave him her number last time, she’s very eager: they go right to the bedroom. Turtle can’t believe his luck, and mentions it afterwards, when he’s lying next to her, sharing a skinny joint.
“Well, your friend was a little much,” she says. She giggles. “But if you want to double, my friend Alice is pretty hard up at the moment.”
Turtle laughs. “Let’s keep it you and me, for now.”
Two nights later he puts on his good hat - limited edition red Yanks cap, from the World Series - and takes her to a diner in Pasadena that serves sausage like those back home. He has a good time, a good meal, a good smoke, and he gets laid. The fucking perfect night.
“She is real, right?” E says when Turtle rolls in the next morning. “There’s no air valve in the back?”
“Yeah, I got a real girl, E,” Turtle says. “Remember what they’re like? With the tits and pussy?”
Drama snorts. Vince looks genuinely proud of him. “Hey, come on, guys,” he says. “Turtle’s got a girl, we should be happy.”
“So when do we get to meet her?” Drama asks. “And what about her friend?”
“I dunno, how about tomorrow night?” Turtle says. “We could hit LAX.”
“Aw, I hate that place,” E bitches. “Fucking meat market.”
“But not a bad DJ,” Drama says, and Turtle has to agree.
Vince turns to E, and they seem to have some kind of strange silent conversation. Then E shrugs and says, “Fine, whatever,” and Vince grins.
“So let’s go,” Vince says. “Turtle, give her a call?”
So the next night they meet up at LAX. Cathy brings a couple of friends, and they’re all wearing the college girl clubbing uniform: insanely tiny black skirts, shiny halter tops that barely hold their tits in place, makeup like they’re going on stage. Even Cathy, who had on jeans and green Converse sneakers the last time he saw her, is all dressed up. He’s not sure whether to cheer or start worrying; when he watches her grin expand nearly to breaking as he introduces Vince, he gets a pretty good idea.
But this, at least, he’s used to. It’s been hard to hold a girl’s attention with Vince in the room since they were 13. Turtle doesn’t take it personally, and somehow knowing that Vince isn’t interested really helps. Cathy sits next to him at the table, not Vince, and after a while she seems to get a little bored with just staring at him while he talks to E, and then Turtle gets his date back. That serves him just fine. But Cathy’s friends don’t take the hint so easily. When Turtle gets up to dance with Cathy, he sees Vince on the dance floor with Heather. They cut out after a while to get refills, and Cathy says, “I think my friend likes your friend.”
He follows her eyes to where Vince is talking to Heather at the table. Heather’s hands are on Vince’s arm, and Turtle can guess exactly how good his view of her tits is. Next to Vince, E’s staring at the dance floor. His arms are crossed, his eyes half-closed. To most people, he’d probably just look bored, but Turtle picks up on the annoyance - probably anger - from the bar. He shakes his head. “Trust me,” he says, “she’s got no chance.”
Cathy looks instantly offended. “Hey,” Turtle says, trying to soothe her, “I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with her, I mean, she’s totally hot. It’s just Vin -” and he stops, because he realizes, suddenly, that the truth isn’t an option. Vince and E’s secret is now his secret, too. “He’s seeing someone,” Turtle says, not looking at E.
Cathy’s eyebrows go up. “Oo, really? Is he back with Mandy Moore?”
“Uh,” Turtle says. If only it were that simple, he thinks. “You know, I really, I shouldn’t say any more. Hollywood stuff, you know.” Cathy smiles and nods, like she does know. Like Turtle’s actually talking about something.
Cathy’s friends decide to cut out around midnight, and Turtle lets her go. He can’t exactly invite her back to Vince’s place, after all. Once they leave, he takes a seat next to E, who looks truly bored, now. Vince is dancing again, and Turtle watches E not watching him and shakes his head.
“Man, I’m ready when you are,” he says, and E sits up.
“Thank fucking god,” he says. “Get Vince, will you? I’ll get the car.”
On the ride home the guys agree that Cathy’s hot and that her friends are kind of dull, which is nice cover for Drama, who struck out with all of them. “That Heather girl, though, she sort of had her eye on you, huh?” Turtle says to Vince.
Vince laughs and stretches his arms across the back of the seat, his knuckles brushing Drama’s shoulder. “More than just her eyes,” he says. “Those things were real, by the way.”
E, in the driver’s seat, shakes his head. “Keep talking, Romeo,” he says.
Vince laughs and sits forward, his hands sliding around the seat and landing on E’s chest. “Don’t worry, baby, the only tits I want are yours.”
“I’ll crash the fucking car, Vince, I swear,” E says.
“Please do,” Drama says. “If I hit my head hard enough, maybe that image will get driven out.”
The next morning, Turtle wakes up to E pounding on his door. “Get your ass out here right the fuck now,” he shouts.
