A Starr is Born

by Ryan Field

  Morton threw his arms in the air. “I’m joking. I’m just joking.”

  Harrison turned toward the exit door and said, “C’mon, let’s go. There’s a car waiting outside.”

  Morton stood up and called for Nico. The moment Morton said his name, Nico jumped up from the pillow and ran toward him. He’d slept the entire time and Morton couldn’t believe how well-behaved he was for a new dog. And he was still technically a puppy. Morton bent down to give him a hug and said, “Look, Harrison. He’s so excited he can’t wait to come with us.” He kissed Nico on the top of his head. “I’ll get your new leash and my luggage and we’re all set.”

  “There’s no need,” Harrison said. “Sam arranged everything. After we get off, the plane will go to Palm Springs and my property manager will meet the plane there and get all our luggage and Nico. He’ll bring Nico and the luggage to the house and everything will be all ready by the time we get there.”

  “You want me to leave Nico alone, here on the plane?” Morton grabbed the red poodle and held him even closer, as if daring someone to take him away.

  “He’ll be fine,” Harrison said. “It’s a few hours, and I have a very good property manager who’s never failed me.”

  “Oh no,” Morton said. “I don’t mind leaving my luggage, or anything else. But I’m not leaving Nico. I’m sorry Harrison but this is important to me. I’m responsible for him now, and I don’t take that lightly. I can’t just leave him here on the plane all alone without anyone. He’s coming with me, or I’m not going either.”

  Harrison gazed at the way Morton was holding Nico and he smiled. “Then we’ll take him with us. I guess it can’t hurt.”

  There was one other thing Morton had to mention, just to be sure it was okay. He stood up and pointed to the high-heeled boots he was wearing. “Are these boots okay?” The rest of his outfit was gender neutral: a black T-shirt, jeans and a black leather jacket. He thought nothing of wearing gender bending high heeled boots back in New York, but from what he could see through the window of the jet they were practically in the middle of nowhere.

  Harrison waved him off and said, “You’re fine. And if anyone doesn’t like it, I’ll set them straight.” He made a fist with one hand and punched the palm of his other hand.

  Morton stood up and said, “If you say so.” He’d been more worried about how Harrison felt about the boots. Morton had been crossing gender lines since he was a teenager and he was all too familiar with the way people looked at him and whispered sometimes. He really didn’t care what they thought or said, but he didn’t want to make Harrison uncomfortable with the way he looked.

  He followed Harrison to a black Escalade on the other side of the airport, which seemed to be Harrison’s favorite choice of car. People did stop and gape at them, but not because Morton was wearing boots with high heels. They were staring because Harrison Parker, the famous rock star, was walking through a small airport in Kingman, Arizona in the middle of the day with his new husband who had just posted an almost nude selfie on social media. A few people pointed and murmured to each other. It was all very friendly. The small airport wasn’t mobbed, and most people went back to what they were doing. But a group of bold college age guys met them on the way out the door and asked for autographs and selfies.

  As Morton grabbed Nico’s leash and took a step back so Harrison could pose for selfies with the guys, one guy looked at Morton and said, “What are you doing?” He had that fair-haired all American jock look, with short blond hair, a square jaw and skinny jeans so tight Morton could see the outline of his penis.

  “I figured I’d step back and let you take the pictures.”

  One guy laughed and fist-bumped another.

  The guy with the tight skinny jeans said, “We want you in the picture, too. You just married Harrison Parker, dude.”

  Morton looked at Nico, and Nico barked. So Morton walked over to where they were standing and Harrison put his arm around him and pulled him in closer. One guy took the photo while the other guys stood around them either smiling or making duck faces. Then someone else took that guy’s place so he could take a photo with Harrison and Morton, too. It lasted all off two or three minutes, but it really opened Morton’s perspective for the first time. Last week no one even knew his name, and now they were taking selfies with him and posting them all over the Internet. And what stunned him even more was when the all-American jock guy fist-bumped him and said, “Hot nude pic, dude. I hope we see more nude pics of you. You guys are both hot.”

