“This is nice,” Ken declared. “It’s been a while since I’ve allowed myself to just sit down and relax.”
“Me too. Thanks for coming here and keeping me company tonight.”
“Don’t mention it. My pleasure,” Ken said.
“No, I mean it. The truth is, I was starting to climb the walls.”
“I suppose you miss Eva.”
“That’s part of it, sure. And having the press on my back like this is driving me crazy. I wish they’d leave me the fuck alone. It’d be different if I was working, which would at least keep me occupied during the day. But we don’t start shooting next season’s episodes until after Eva and I get back from our honeymoon. Moving in here has kept me busy in the meantime, but now I’ve got everything just about stashed away and organized, as you see. I almost wish I was working all day long.”
“Yeah, I can understand where you’re coming from. So tell me, what does an actor do when he’s in between jobs, besides learn how to cook?”
“He reads scripts.” Rick indicated a stack of them on the coffee table. “These are the scripts for the first four episodes of the new season of the sitcom. I’ve already memorized the damn things, which was probably a waste of time, because the writers will change everything at the last minute. We’ll show up at the studio, ready to go, and there’ll be all these pages upon pages of new lines for us to learn, at the last minute. And these, underneath, are the scripts of possible movie projects my agent sent me. Most of them are garbage, so it’ll be a question of trying to decide which is the least asinine, and that’s the one I’ll probably end up doing. Welcome to my glamorous, exciting life.” He laughed. “And what have you been up to?”
“I’ve seen a couple of your movies, as a matter of fact,” Ken said.
“Oh, really? Which ones?”
Rather sadistically, Ken mentioned the horror movie first.
“Oh crap,” Rick said. “Well, at least now you know the worst I’m capable of, I hope. Although, seriously, that gig paid the rent for a few months, so I can’t knock it. And I’ve always felt that an actor is in trouble if he thinks a part is beneath him. If I’ve signed up to play a leech chopper, then my attitude ought to be, ‘I’m going to go out there and give them the best goddamn leech chopper they’ve ever seen.’”
“I’d say that’s a sensible attitude. And what else have you been up to besides getting settled in here?”
“Planning my honeymoon.”
“I’ve heard about that, or rather, like a lot of people, I haven’t heard anything definite about that. There seems to be this big mystery about where you and Eva are going.”
“We haven’t told anybody. Deliberately, of course.”
“Then I’ll be one of the few people who doesn’t ask you.”
Rick leaned toward Ken with a sly, conspiratorial look on his face. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course I can.”
“I’m serious. I’m bursting to tell somebody—I mean, somebody besides my agent and a couple of the bigwigs at the studio. After all, they do have to know how to get in touch with me in case there’s some life and death emergency, real or imaginary, while I’m out of town. But if these press sons of bitches find out where we’re going and manage to track us down, it’ll spoil everything.”
“I understand.”
Rick produced a small paperbound book. “Swear on this tourist guide that you won’t tell anybody what I’m about to reveal to you.”
“I solemnly swear.”
“We’re going to Baja California.” Rick now let Ken see the cover of the book, which was indeed a guide to that area.
“Oh, wow. I traveled through there once, years ago. I had a great time. I’ve always wanted to go back. Lucky you. But what’s all this I’ve read about the two of you heading off to somewhere in Europe? I’ve heard rumors about France and about Spain.”
Rick grinned. “Those are red herrings. False trails to put the tabloid people off the scent. My agent deliberately had those rumors leaked to certain quarters where he knew the people couldn’t be trusted to keep their mouths shut. While all these journalists are running around in France and Spain, frantically trying to dig up any trace of us at all the fancy resorts there, we’ll be right here on this side of the Atlantic and not actually all that far from home.”
“Brilliant. So what’s the plan, exactly?”
“We’re driving all the way down the peninsula, and we’re going to camp out each night. Until we get to Cabo San Lucas, where I’ve got us reservations in a really nice hotel—under my real name, of course. The management there is also sworn to secrecy, and naturally they’re used to protecting their guests’ identities. Then we’ll drive back home, taking a different route this time. Here, let me show you on this map.”
Rick seemed to have done his homework. As he showed Ken the map, on which his proposed routes were already highlighted with a colored marking pen, he became quite animated. He explained that since he and Eva had planned a late-spring wedding anyway, it would be a good time to venture south of the border on their honeymoon. The crowds of tourists who went to Baja during the winter months would be gone. During the last week of April and the first week of May, the newlyweds might be able to avoid the really scorching temperatures that were so characteristic of the peninsula during the summer, while the ocean water would still be warm enough to swim in.
Since the guidebooks suggested sample itineraries ranging from ten to twenty days for driving the full length of the peninsula, Rick planned to be gone at least two weeks. The only fixed part of their schedule would be the necessity of completing the drive south in time to take advantage of their hotel reservation in Cabo San Lucas. On the way back, they could take all the time they wanted, as long as they did get back in time to honor their next round of professional commitments.
“I want us to be able to see and do as much as possible and not feel rushed,” he concluded.
“It sounds great. I must say, though, I’m kind of surprised, because Eva doesn’t exactly strike me as an outdoor, camping-out type of a girl.”