“All right, all right,” he says. The clock reads 9 a.m., way too fucking early for E to be mad at him. He tries to remember what he might have done yesterday to incur the wrath - did he forget to put Arnie’s toys back in the box? Suddenly he can’t remember if he let Arnie out after they came home. “Shit,” he says, thinking that probably literally sums up the problem. He pulls on a shirt, brushes his teeth, and stumbles down to the kitchen.
E’s pacing in front of the island, holding his cell phone. To say he looks pissed would be like saying Ari looks busy. That’s not what makes Turtle’s stomach drop, though. Vince is sitting at the table, following E with his eyes. When he looks up at Turtle, he frowns. “The fuck did you tell her?” E asks.
“Tell who what?” Turtle asks. He walks in, carefully, and puts both hands on the island countertop. “What’s going on?”
“Your girlfriend talked to TMZ,” he says. “They’re saying Vince and Mandy are back together, that they’re having some kind of secret romance.”
“What?” Turtle looks from E’s furious face to Vince’s serious expression. “Jesus,” he says. “Look - Cathy was talking about how Heather wanted to hook up with Vince, and I said she didn’t have a chance, that he was involved with somebody. And then she asked if it was Mandy, and I -” Oh, he thinks, realizing his mistake. He shrugs. “I didn’t say no, exactly, I guess.” He turns to Vince. “I was just trying to get her off your back!”
Vince rolls his eyes. “I can handle myself,” he says.
“Unlike you,” E says. “You haven’t learned anything? About keeping your fucking mouth shut around groupies?”
“Hey, that’s bullshit,” Turtle says. “Look, I messed up a little, but I didn’t do anything that bad. She brought that Mandy shit up on her own. And what’s the fucking big deal, anyway?”
“The big deal is it isn’t true,” E mutters.
“So? Neither is half the stuff they put up,” Turtle says. He gives up on E. “Look, Vince, I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I didn’t mean to lead her to some weird conclusion. I just didn’t want her getting the wrong - well, the right idea.”
Vince nods, after a minute, a slow apologetic nod. “It’s fine,” he says, and E huffs. “E, come on, he didn’t mean anything.” E shrugs. “OK?”
“Fine,” he says, and Vince nods again.
Vince stands up, claps E on the shoulder, then Turtle. “Now, if this crisis is over for the moment, I’m going back to bed.”
“Get a shower, instead,” E says. “We’ve got Ari at 11.”
“Fuck.” Vince sighs, then walks out of the kitchen.
Turtle releases the death grip he’s got on the counter. E’s staring at his cell phone, clicking through messages or something. “Are we cool?” Turtle asks.
E shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, not looking up.
“Hey,” Turtle says. “Jesus, E. I don’t even - is this even about Vince’s career? Or are you mad that someone’s saying your boy’s getting it on with someone else?”
E laughs, that tiny empty humorless laugh that means Turtle’s really in trouble. “You’re right, it’s just me overreacting,” he says. “You fucking prick. You told that girl he’s having a secret relationship, and now people are going to be looking.” He crosses his arms. “Turtle, I work every day to keep this quiet. Do you get that? Nobody gets to know.”
“I get it,” Turtle says. “Which is why I said Mandy and not you, dickhead.”
E shakes his head. “You don’t get it at all. This isn’t a fucking game.”
Turtle rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man,” he says. He goes back to his own room to shower.
He drives them in to Ari’s after breakfast. E still isn’t really speaking to him, but Vince is fine. Turtle figures that’s all that really matters. Fucking E, always overreacting to everything. So there’s one Web site that thinks Vince is still with Mandy. Who cares? It’s probably actually good cover, for Vince and E. The farther away from the kitchen talk they get, the more pleased Turtle is with his quick cover - though not so pleased that he’ll answer Cathy’s call, when it comes in on the way to Ari’s. Girls who talk to the press don’t get to hang around.
“E, get the fuck in here, you little cocksucker!” Ari greets them, his face red, angry, and Turtle flinches. He takes a seat in the reception area while Vince and E go into Ari’s office and close the door. Shauna’s already in there. Through the glass, Turtle watches Ari and Shauna lecturing E - and maybe even Vince - the whole time, and he starts to wonder exactly what might be going on in there. Does Ari really know? If he’s calling E a cocksucker - Fuck, Turtle thinks, because no way will Vince forgive him for this. Not that he’ll have the chance, because E will fucking murder him.
He doesn’t even wait until they’re in the car, just mutters to E as they approach the elevator, “Does Ari know?”
E glances over. “You kidding? You would’ve seen the mushroom cloud,” he says, and Turtle feels relieved.
It turns out the lecture from Ari was Mandy-related, though, and things are tense at lunch. Drama joins them, and Turtle’s pretty fucking glad. Vince and E sit on opposite sides of the table and barely talk. That’s unusual; though they’re careful not to touch in public, they usually don’t shut up, particularly after meetings. But the silence is long and certain, and Turtle tries once to ask what’s going on and gets only a glare from E. After that, he leads Drama into a long talk about his career prospects that gets comment, at least, from Vince.
