A Starr is Born

by Ryan Field

  “I’m posting a selfie of us in bed,” Harrison said, while his index finger navigated his phone screen so fast Morton didn’t get a chance to object.

  “Give me that phone,” Morton said. He pulled the phone out of Harrison’s hand. “I don’t want the whole world seeing us in bed.”

  Harrison laughed. “It’s too late. I already posted it in three different places. Wait until Sam sees it. He’ll love it. He’s been hocking me to do more sexy selfies.”

  “Are you crazy?” He reached for his own phone and did a quick search for one of Harrison’s accounts on social media, and when Harrison’s homepage came up on the screen he saw a photo of them in bed. That’s how fast it posted. Even though the bedding covered their private parts, it was obvious they were both naked. Their hair was sticking up all over, but their faces were glowing and it looked as if they’d been having a very good time.

  “Let me see how it came out,” Harrison said. He took the phone from Morton and checked out the photo. “Not bad. I look a little worn out, but you look fantastic. They’ll love this.”

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Morton said. “Last night the world suspected I was a slut, now they’re going to be certain I’m a slut. How could you do this to me?” He really was upset. He thought Harrison had crossed a line with that last selfie. He wouldn’t have done it to Harrison.

  “It’s no big deal,” Harrison said. “Everyone does it. It’s how people get attention on the Internet. And everyone loves it. This is how you stay relevant. People don’t want to admit it, but they’re all dirty. They all have dirty minds, they think about sex all the time, and they all love seeing two good looking men in bed.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Morton said. “You’re the stud. You’re the big strong guy with the beard. I’m the one who’s going to be called the young slut in bed with Harrison Parker.”

  “Then there’s only one thing left for me to do,” Harrison said. He reached back and leaned over the side of the bed. He’d left his leather jacket on the floor the night before and he pulled something out of the pocket.

  “What are you talking about now?” Morton asked. He’d put both phones on the night stand next to his side of the bed so Harrison couldn’t take any more nude selfies of them. He wasn’t angry with him and he knew Harrison was right about remaining relevant, but he drew the line at more than one bed selfie a day.

  Harrison handed him a small box and said, “This is what I’m talking about. Open it.”

  Morton took the small box and lifted the lid. He found a thick platinum diamond wedding band and he pressed his palm to his throat.

  “Marry me,” Harrison said. “Be my husband.”

  “Are you serious?” Morton asked. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Harrison.

  “Of course I’m serious,” Harrison said. “I bought two matching rings yesterday and I wanted to surprise you, but I guess this is as good a time as any. Marry me and I’ll make an honest man out of you, and no one will ever call you a slut again. You can’t be a slut if the naked selfies are with your husband.”

  “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. It must have cost a fortune.” Large diamonds circled the entire band, so vibrant they even glistened with the dim lighting in his bedroom that morning. And it fit perfectly on his ring finger.

  “Will you marry me? I have it all planned. We leave this afternoon.”

  He put the ring on his finger and turned to face him. “Of course I’ll marry you.” Then he jumped on top of him and pinned him to the bed this time.

  * * *

  Apparently, Harrison had been planning all this for a few days. Sam knew about it, too, and he hadn’t said anything to anyone. They wanted to surprise Morton, and they wanted to milk the surprise angle as much as they could on social media. Morton didn’t mind the publicity part. He was a performer and he totally understood the need to remain relevant. His dads would have been the first ones to do something like this if they’d had social media during their time. This surprise marriage would be good publicity for Harrison for a change. Up until now all of his publicity had been about getting drunk, getting into fights, and not showing up on time for anything. Marrying someone like Morton would soften Harrison’s image a little. And it certainly couldn’t hurt Morton’s career.

  Although Morton didn’t get a chance to plan one single thing about his own wedding, he didn’t mind because everything Harrison did was so different and special. That same afternoon they drove to the small airport in New Jersey and boarded Harrison’s private jet. From there, they flew to Burlington, Vermont. Harrison had a car waiting for them in Burlington that drove them north to a small town near the border of Canada that was so remote it didn’t even have its own supermarket. It was so far north Morton noticed Moose Crossing signs on the side of the road, and everywhere he looked he saw the most adorable covered bridges stippled in between old farms and churches.

  Harrison said he’d planned it this way because he’d gone skiing not far from this little town once, and he knew it was easy to get married there. There was no long waiting period. All they had to do was sign a few documents and get married the very next day. It all happened so fast Morton felt his world spinning around him, but he knew he was doing the right thing every time he looked at Harrison. He knew in his heart and in his soul this was the man with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. In fact, he didn’t have one single doubt about that.

  When they arrived in Vermont they filled out the paperwork and checked in to a small room at a bed and breakfast down the street. The next morning they were married in some kind of small municipal building in the center of town by a judge in his 70s who wore suspenders and fishing boots. It smelled of old paper and wood, and the worn wooden floors looked if they’d been swept the old fashioned way with sawdust. They wore black suits with white shirts and no ties and one of the clerks took photos of them to share with the world on Harrison’s phone. The entire ceremony was as simple and plain as the northern New England countryside and the clapboard buildings on Main Street.