“She’s not. So it’ll be a novelty for her. I did have some trouble talking her into it. Me, I love camping out, and I intend to convert her. The stay at the hotel in Cabo, halfway through the trip, is the carrot at the end of the stick, so to speak. On the way down there and on the way back, we’ll really be roughing it.”
“Which sounds rather adventurous of you.”
“Well, it’ll be one way of testing our relationship. If we’re still talking to each other at the end of this trip, let alone sleeping together, then I’ll know we’re going to make out all right. And, as far as I’m concerned, the whole point of a honeymoon is being able to spend a lot of time together, just the two of us, with no distractions. We don’t need to stay in fancy places or be around a lot of superficial people. God knows I get enough of that right here in LA.”
“You really do want to get away from it all for a while, in other words.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t like to bring this up, Rick, but you hear so much lately about the potential dangers of traveling in Mexico. Aren’t you concerned?”
“A little. But I’ve done my homework. Most of Baja is still considered to be very safe, as long as you obey the local laws and use plain common sense. And we plan to keep an extremely low profile. I’ve bought a used pickup truck especially for this trip. It looks like an old, beat-up wreck on the outside, but I’ve had it completely overhauled, mechanically, so it’ll be reliable to drive. We’re going to do our best to come across as boring, low-budget tourists who wouldn’t be worth robbing. Eva is going to be allowed to pack a few of her really nice things to wear once we get to Cabo, but while we’re on the road, we’re both going to dress down with a vengeance. That’ll be a real novelty for her too,” Rick added with a laugh.
“Oh, it does sound like fun. I envy you.”
Ken leafed through the guidebook while he and Rick listen
ed to the second half of The Tsar’s Bride. “Do you speak any Spanish?” he asked.
“Enough to ask for directions and order a meal. How about you?”
“Enough to get laid.”
Rick laughed. “Tell me about this trip you made to Baja.”
“Oh, it was years ago, but I still remember it. I went with a buddy.”
“A fuck buddy?”
“You guessed it. We made the rounds of all the gay bars and other hangouts, such as they were. We had a great time, sexually and otherwise. It’s a beautiful country. Austere, of course, in the desert areas, but still beautiful. I know you’re going to enjoy yourselves.”
Searching his memory and looking through the guidebook and at the map, Ken told Rick about some of the places he and his friend had stopped at during their trip. “Of course, there’s no way of knowing whether or not they’ve changed beyond recognition by now,” he warned.
By this point in their conversation, both men had drunk freely of the wine, and Ken had a definite buzz on.
“It’s getting late,” he observed. “I’d better be heading home.”
“Must you?” Rick sounded almost wistful, as though he was reluctant to let Ken go.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so. I do have a few things I need to take care of, first thing in the morning. But thanks for dinner, and everything. I’ve really enjoyed this evening.”
“So have I. I hate to see it end.”
“Too bad you aren’t gay,” Ken joked. “Then you wouldn’t have to.”
“I see. I take it this is the point in the evening’s activities where the guy usually invites you to spend the night?”
“No, this is the point in the evening’s activities where the guy and I have usually already had sex. Assuming that went reasonably well, then I get the invitation to spend the night.”
“I may have to clear all that junk out of the guest bedroom and actually put a bed in there. Then I can invite you to stay the night here next time without compromising myself.”
Ken laughed. “Oh, I bet Eva would be thrilled at that.”
“She has overnight guests at her house all the time.”
“Yeah, but not overnight guests who are—”
“What were you going to say?”
“Oh, just something stupid, like ‘but not overnight guests who are attracted to her fiancé.’ No offense meant.”
“None taken.”
“It’s the wine talking. I’d better go walk it off, and then go right to bed and sleep it off. Good night. And thanks again, buddy.”
“Good night, Ken. And thank you.”
Without hesitation, Rick gave Ken a quick man-to-man hug and another one of his trademark chaste cheek pecks.
Ken walked home slowly in a daze of pleasure.
Rick had seemed almost lonely. As though he really wanted, indeed needed, Ken’s company.
Well, all that’ll change once Eva gets back into town. She and Rick will get married and go off on their honeymoon road trip down through Baja. And then when they come back, Rick will be back to work on his TV show. He won’t have much time to spend with me. And it’d be a strange woman who wouldn’t mind her husband running around with a gay man. She might even disapprove and tell Rick he shouldn’t get too chummy with me. I may have to cool it and pretend I’m not really interested in Rick sexually.
With these thoughts running through his head, Ken’s mood darkened somewhat. But he was still thinking about Rick and smiling as he went to bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
PRICKLY PEAR
KEN SET one morning aside to drive into downtown Los Angeles and do some shopping. He needed some decent new clothes, which he found without difficulty in a men’s shop he often patronized. Then he treated himself to lunch in a restaurant he hadn’t tried before. He ate sea bass served with a complicated sauce consisting of olive oil, butter, lemon juice, fennel, and thyme, with baby potatoes and asparagus on the side. He passed on dessert, which made him feel virtuous, but he did indulge in a final cup of coffee. As he sipped it, he looked out the restaurant’s window at the pedestrians who passed by and the shops across the street. Among the latter was a store specializing in imported Italian ceramics. Brightly colored hand painted dinnerware, vases, and figurines filled the shop’s window in an eye-catching display.
