"What should I do?" Les asked, turning to his rational, rock of a boyfriend for advice.
Once again, calm, collected, grounded Russ came through.
"I'd go on the offensive. Take the magazine into Frederickson, today if you can, and 'fess up about us being together. Being up front and honest is the best policy...I think."
Russ paused then continued, "Anyway, I'm pretty sure he'll appreciate you're coming to him and not letting him find out from one of his publicity staffers or, worse yet, the media. Then let him decide how to handle it. I'd call Sid, too. Let him be the one to approve that plan. It'd probably be better if Frederickson thought it came from him rather than me."
"Okay," Les said, not fully convinced that this was what he should do, but trusting his boyfriend nonetheless.
They talked for a few more minutes. Russ, always so solid, made him feel better about the potential outcome of this state of affairs and the fact he, Les, was the one who had insisted they get together, creating the situation in the first place. They said goodbye and pledged their love and commitment to one another.
Les wondered once more if the paparazzi had the technology to tap phones; after all there had been that scandal in England about emails and voice mails of famous people being hacked.
* * * *
"Les!" Jacob Frederickson said as Les came into his office. "What can I do for our rising star?"
He hasn't heard, Les thought, feeling some relief.
"I'm okay. But I have some bad news." He handed Frederickson the magazine. "Sid said I should bring it to you right away."
"What's this?" Frederickson said, taking the magazine from Les and scanning the front page. "Sid thought I needed to know that some hack politician had an alien for a mother?"
"No. The little picture in the corner: the one of me and Russ," Les said, waiting for the shit to fly.
Frederickson looked again at the magazine cover. This time he looked up at Les over the rim of his reading glasses, smacked himself in the forehead and said, "Gay actors! More trouble than they're worth sometimes." He looked at Les, who gave him a weak smile, shrugged, and shook his head in apology. "Did Sid have any ideas of how we can stop the bleeding on this one?"
"He said to call him. He said he'd have a plan by the time you did," Les said with a sigh.
Frederickson dropped the gossip rag and picked up the phone. "Hank, get Sid Galloway for me."
* * * *
A day later Les sat again in Frederickson's office. Sid was there, too, as was Hillary Swenson, one of the starlets Les had been having arranged dates with over the past couple months.
Hank, Frederickson's secretary, was also present.
"Okay, here's the spin," Sid started. "We were lucky...again." He looked at Les, who dipped his head to the side uncomfortably. "Starlight is a loser of a publication and no one puts much stock in it. But, that aside, if any legit press gets on the story, here's what we say." Sid looked around the room. Les, Frederickson and Hank nodded. Hillary scratched her nose.
"The picture of Les and Russ at the marina is Les pointing to a yacht he was trying to convince his financial manager he could afford to buy. It's the only clear photo, so we have to have a plausible explanation for that one. Got that?"
Les and Frederickson nodded. Hank was taking notes.
Hillary was idly checking the condition of her nail polish.
"The pictures of the two of you on the balcony are indistinct and blurry enough that we can claim Photoshop," Sid went on.
He brought out another set of the balcony pictures but this time Hillary's head was on Russ's shoulders.
"Technology---ain't it great!" Sid said sarcastically. "We'll release these as the real pictures if we need to. Then it will look like Starlight doctored the originals to make it look like it was Russ on the balcony. With their reputation, people will likely believe our pictures were the real ones, rather than theirs."
"Why am I here?" Hillary asked. "I told you it was okay to use my pictures."
"We're going to take this to level two," Frederickson chimed in. "Congratulations, you two! You're engaged!"
* * * *
Back in his apartment, Les lay on his back on his bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He knew he should call Russ. He knew his faithful lover would want to know what happened at the meeting with Sid and Frederickson. Hank had been instructed to make a press release regarding Les's engagement to Hillary. He didn't want Russ to hear that on the evening entertainment news. He figured Russ would understand it was a studio smokescreen, concocted to protect Les's precious all-American sex idol image, but Les knew he should show Russ the respect he deserved and tell him himself.
He reached for the phone just as it rang. The caller ID gave Russ's cell number.
Les picked up the phone, pressed the talk button, and said, "Russ , I'm so sorry. This is such a mess. I was just going to call you."
"Hey, I understand. It's your career they're trying to protect. So tell me what they decided."
Les told him about the pictures: how they were supposed to say they were talking about buying a boat, that the pictures on the balcony had been altered, and finally about his engagement to Hillary.
"Sid told me he's been contacted with options for two more movies for me and we needed to make sure those contracts were in place. Hillary being linked with me would be a big boost to her career, so he decided to go drastic. He said we would be evasive about a wedding date and didn't think it would have to go so far as to actually have it happen."
