A Starr is Born

by Ryan Field

  Morton called Gregory in Los Angeles and asked if he could come to Palm Springs for two weeks and help out with the house and with Nico. Gregory had become part of their lives by then and he’d been spending almost every weekend there anyway, so he agreed to help out so they could spend their time rehearsing. He was still trying to promote himself as a professional football player and no one seemed to be taking him seriously. It was the best diversion for him at the time, too.

  On the morning they were supposed to shoot the video at Salvation Mountain, Sam showed up before dawn at the house with three large black SUVs to transport all of them to Salvation Mountain, including the musicians. Everyone was awake and waiting to leave, and Morton was already in costume. He’d been rehearsing long enough and he felt secure. The energy around him was upbeat and the musicians were all in playful moods, as if they couldn’t contain their own excitement.

  The only slight disagreement happened when Harrison told Sam he wanted to drive down to Salvation Mountain in his own car instead of going with the musicians in the SUVs. Sam didn’t like the idea of that, and he started arguing with Harrison in the driveway until Morton intervened and said, “Look, I’ll go with Harrison and we’ll meet you there. What harm can it do? I’ve never been there before and Harrison wants to explain everything to me on the way down. We’ll be fine. If we leave now, we’ll get there first and wait for you. I’m sure the production crew will be there before we arrive.”

  Sam finally agreed to let them go alone, and Harrison and Morton climbed into his small red convertible and pulled out of the driveway so fast the tires screeched halfway down the ridge. They traveled through Palm Springs, Cathedral City, down through Indian Wells, and then all the way down to the most barren, empty desert land Morton had ever seen. They wound up on a two lane flat stretch of road and there wasn’t another car to be found. They passed a section that appeared to be a huge date farm, with rows and rows of date palm trees. After the date palm farm, Morton lost all connections to his phone, and said, “Now I know where the middle of nowhere is.”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Harrison said. He wasn’t driving that fast. He was only doing about 60 mph, but he could have been doing 100 and no one would have known it.

  “Yes, it is beautiful. But there’s also something a little unsettling about it,” Morton said.

  Morton started to feel isolated and disconnected from civilization. Not in a dangerous way, but in a way that he’d never experienced before. The more they drove, the more desolate everything became. He wondered how far they had to go to reach Salvation Mountain, but he didn’t want to ask and he couldn’t get any signals on his phone to check a map. He’d lost his sense of direction and he wasn’t even sure what county they were in anymore. When they were so far out in the desert and there wasn’t even a home in sight, he finally noticed a freight train in the distance and actually felt a sense of comfort knowing there were other human beings not too far away.

  At one point, Harrison gestured to the right and said, “There it is. The Salton Sea. Isn’t it beautiful? There’s nothing else like it in the world.”

  Morton glanced to the right and a large body of stagnant water came into view. The car’s top was down and when he took a breath he inhaled a strong fishy smell. There were mountains. The water glistened beneath the sun. From what he could see, there was even a beach. But there wasn’t a single sign of life to be found. He felt as if they were the last two humans on the planet. In its own way, he noticed the beauty that Harrison was talking about. It wasn’t by any means a magnificent tropical resort, with greenery and palm trees. The actual beauty of The Salton Sea was rooted more in its vast emptiness than its fullness.

  While Harrison went into a long explanation about The Salton Sea, discussing its storied past and its more promising future, Morton only half-listened because he was too excited about seeing Salvation Mountain. He noticed a sign and Harrison turned off the road. The Salton Sea had been fascinating in an educational sense, but it was really Salvation Mountain that intrigued Morton the most. He’d been reading about it on the Internet and he couldn’t wait for the car to stop so he could get out and see it for himself.

  When Harrison turned off the main road, they traveled down a narrow road that felt even more isolated. Harrison finally pulled up beside a couple of large white vans where guys from the production crew were already unloading equipment for the video shoot. Harrison climbed out of the car and went over to talk to them. Now that Harrison could handle all the production, all Morton had to do was perform. Morton unfolded from the car and glanced up at Salvation Mountain with one hand pressed to his chest and the other dangling at his side. It wasn’t a huge, tall mountain like he’d expected. It wasn’t even a real mountain. From what Morton had read, an artist named Leonard Knight had built it with adobe and straw. It was more of a large painted sculpture than anything else. It had been stroked and dabbed with brilliant colors, in a casual haphazard way, with a style that reminded Morton of pop art from the 1960s. It also had a random folk art appeal, with quotes in casual print and none of the hand painted letters were perfectly executed. It was as messy as it was fascinating, and Morton couldn’t stop staring. There was a cross at the very top, and a big red heart in the middle that said something religious. It was random, it was slapdash, and some might have called it amateur. But when all the elements of the mountain came together, they seemed to form a work of art that couldn’t be compared to anything else in the world. But more than that, Morton knew this would be the perfect setting for a video about Harrison’s song, Salvation.