  When the ceremony was over they went back to the small bed and breakfast called The Northern Swan where Harrison had another surprise. He’d booked an entire guest house for their wedding night. He claimed that one small room wasn’t special enough. He wanted the entire building that night. They’d posted their wedding photos on social media by then and they were trending all over the world again. Morton expected this to happen. It wasn’t every day one of the most prominent male rock stars in the world married another man. Just the gay, same sex marriage angle alone was remarkable. He just felt sorry for the owners of the bed and breakfast because the minute the news hit social media they started getting phone calls and messages from the media asking all kinds of questions. Harrison had paid them well, though, and he promised they’d be gone by the following morning. The only thing he wanted that night was to be alone with his husband and forget about the rest of the world. And the owners did everything they could do to honor his request.

  The building that Harrison had rented for the night was actually a renovated barn the owners of the bed and breakfast used as five private rooms. Harrison had rented the entire building because he didn’t want any other guests around them that night. As they crossed from the main house to the barn, he said, “I hope you like it. It’s not the best hotel in New York, but it’s quiet and no one will disturb us.”

  “I love it,” Morton said. “I love everything about this place. I love the town, and I love the people here. I want to come back here someday when we’re old and remember this day all over again.” Up until that day, he’d only thought places like this existed in Hallmark Christmas movies. There were half whiskey barrels overflowing with annuals in reds, and blues and pinks, and purples. One entire wall of the exterior of the barn was completely covered with the most expansive collection of birdhouses Morton had ever seen. There was an old Model T Ford on one section of the property, every building was surroun
ded with a white picket fence, and he could see a white gazebo in the distance that was surrounded by a garden filled with bright red roses.

  When they entered the renovated barn where they would spend their wedding night, Morton’s gaze went directly to a large walk-in fireplace where someone had already lit a roaring fire. For a moment, he felt as though he’d stepped into a Hallmark movie. But it wasn’t the fire that caught his eye. There was a medium sized dog lying next to the fire with a startled expression. The dog had a brilliant red coat and large brown eyes. He barked once, and Morton turned to Harrison. “What’s that all about?” He figured maybe it was the owners’ dog.

  “I hope you like dogs,” Harrison said.

  “I love dogs. I had a dog when I was a kid who never left my side.”

  Harrison took a deep breath and exhaled. “Oh, thank God. I wasn’t sure. He’s for you. His name is Nico. I hadn’t planned it, but when I was checking in the owners of the bed and breakfast told me about this older woman in town who recently passed away. Nico was her dog and the owners of this place have been taking care of him temporarily. He’s a Moyen poodle who’s only nine months old. He’s got papers and everything.”

  “What’s a Moyen poodle?” Morton asked.

  “Beats the shit out of me,” Harrison said. “I think it’s a medium-sized poodle in French. Not too big, and not too small. When the owners told me they were re-homing Nico because they couldn’t keep him with their cats, I decided he would be perfect for you, so I adopted him. Think of him as a wedding present. Besides, the poor thing needs a home. He’s a rescue with nowhere to go. And I couldn’t think of a better home than with us.”

  Nico barked again and Morton threw his arms around Harrison’s shoulders. “It’s the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me, and nothing at all can ever top this.”

  Harrison smiled. “I did good?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Morton said. “You did very good.” Then he crossed to the fireplace to sit down beside Nico. “He’s beautiful, Harrison. I just feel guilty because I don’t have anything for you.”

  “You didn’t know I was going to do this. Don’t worry about it.”

  As Morton reached out to pet the top of Nico’s head, the puppy recoiled a little, but he didn’t growl or snarl. He was obviously apprehensive with a strange new person and he wanted to see if he could trust Morton first.

  “Don’t worry, Nico,” Morton said. “You’re safe. I’m going to take good care of you. You’re never going to have to worry about anything again as long as you’re with me.”

  A minute after that, Nico got up from the pillow and slowly walked over to sniff Morton’s legs. Morton remained still and he waited. When Nico finally looked up at him and wagged his tail, Morton turned to Harrison and said, “Look. He’s wagging his tail. I think he likes me.”

  But Harrison wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at his phone and pouring himself a glass of vodka. It was a large glass, the way other people pour glasses of water. As far as Morton knew, Harrison hadn’t had a drink in days, so Morton didn’t say anything. Of course it didn’t make him smile to see Harrison drinking again, but he didn’t want to ruin their wedding night by questioning Harrison’s drinking, and it had been a busy couple of days. He shifted his gaze back to Nico and reached out to put his arms around him. This time Nico didn’t recoil or flinch once. He rested in Morton’s arms as if they’ve known each other forever.

  “Harrison, come over here and take a few selfies of us with Nico,” Morton said. “People love to see dog photos, and I want everyone to see the wonderful wedding present you gave me.”