  A few minutes later when they were in the car and heading toward a desolate road that would take them through the desert, Harrison laughed and said, “You see what I mean? Those guys love you already.”

  Morton was still trying to process it all. “Do you think they were gay?”

  “Who cares?” Harrison said. “They certainly don’t.”

  “I guess you’re right about that,” Morton said. He glanced into the backseat to check on Nico and he’d already found a comfortable place to rest his head. He’d never seen such an agreeable dog. It was almost too good to be true.

  It didn’t take long for Morton to forget all about everything else. He’d never seen the desert and he couldn’t stop gaping at everything they passed. They had only been on the interstate for a short time. Harrison exited in a small town on the state line and they turned onto that two lane road that reminded him of movies and TV shows he’d seen that were shot in the desert. There were no towns, streetlights or strip malls. There were no cross streets or busses or cabs. Except for the occasional passing car or truck, there were no people. Morton had never seen anything like it, and he’d never felt such an amazing sense of isolation. It was peaceful in a healing way and he could see why people who loved the desert spoke of it so highly.

  He wanted to take a few photos on his phone and share them on social media, but he looked down and saw there were no signals and realized he was totally disconnected from the world. “This is amazing,” he said. “I doesn’t even feel like the real world anymore.”

  Harrison reached over and took his hand. “I thought you’d like it. There’s nothing like the desert.”

  “It’s fantastic,” Morton said. He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for everything. I love you so much.”

  “Love you, too, cutie,” Harrison said. “You’re my world now. Nothing else matters.”

  Morton looked out the window again and noticed the sky. It appeared bluer than the sky back east and larger. In the distance he saw rough mountains and ridges in shades of red, brown and tan that had been there for centuries. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and he wondered aloud what it must be like at night when all the stars in the sky were shining.

  Harrison smiled and said, “I’ll take you to Joshua Tree one night. It’s not far from Palm Springs and you can see for yourself.”

  “What’s a Joshua Tree?”

  “It’s kind of a quirky looking tree that bends and flows with the wind, literally and figuratively. It’s not like a normal tree, with green leaves. They call it a tree but it’s really a yucca. It kind of does what it wants and that’s what makes it so beautiful. Some bend and twist, others have branches going in weird directions. They’re very strong and can withstand a lot. Kind of like you in a way.”

  Morton laughed. He’d been called quirky, but never thought of himself as being strong. “Well, I’m not so sure about that.”

  “You’ll see,” Harrison said. “I knew it the minute I saw you.”

  He wasn’t sure what Harrison meant by that, but he didn’t want to ask. So far, they’d been traveling for the better part of the day and Harrison hadn’t had a drink or a taken a drug once. Morton took this as a good sign that maybe things would change and that he could make a difference in Harrison’s life. He glanced back to check on Nico again and smiled. He was still resting on the seat in the same position, but his head was up and he was staring at Morton, as if he’d been waiting for Morton to turn aro
und. The expression on his face suggested that if he could speak he would have smiled and said, “This is really nice. It feels like home.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Morton had always thought of Palm Springs as all desert and palm trees, with sandy landscapes, rocks and stone, and cactus plants everywhere. He soon learned it was like that to a certain extent, but it was also a great deal more than what he’d pictured. The first thing he noticed as they pulled off the interstate were wind turbines. There must have been thousands of pure white wind turbines glistening in the hot desert sun that looked as though they’d been planted in neat rows to resemble a tree farm back east. Harrison told him the wind turbines supplied energy to the entire Coachella Valley and had become a huge tourist attraction. He promised to take Morton to see them up close one afternoon.

  When they entered the city limits of Palm Springs and Morton saw Mt. San Jacinto for the first time he pressed his hand to his chest and gaped at the magnitude of it all. Back east he’d never seen mountains this majestic or vivid and not that close to a city. Harrison told him the Mt. San Jacinto peak was over 10,000 feet high and there was a tram that took tourists over 8,000 feet up. He promised to take Morton there for lunch one afternoon. But the most significant aspect about the San Jacinto Mountains that Morton would soon discover in time was that everywhere he went in Palm Springs they could be viewed.