  Once everyone arrived and they started shooting the video, Morton felt more comfortable than he had in a long time. With Harrison there as the boss, he received the direction he’d been craving. He trusted Harrison completely and followed every order Harrison gave him. Harrison’s production and directorial talents equaled his artistic talents, and when they were combined it was almost like watching something magical. He seemed to instinctively know what worked best for Morton, and what didn’t work at all. As if he could predict what Morton’s fans wanted and expected, as opposed to what might turn them off. The fact that Morton was so well-rehearsed to perform the song made the entire shoot one of the most enjoyable experiences of his career to date. He didn’t lose his own temper once and that hadn’t happened in a while.

  Toward the end of the day when they were about to wrap up, Harrison wanted to see a few more shots of Morton alone. They’d performed the song together, but Harrison didn’t think they had enough close-ups of Morton. No one said a word because they knew he was probably right.

  Then Harrison kissed Morton on the lips and said, “I’ve gotta run, cutie. I promised I’d do that interview today and I’m already going to be late.”

  “I forgot all about that,” Morton said. Harrison had mentioned he was being interviewed for one of the most popular publications in the world. He’d been so consumed with the video he’d totally forgotten about it. “Let’s skip the extra shots and I’ll go with you. I hate the thought of you driving alone out there in the middle of nowhere.”

  Harrison shook his head. “Nope. I want this video perfect, and I want those extra shots. Just trust me on this. I know what I’m doing. You come back with Sam and the crew. We’ll have a party at the house tonight to celebrate.”

  He had no choice but to trust him. He kissed him goodbye and said, “I’ll see you in a few hours. Love you.”

  As he turned to leave, he sent Morton a backward glance and winked. “Love you, too, cutie.”

  As Morton headed back to his mark so they could take the extra shots, Sam met him on the way and asked, “Where’s he going?”

  Morton explained and said, “I hope it’s a good interview. He needs some good press.”

  “Is he sober?” Sam asked, almost in a snide way, as if he expected Harrison to be drinking.

  Although Morton resented him asking that question, he smiled and said, “Yes, he’s sober. I know that for a f
act. He hasn’t had a drink or anything else for the last two weeks.” He could always tell when Harrison had been drinking or doing drugs. He behaved in a nervous, terse way, and he came off smiling too much and making too many bad jokes. He’d been all business that day, and so articulate he barely cracked one bad joke.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Sam said. “Because I think this video is going to be a huge hit. This song might even be another Grammy contender this year.”

  Morton laughed. “I don’t care either way. All I know is I think we can work together now. I think we have a shot at it, and I want it to continue.” He was talking more about his marriage than his career, but he didn’t want to say that aloud to anyone.

  A half hour later, they finished the extra close-up shots Harrison had wanted of Morton, and Sam came running up to where he was standing at the base of Salvation Mountain. He was right next to the big red heart with the quotes. He knew the instant he saw Sam’s expression that something wasn’t right.

  “We have to go,” Sam said. “The driver is waiting for us. The rest of the crew can pile in the other cars together.”

  “What happened?” He felt a lump in his throat and his legs felt weak.

  “I just got a call,” Sam said. “There’s been an accident. It’s Harrison. It’s bad.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The driver took them back toward The Salton Sea on the same two-lane desert road and slowed down somewhere about halfway between Salvation Mountain and Palm Springs. Morton leaned forward and stared through the windshield with wide eyes. When they reached the spot where Harrison had the accident, Morton bent over and held his stomach. It nauseated him to see rescue crews, with ambulances and a helicopter, in the midst of all that dry desert emptiness. It felt as if this was happening to someone else, and he was stuck in someone else’s story.

  The police had the entire accident area blocked off completely, coming and going. The driver pulled up as close as he could get and Sam and Morton jumped out of the backseat and ran toward a sandy area in the distance where a group of emergency techs and police were gathered. On the way, Morton took one look at Harrison’s mangled red convertible and almost fell down. He was already way ahead of Sam and he stopped for a moment, gaped at the twisted hunk of red steel, and pressed his palm to his stomach again, fighting the urge to vomit.

  Then he took off the high heels and started running in his bare feet, faster than he’d been running before. He didn’t feel the hot sand against his flesh or the hot sun beating down on his face. He felt nothing but an empty sense of loss deep in his gut.

  When he reached the spot where they were all standing, they saw him coming and parted so he could see what was happening. They obviously recognized him, and one of the police officers said something he didn’t hear. Everything around him sounded muffled, he felt nothing, and he only saw the way they’d stretched Harrison out and covered his body in the middle of the desolate road. Morton’s only working sense at the moment was smell, and with every breath he inhaled he detected the strong aroma of dead fish coming from The Salton Sea, which was right beside them.

  They’d covered Harrison’s body up to his neck with a white blanket. His eyes were closed and his face so battered and bloody he didn’t even look like the same man who’d left Morton at Salvation Mountain only an hour earlier.

  He bent down and cradled Harrison’s bloody face in his palms and shook his head. He couldn’t cry; he couldn’t even speak. He just wanted to hold him and make it all right again.