  Harrison was pouring another glass of vodka. Evidently, he finished the first one and needed another. He said, “I’ll be right there, cutie,” and Morton looked down at Nico and whispered, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day after the wedding a car picked them up at the bed and breakfast in Vermont and drove them back to Burlington where Harrison’s jet was waiting for them at the airport. Morton made them stop along the way so that he could go to at a pet center and pick up a few things for Nico. Harrison was always generous to a fault when it came to giving the right gifts, and giving Nico as a wedding gift was the most wonderful gift anyone had ever given Morton. But Harrison could also be totally clueless when it came to the reality of certain situations. He never planned ahead for anything. He failed to realize that a dog needs food, bowls, a bed and other incidentals. If it had been up to Harrison, Nico would have been eating fast food take out like the rest of Harrison’s band members.

  Of course Morton didn’t mind in the least, and as long as he knew how to handle the realities and the small details for both of them he knew they would be okay. He was coming to realize that Harrison had a good deal to learn about being married, and his drinking and drug use kept Morton awake at night tossing and turning. Morton was determined that he could change Harrison. They were in love and Morton believed love would never fail them.

  When they boarded the private jet in Burlington, Morton found it amusing that Nico went right over to the new black tufted doggie bed and found a comfortable position. It was as though Nico had been with them for years instead of a day. He settled into that doggie bed better than Morton settled into his soft leather seat. Morton had only flown commercial until he’d met Harrison, and it still made him feel peculiar to know he was now flying the world in a private jet just like the people he’d seen on TV.

  He thought they were going back to New York. “I guess I should start clearing out my apartment today,” Morton said. They were about to take off and Harrison was sitting across from him on the other side of the jet. “I’m going to have to rent it out to someone. I can’t bring myself to sell it. That apartment has been in our family since before I was born.”

  Harrison was looking as his phone. Without looking up, he said, “We’re not going back to New York.”

  “We’re not?” This was news to Morton.

  “We’re heading out west,” Harrison said. “I have a place in Palm Springs. I’m playing Coachella next week and there’s no point in going back to New York now. We might as well be in Palm Springs as a makeshift honeymoon. You’ll love it.”

  “Palm Springs? California?”

  Harrison glanced up from his phone and smiled at him. “Yeah, I have a little place out there. Have you been there before?”

  Morton shook his head. “I’ve never been west of Philadelphia. My two dads traveled the drag circuit up and down the east coast. I’ve been from Miami Beach to Maine, but anything west of Philly is like Russia to me.”

  “You’ll love it,” Harrison said. “And we’ll have a little time to rehearse, too.”

  “Rehearse for what?”

  “You were such a huge hit the other night at the concert that Sam’s arranged it for you to headline with me at Coachella. We’re going to be performing together.”

  Morton felt a rumble in his stomach. “I wish someone had told me about this first. This is big. Coachella is one of the biggest events in music all year. I’m not ready for that kind of an audience. Not to mention that I have to call people and let them know where I am. I have to cancel a few engagements. And I don’t have anything to wear to perform. I only packed enough for a weekend in Vermont.”

  Harrison laughed and waved his hand. “You’ll be fine. And I’ll be right there with you on stage. As for the other things, you can do all that when you get to the house in Palm Springs. I’m sure you can find something in Palm Springs to wear on stage, and if you can’t, we’ll drive up to L.A. and shop there.”

  Morton grabbed the arms of his seat to brace for takeoff. He’d never liked flying, especially taking off and landing. “Well, as long as you’ll be up there with me, I guess it’s okay. But I want to take all this slowly. And I’m not sure I even want to go mainstream.”

  Harrison was looking at his phone again. He glanced up for a split second and said, “It’s too lat
e for that now. You already have.”

  Morton sat back and took a deep breath. He couldn’t deny going mainstream as a performer was something he’d always worked for. If his two dads could see him now they’d be calling all their friends and booking flights to Palm Springs so they could see him perform at Coachella. It’s just that it all seemed to be happening so fast Morton didn’t have time to process everything. He liked to plan ahead, to compartmentalize his life, and to expect certain things. This is why anyone who had ever worked with him usually made snide comments behind his back. He was so detail oriented and so strict about rehearsing his act, he expected the same perfection from everyone else and it didn’t always work out that way. It’s not that he was bossy. He just knew what he was doing. All those years watching his dads rehearse and perform, listening to them talking about technical things like lighting and projection, and how to stand in the correct spot on stage, had sunk into his mind so deeply he couldn’t erase it if he tried. And when he rehearsed for a performance, he plunged into every single detail until his act was perfect. This is what gave him a sense of security and eased all of his anxiety. Everything seemed so carefree and unplanned with Harrison he wasn’t sure what to expect next.

  Of course it didn’t help when the small jet landed a few hours later and Morton glanced out the window and saw they were in a place called Kingman, Arizona. “What are we doing here?” he asked. Harrison had taken a nap and he’d just opened his eyes. “I thought we were going to Palm Springs.”

  Harrison yawned and stretched his arms and legs. “I want you to see something. It’s amazing. You haven’t lived until you’ve experience the desert first hand. And you can’t to that from a plane. Palm Springs is about four hours from here.”

  “What now? Are we taking a donkey to Palm Springs?” By that point he couldn’t be sure of anything with Harrison.

  Harrison unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth. Then he stood up and said, “No, we’re not taking a donkey, but that’s not a bad idea now that you mention it.”