  As they entered the city limits the desert landscape gave way to sturdy mid-century modern homes with flat roofs and interesting widows. They all had lush green lawns and well executed landscapes. Almost every home was surrounded by a wall of some kind, and almost every wall had vibrant flowering vines from one end to the other. The colors of the flowers and shrubs alone made him feel as though he’d just entered paradise. And when he looked up at the sky, beyond the massive bearded palm trees that lined all the streets in Palm Springs, it was bluer than any sky he’d ever seen.

  They had to cross through downtown Palm Springs to get to Harrison’s house, which Harrison said was located in a neighborhood called The Mesa. As they passed high-end shops and toney restaurants and bars, Morton continued to gaze in silence. Most of the shops had rainbow flags hanging outside. They seemed to have everything in Palm Springs, even corporate fast food places and chain hotels. He’d thought Harrison was taking him to the middle of nowhere and he realized how far off he’d been in thinking this. They even had busses and a convention hall there. And the overall feeling he received was friendly and relaxed. No one seemed to be in a hurry to get anywhere.

  When they reached a small street off the main road, Harrison made a right turn and they entered a narrow neighborhood stippled with a mix of Spanish colonial and mid-century modern homes. Like the rest of Palm Springs, all the homes had privacy walls with flowering vines, palm trees and lush green landscapes, which made it difficult to see any of the homes in detail. The neighborhood itself felt expensive, and the cars parked in the driveways were the most well-made European cars sold. The homes weren’t overly grand, though, and they’d all been built close together in a comfortable way, so he figured Harrison’s house would be pretty much the same.

  Then Harrison started to climb a steep, narrow road that wound around the base of a ridge that was part of the mountains. When he reached the top of the ridge, there was a gate and he lowered the window to punch a code into a key pad to open the gate.

  As they crossed through the tall iron gate, Morton asked, “How far away are we?”

  Harrison smiled. “We’re here.” He gestured to a group of Spanish colonial buildings, with one grand Spanish colonial mansion. “There it is. Home sweet home.”

  “You own all this?” So much for the modest house he’d been expecting.

  “We own all this,” Harrison said. “We’re married now and half is yours.” He laughed and corrected himself. “Well, the bank owns a good chunk, too.”

  “I’ve never seen anything so wonderful,” Morton said. “All the homes we passed in this neighborhood are fantastic and I would have been thrilled with any of those. But this is breathtaking.”

  “It’s the only place like it in Palm Springs,” Harrison said. “It’s over 80 acres of the best land in the Coachella Valley. And it overlooks everything. It used to belong to a silent film star who would come down here to get away from Hollywood.”

  They pulled up in front of the Spanish colonial mansion and Sam was waiting there for them near the front doors. Harrison opened his door and said, “You take care of Nico and get settled. I want to talk to Sam about a few things. I’ll see you in a few minutes and I’ll show you around. The master bedroom is at the top of the stairs to the right, and our luggage should be up there already.”

  Morton waved at Sam, and then grabbed his satchel and the leash and climbed out of the car. He opened the back door for Nico and didn’t bother with the leash. There didn’t seem to be a need. There were no neighbors or streets to worry about. And there was plenty of room for Nico to run around and explore.

  Nico jumped out of the car. Morton closed the door and turned fast to see where he went. He didn’t go far; just about a hundred feet near a large fountain surrounded by orange flowers with light green leaves, where a tall young man was standing with his hands buried in his pockets.

  The young man reached down to pet the top of Nico’s head and he smiled at Morton. “Hi, I’m Dustin Gonzalez. I’m the guy who oversees the property management here. If you need anything just let me know.” He spoke with a slight accent and smooth even tone.