Russ was quiet through the entire explanation. When Les was done he waited a bit, and when Russ didn't say anything, he asked, "Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"I wouldn't blame you if you weren't. This sure isn't the life we envisioned for ourselves, is it?"
"No, but it'll get better, somehow."
Always the optimist, Les thought.
They talked for a few minutes more and hung up. Les wandered to the kitchen, made himself a sandwich, got a beer from the fridge, and went into the living room and switched on the TV.
The evening news was just ending and the Entertainment USA segment was beginning. His engagement to Hillary was the top story of the night.
"Hot, sexy actor Les Bannister, star of the blockbuster hit Survival and starlet Hillary Swenson have announced their engagement. In a statement given by the studio, the pair are away on a trip to celebrate the event and could not be reached for comment. Entertainment USA has not been able to determine just where they have run off to."
"No, I guess not," Les said, taking a bite of his Swiss and ham. The last thing the two had been told as they left the studio was to go home and stay there until further notice.
"No definite plans for the wedding have been announced, but we'll keep you posted as soon as we learn anything."
Les switched off the TV and walked to the balcony. He stopped at the door, peeped through the sheer curtains, and sighed. Probably shouldn't go out there. They're no doubt casing the place. He turned and walked back into the living room and flopped onto the couch.
* * * *
A week later, Les, Hillary, Tiffany, Russ, and a selected entourage celebrated the engagement at Beso, one of the trendiest eateries in Los Angeles. Sid had decided Russ should be made more a part of Les's life so they could be seen together occasionally without raising suspicion. So he was to be the best man at the wedding.
After an evening of dining and dancing, the four were escorted out of the restaurant where they just happened to run into a crowd of journalists and photographers. Cameras flashed and microphones were thrust into their faces. Hillary showed off her three carat diamond engagement ring and gushed about how happy she was.
Tiffany, the maid of honor to be, fielded questions regarding how she had had the inside track to Les's heart, and told how it had come about that she had lost him to Hillary. But, since Hillary was her best friend she had no hard feelings.
Les told the press
that no date had been set for the wedding, that he and Hillary would be spending the holidays together with her family in Minnesota, and they would discuss it with them then. "But," he warned, "after the first of the year, both of us will begin working on separate films and so our schedules will be pretty full for awhile." (Hilly's association with Les apparently had had the desired effect of landing her a role.)
"So, don't expect invitations to go out just yet." He laughed and looked at Hillary who squeezed his arm affectionately. Les hoped that would give the PR people from the studio time to get him out of this situation.
Russ was congratulated at being chosen to be Les's best man and was queried about how long the two had known each other, and just how could a financial manager become such a good friend of a star? Russ responded by making up a story of how they had become friends in college where Russ was an accounting major and so, given that relationship and in light of his financial expertise, it was a natural fit. Les once again felt badly about his boyfriend being forced into making himself into something other than what he really was for the sake of Les's career.
The young star was caught off guard by the next question:
"So, when will you and Hillary be moving in together?". Les had put his foot down when Sid and Frederickson had suggested that he and his fiancée cohabit as further proof of his heterosexuality.
Les stammered, "Well...we...I..."
"That will do for tonight," Jacob Frederickson said, coming to Les's rescue. The four were whisked away in a studio limousine.
Tiffany was dropped off first, then Hillary. Les walked her to the door, where they played out a love scene for the benefit of any paparazzi who might be lurking in the shrubbery near her condo.
Once back in the limo, Les switched on the intercom to the driver. "Tommy."
"Yes, Mr. Bannister?"
"Please take Mr. Williams home first."
"Okay, but that's out of your way. We'll actually go right past your place...sir." Tommy seemed to add the final word as an afterthought.
"I know, but we have some financial matters to discuss."
He smiled at Russ and took hold of his hand.
"Yes, sir," Tommy replied.
Les switched off the intercom, increased the volume on the music, and turned to Russ. He had made sure the privacy shield between the driver's compartment and the passenger section had been raised earlier in the evening when they had picked up Hillary. It was still raised. With the smoked glass windows the men had complete seclusion.
Les scooted over next to his boyfriend, wrapped him in a hug, and kissed the man for all he was worth. Les's hands ran over Russ's body as if discovering him for the first time. Russ returned the kisses and caresses with equal ardor.
"Oh, baby," Les moaned into his partner's mouth. "it's been too fuckin' long. I need you so."
Russ offered a mumbled, "Uh-huh," as Les's tongue invaded his mouth.
After several minutes of passionate kissing, they separated and unzipped their flies, pulling out their balls and rigid cocks to receive the sexual stimulation they had been denied for so many weeks.
Each alternately went down on the other, swallowing the hard organs to the base and massaging their nuts, tight and swollen with pent-up cum.
Les reached around his back and under Russ's belt and waistband with his other hand as Russ sucked him and felt the smooth curve of his lover's muscular ass.