I know what I ought to do, Ken decided on impulse. Buy Rick something. A combination housewarming and wedding gift. I bet I could find something nice in that place across the street.
After paying his check, he crossed the street to investigate the shop.
The inventory included a certain quantity of kitsch. Ken wasn’t sure Rick’s taste extended to tabletop-sized ceramic statues of roosters, let alone pitchers in the shape of roosters. Then he caught sight of a display of planters and cachepots—some round, some square, some rectangular—and he remembered the conversation he’d had with Rick about houseplants.
One of these would be perfect. A spot of color to brighten up that new apartment of his. And I can get a plant somewhere to stick in it. A trial-run houseplant for him to experiment with. If he doesn’t kill it, he can buy himself some others later.
He chose a roughly cube-shaped cachepot, measuring about fourteen inches each way, with a pattern of stylized flowers and leaves painted in vibrant reds, hot pinks, oranges, and yellow-greens against a pale-blue background.
In a large city like Los Angeles, there was more than one plant nursery that specialized in cacti and succulents, and Ken knew of one a short drive away. He made the trip and carried the cachepot inside the store.
“I’m looking for a plant, preferably some kind of a succulent or other really low-maintenance plant, that will fit inside this pot,” he told the employee who waited on him.
“No problem. That’s a nice, good-sized container. How about a sansevieria or a jade plant?”
“Maybe. I was thinking about some sort of a cactus, actually.”
“We have lots to choose from.”
As the employee led him over to the display, Ken had a sudden inspiration. “Do you have any that are native to Baja California?”
“Several. Here are some barrel cacti, and we also have several nice columnar species, as you can see. And these are chollas, which a lot of people aren’t crazy about as indoor houseplants because of the really sharp spines. We sell the chollas mostly to homeowners who want to plant a sort of barrier hedge outside. And these with the round, flat pads are all prickly pears, of course. They’re good indoors or out.”
“I like the prickly pears. Hey, what’s that one with the funny purplish color on its edges?”
“Oh, that’s a new hybrid of one we call Santa Rita. The pads tend to be bluish green with just a hint of purple, but they turn that deep purple in cold or dry conditions. If it’s grown indoors as a houseplant, in air conditioning, it usually retains the purple color. And it gets nice pale-yellow flowers, especially if it’s kept fertilized. Here, I’d recommend this.” The guy handed Rick a small sealed foil bag, which had colorful photos of plants in full bloom on its front and dense paragraphs of text printed in both English and Japanese on the back. “This is a Japanese fertilizer. You just put one or two of these little pellets on top of the soil—I’d suggest two for a pot this size—and, every time you water, they dissolve a little, gradually. They last for about six months on a cactus, which you shouldn’t water that often. When they’ve finally dissolved to the point that they disappear altogether, you replace them with new ones. Very low maintenance.”
“Okay, I’m sold.”
“Is this a gift?”
“Yes, it is, as a matter of fact.”
“I can wrap up the whole thing, your cachepot and all, in colored cellophane and stick a bow on it. No extra charge.”
“Go for it.”
“And here’s a gift card to attach to it.”
Ken was momentarily at a loss about what to write on the card. He finally scribbled Here’s a preview of what you’re going to see on your
honeymoon trip and signed it.
On impulse, he drove directly to Rick’s apartment building, figuring that if his friend wasn’t home, he could stash the gift temporarily at his own place. However, Rick’s voice came over the intercom.
“Who’s there?”
“I’ve got a delivery here for a Mr. Richard Decareau,” Ken said, trying his best to disguise his voice.
He heard a snort of derision. “I’ve got news for you, Ken,” Rick said. “We have an excellent security system here. I’m looking at your mug on closed-circuit TV even as we speak. Smile for the camera, buddy. And what the hell is that big blob you’re carrying?”
“Buzz me in and you’ll find out.”
When Rick let him into the apartment, Ken could hear music playing over the living room’s sound system. Russian opera, of course.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Ken asked.
“God, no. I was just going through more scripts. You’ve arrived at the perfect time. I desperately need a break.”
“What’s that you’re listening to?”
“Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin. I’ll turn it off.”
“No, just turn it down a little, so we can talk.” As Rick did so, Ken set his burden down on the coffee table. “Open your present,” he urged.
“Is that really for me?”
“Of course. You think I lugged it up here in the elevator for the sake of the exercise?”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, the upcoming end of your bachelor days and the end of my fantasy of seducing you.”
Rick laughed. “It’s very prettily wrapped. It seems a shame to tear it open.” Nevertheless, he did so, and then he admired the cactus as he opened and read the card. “Why, Ken, how beautiful. You have really good taste. I love it. But you shouldn’t have.”
“Sure I should have. I wanted to. Now you can do something for me in return. Namely, offer me a drink. This shopping is thirsty work.”
Baja Honeymoon Page 5