  Morton returned the smile and walked up to shake his hand. “I’m Morton Starr-Parker, and it’s very nice to meet you.” He still didn’t totally understand what a property manager did, and he was too embarrassed to ask. Besides, this guy was so good looking it intimidated him and he didn’t want to sound as if he was a total idiot. Dustin had a lean lanky body, wavy black hair, and eyes so dark they were almost black. He wore light cream chinos so tight they hugged his crotch, a tight white polo shirt that outlined his chest muscles and light brown leather shoes with no socks. Dressed that way he clearly wasn’t doing any physical labor, so Morton figured he was managing other people who worked there.

  “I know exactly who you are,” Dustin said, as he shook Morton’s hand. “The whole world knows who you are. Congratulations on your marriage. My husband and I are huge fans of Harrison, and he’s a great guy to work for.”

  Morton looked down and shook his head. He still couldn’t believe the power of social media. “So you’ve seen the nude photo online. That wasn’t planned. I wish that had never been published. It wasn’t my idea.”

  “Don’t sweat it, man,” Dustin said. “It was a great photo of you sitting on your husband’s lap, and it’s not like we saw too much. It was very discreet compared to the nude photos other people post on social media.”

  Morton looked up and said, “Well, thank you. It’s very nice of you to say that.”

  Dustin shrugged and said, “I’ll let you get settled now.” He handed Morton a business card. “If you need anything, call me at any time. I don’t live far from here and I’ll come at any time. When the homeowners are around I make myself invisible.”

  “I will,” Morton said. “And thanks, again.” He liked him instantly. He seemed warm, honest and genuinely kind. He also didn’t even seem to notice the high-heeled boots Morton was wearing. This was always a good indicator for Morton. If someone looked at something he was wearing and made a face, he knew they could never be friends. Dustin didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

  As he turned to leave, Dustin patted the top of Nico’s head again and continued walking to a small white BMW parked near a group of smaller palm trees.

  Morton called after him and said, “Can I ask you something?”

  He stopped and turned around. “Sure.”

  “I’m going to need to get a costume together for an upcoming concert I’m doing with Harrison and I have nothing prepared. I don’t even know where to go in Palm Springs. Do yo
u know anyone who could help with that? I’m not that complicated, but it has to be just right. I have a certain look that makes me feel comfortable when I perform.”

  “You’re in luck,” Dustin said. “My husband owns a salon in town, and he’d be more than happy to help you out. He’s an amateur drag performer and he knows everything there is to know about preparing for a performance.”

  “Wow,” Morton said. “My two dads were both professional drag performers. Are you sure he’ll be able to help me?” He felt more comfortable now knowing he could depend on someone professional to help him get ready. He didn’t want to show up at one of the biggest music festivals in the country unprepared. He needed all the rehearsal he could get to make this go smoothly.

  Dustin smiled. “Call me later and you can talk to him. We’ll both be home all evening. I think you’ll like him. He’s very bossy and very take charge, but he’s the best at what he does this side of the San Gorgonio Pass.”

  “I will, and thank you so much yet again. You have no idea how much of a relief this is. And I need someone very bossy right now, because I don’t like trying to figure these things out alone. I need to be directed sometimes.”

  After Dustin left, Morton went into the house to get settled in the master bedroom. Nico followed him without having to be called or coaxed, and once again Morton was amazed at how quickly Nico seemed to figure things out. But more than that, Morton felt a strong connection to Nico that was hard to describe. He’d noticed that all he had to do was share a quick glance with Nico and he knew exactly what Morton was thinking.

  Even though the entire house was more magnificent on the inside than the outside, Morton could see that Harrison hadn’t put much effort into it. The floors in the main hall were marble and the walls were some kind of rustic stucco that was authentic to Spanish Colonial design. The attention to detail with every piece of carved molding was a work of art. Everything was elegant; all of it was expensive. But like Harrison’s apartment in New York, it was lacking furniture and felt so empty. Most of all, it seemed to be lacking love. It reminded Morton more of a place where someone would hang their hat to come and go than to actually live. It didn’t feel like a home yet, and Morton wanted to help change that.