  Sam came up from behind and reached down for Morton’s shoulder. “They have to take him to the hospital now. The helicopter is waiting. We can follow.”

  Morton looked up at Sam. “Is he going to live?”

  “They don’t know,” Sam said. “He lost a leg, and he’s lost a lot of blood. C’mon, let’s go back to the car. You can’t do anything more right now.”

  Morton shook his head. “No. I can’t leave him, not like this. I’m going with them in the helicopter. I can’t let him go alone.”

  There was a police officer standing behind Sam. “Is that okay?” Sam asked.

  The officer nodded. “We don’t normally do that in the most serious cases. It’s better for the patient to go alone.”

  Morton looked up at them both with a deadpan stare. “Oh, I’m going with him. I’ll pay you if I have to.” He’d checked Harrison’s pulse himself and he knew Harrison was barely hanging on, and he knew that he could lose him at any moment. He had a bad feeling that if he didn’t go Harrison would die on route to the hospital and he wouldn’t be there. He wasn’t going to let that happen. If Harrison didn’t make it, he would be holding his hand when he passed.

  The police officer and Sam exchanged a look, and then the police officer nodded. “I’ll tell the EMT people he’s going with them.”

  Morton turned back and looked down at Harrison. He was still unconscious. He caressed Harrison’s face and said, “Hang in there. I’m going in the helicopter with you. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone this way. I’m not ready for that yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I can’t believe it’s been one year since I picked you up for the Grammy Awards,” Gregory said. This year Gregory wasn’t driving Morton to the theater in Los Angeles. He was going with him as a guest.

  Gregory looked so attractive in his formal tuxedo. Morton leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. “I still can’t believe so much happened in the last year. So much of it is still a little foggy.” The day of Harrison’s accident he’d been in shock, which actually worked out to be a good thing because that shock carried him through the worst day of his life. He learned he could embrace shock and feed off it for his own survival.

  “It hasn’t been easy,” Gregory said. He pulled Morton closer and gave him a hug. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did. And you look fantastic tonight.” He reached around and patted Morton on the bottom in a playful way, as if trying to make the mood lighter on purpose.

  Morton was wearing another one of his outrageous costumes for the Grammy Awards. This year it was a gold see-through bodysuit that exposed everything but his genitals, with gold stilettos to match. It wasn’t traditional drag and it was obvious he was a man breaking gender stereotypes, which is what he’d always wanted to do. But more important, it was what he knew they expected him to do now.

  Morton kissed him again and said, “I don’t know what I would have done without you around. You got me through it all. In fact, I still don’t know what I’m going to do without you next week.” He’d been hired as the head coach of a popular football team at a large university. The fact that he was openly gay didn’t seem to matter in the least.

  “I’m not going forever,” Gregory said. “You can’t get rid of me that fast. You know I’ll be back as much as I can be. I love you both.”

  Nico barked, as if he understood. He’d been sitting on the bottom step of the main staircase watching them. “Isn’t that right, Nico,” Morton said. “We’re going to miss him.”

  Nico barked again and they both laughed.

  Then Morton stepped away and reached for his black leather jacket and his satchel. “The car is outside waiting. We should go. I don’t want to be late, especially this year.”

  On the way to the theater in Los Angeles, Gregory took a few photos of Morton in the backseat of the SUV so he could share them with fans. Morton knew people liked these photos, and he’d learned to embrace social media more in the last year. After the accident, so many people had left encouraging positive comments when he’d needed them the most he could never repay all those wonderful fans. They’d helped him get through the darkest part of his life, and also helped him learn a lot more about himself in the process. He wasn’t as backward and shy about putting himself out there in the world anymore. He now posted selfies of himself all the time, and even posted a few where he was barely wearing any clothes at all. The media referred to him as shocking and outrageous, but he thought
of himself as someone who only wanted to please his fans.

  When the SUV pulled up to the theater, Gregory and Morton unfolded from the backseat and found photographers and the media waiting for them. There were so many screaming fans the police had set up barricades for security reasons, and to keep the crowds controlled. They told Morton to just wave and walk right into the theater. They said that was the safest thing for him to do.

  Of course he didn’t listen. He walked right up to the barricades and shook as many hands as he could, and even managed to sign a few autographs. He wasn’t afraid of them anymore, nor was he afraid of his own success. Harrison had taught him well, and he’d learned how to embrace everything in his life as completely as possible. In spite of all the bad things that had happened to him, he still thought of himself as luckier than most. It wasn’t the money. It wasn’t the fame. It wasn’t anything material. It was the love. The love for his music, the love for performing, and the love for giving something back to the world. All those people were waiting for something very special that night, and he wanted their experience to be wonderful.

  After they entered the theater, Gregory met Sam and his escort at the door and Morton slipped backstage to prepare for his performance that night. There was a reason he wouldn’t be sitting in the audience this year when they announced his name as a nominee. He’d been nominated in several different categories that year, but the one that mattered the most was Harrison’s song, Salvation. It didn’t matter whether he won a Grammy that year or not as an artist. The song, Salvation, was more important to him than any other nomination.