Things are quiet again on the way back, and Turtle ducks immediately into the den once they’re home in order to avoid having to talk to E. He puts in Madden and plays for a few hours, then ventures out for dinner. He grabs some cold pizza from the fridge, then goes to the living room, seeing E and Vince talking on the deck. Neither of them looks particularly happy, and though Turtle feels like maybe he should run away, he decides he’ll have to face the music sometime. He settles in with the remote and waits. Vince comes back in after a few moments, looking sort of pissed off, and sits on the couch near Turtle.
“Uh, what’s up?” Turtle asks, noticing E’s still outside.
“Nothing much,” Vince says. “Just E’s being a dick.”
“Huh,” Turtle says. He wants to make a joke, but he can’t figure out what to say. He’s not sure how their relationship works, whether it would be funny or offensive to suggest that Vince just cut E off. So instead he stays quiet while Vince fidgets, crossing and uncrossing his arms, staring at the TV but really looking over at the deck every few minutes. Turtle misses, suddenly and completely, the days when all of Vince’s flings were casual, when the only thing Vince brooded over was business, when Turtle was never expected to really say more than, “Well, fuck that, man.”
Finally E walks back in, phone in hand. He looks angry and mean, and Turtle suddenly gets a cold feeling in his stomach like when he’d hear his parents fight as a kid. “Are we going to talk about this?” E asks, holding open the door.
“Talk here,” Vince says. E rolls his eyes. “You just don’t want an audience because you don’t want anyone else to see what a jackass you’re being.”
“I’m a jackass, right,” E says. He crosses his arms.
“What’s going on?” Turtle asks.
E keeps his arms crossed tight. “After your little line at the club, Shauna says it’s important that Vince is seen without Mandy. So he’s going to the Zydeco premiere later this week.”
“Yeah? I heard that movie’s smokin’, man,” Turtle says. “With Alyssa Milano and that new girl, the model?”
“Kinsy Carver,” E says. “Who also happens to be Vince’s date.”
Turtle glances at Vince, who is leaning back as far as he can into the couch. “You’re banging Kinsy Carver?”
E snorts and Vince says, “No. No. We’re just going to the premiere. It’s not a date, it’s a fucking publicity stunt.”
“Because that’s how it always works,” E says, and Vince looks at Turtle.
“You get this, don’t you?”
Turtle looks from E to Vince. “Actually, man, I kinda gotta side with E on this one,” he says, and Vince’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, but you earned that reputation.”
“Exactly,” E says. “Exactly. When was the last time you went out with a girl and didn’t end up fucking her at the end of the night?”
Vince sighs. “E, you have to trust me,” he says. “I’m not going to fuck her. I’m not going to fuck anyone, OK, anyone but you.” Turtle winces, but he’s pretty sure neither of them sees it. “Shauna says I should do this, and you know she’s right,” Vince says. He stands up and walks over and puts his hands on E’s biceps. Turtle looks at the TV, but he can still see them out of the corner of his eye, can’t miss it when Vince pulls E closer or when E nods, then laughs a little at something Vince is saying. Turtle ducks his head and angles his hat when he sees Vince’s head start to bend down, and he almost can’t even hear them kiss over the noise from the television.
They go to the premiere as a group and pick up Kinsy Carver on the way, from her hotel. She slides in next to Vince and cuddles up to him, which is nice because it gives Turtle a great view of her tits. He looks up to give E a wink and notices the careful blankness of his face, looks down to see Kinsy’s hand resting high on Vince’s thigh. The cold feeling returns, and he spends the rest of the ride looking out the window while Drama hits on Kinsy.
He gets it, then, that some of this stuff is new territory for Vince and E, too. If they’ve only been serious for the past few months, well, it’s not so hard to understand why E’s so tense. Turtle feels bad, for E and for his own role in it all, but he realizes that this is something that had to come up at some point. Maybe it’s better to figure things out now, to figure out whether things can keep up like this forever.
Vince doesn’t fuck her, as far as Turtle can tell, but things are still tense around the house for the next few days. Turtle stays out late on Tuesday with Drama, then eases back into house, hoping Vince and E are already curled up in their beds, or Vince’s bed, or whatever. Instead he sees the blue flicker of the television on in the living room, and he goes in to see which roommate is up late.
Neither, it turns out. They’re crashed out on the couch, E asleep on his back, Vince spread out over him, his head on E’s chest, his arms around him, E’s hand tangled in Vince’s hair, his other hand on Vince’s bare ribcage. Turtle backs out of the room fast and hurries up the stairs. He’s glad they’re getting along again, he tells himself.
To Part 3.