"Take down your pants," Les whispered urgently.
Russ stopped sucking Les and looked up at the shaded window to the driver's compartment.
"You're sure?"
"I gotta fuck you, Russ. I miss you so much."
Kissing Les once more, Russ stood, awkwardly bent over in the confines of the limousine. He turned and let his pants and boxers drop to his ankles. Les pulled him against his face and immediately began to assault his puckered hole, while reaching around to massage his cock and balls.
"Oh, man, Les. I need you inside me," Russ groaned.
Russ squatted down and Les positioned his dick at the entrance to Russ's ass. Russ pressed down and Les arched up to complete their union. Les wrapped his arms around his lover and kissed his back through his shirt.
"I love you, Russ, with all my heart and soul," Les said as he initiated a rhythm.
"I love you, too, Freddy," Russ said, reverting to Les's pre-movie stardom name.
He took up the rhythm, and, long before either of them wanted, Les pumped his seed into Russ's body, calling out his name in a strangled moan.
Russ got up and turned to Les, who engulfed his cock, sucking it until Russ also gave up his cum, filling Les's mouth with the essence of his manhood.
Russ slid down beside Les, and the two men held each other tightly, sharing Russ's seed with a kiss.
The red light on the intercom came on. Les pressed the button and said, "Yes, Tommy?"
"Just wanted to let you know we're only a few minutes from Mr. Williams' place, Mr. Bannister."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir."
Les pressed the button and the red light went out. He turned to Russ and kissed him again.
"We better get dressed," he said, grateful for Tommy's forewarning.
* * * *
It was the last week of January. Les had been working on his new film for a couple of weeks. His trip to Minnesota had been a stressful one. He felt sorry for Hillary's family. They had no idea the engagement of their daughter to this actor of burgeoning fame was a sham. Hillary seemed to have no problem with that. She and her mother pored over bride magazines. Les was afraid maybe she had lost sight of the charade and had confused the pretense with reality.
Les didn't know if his parents had heard of the engagement. He had been reticent to call them. After all, it had been quite a scene when he had come out to them before he left for the coast: his mother denying the reality of his admission that he was gay and his father blustering that if Freddy was going to become a homosexual it would be better to do it somewhere other than Newton, Iowa where it might reflect on him and his status in the Knights of Columbus and ruin his car dealership.
So, Les didn't know how to explain how it was that now he was going to be married and then, when it didn't happen, explain it again. He avoided the issue altogether by not contacting them. If they found out through the media he'd deal with it.
He hadn't seen Russ face-to-face since the night of the engagement party, although they talked on the phone every night no matter how late Les got home from the set. With the stress of filming, keeping up the pretense of his impending marriage, and the late night talks, Les was totally exhausted.
Today he had the day off. He fully intended to spend the entire day in bed.
Shortly after 5:45 A.M. the phone rang.
Les fumbled for it, pressed talk, and let his head fall face first back into his pillow.
"Hullo," he mumbled into the receiver.
"Les, are you watching?" Russ's voice asked.
"Watchin' what?" Les replied. "What the hell time is it, anyway?"
"Five-fifty," Russ said. "They're announcing the Oscar nominations!"
"That's nice," Les said, starting to drift off to sleep again.
"Les! Wake up! You were nominated!"
The fog of sleep started to lift. "What?" he said, raising his head from the pillow, and trying to focus.
"Les! You were nominated for best supporting actor for Survival!"
The information penetrated his sleep deprived brain. Les flipped over in bed and sat up.
"You're kidding me!"
"Fuck no! They just announced it on TV. Look, I'm going to get off the phone; they'll be calling you with the official announcement any minute. I just wanted to..." Les could hear Russ's voice break, "to be...the first to tell you how...happy I am for you."
Knowing his long-suffering boyfriend was crying brought tears to Les's eyes as well. Not because he was now an Oscar nominated actor but because this man whom he loved more than life it
self was being so selfless by putting Les's success above his own happiness.
Before he could say more the phone signaled there was a call waiting. "Russ, I, I think they're calling me now."
"Go on. Take the call."
"Russ, I love you! I want you to know..."
"Love you, too. Go on, man, this is your moment."
Les pressed the flash button.
"Hello, is this Les Bannister?"
* * * *
The six weeks that followed the call telling Les he was a Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences nominee were hectic. Tiffany had been nominated for her supporting role in Survival as well. The two of them were bombarded with requests for interviews. The fact that two relative unknowns---who had been in the same first feature film of their careers---seemed to capture the imagination of the entertainment world.
In addition, Les had his shooting schedule for his new motion picture to contend with as well as the façade of being engaged to Hillary Swenson.
When Oscar day arrived Les was a complete wreck. Arnie came over to his apartment to help him get ready for his walk down the red carpet.
"Oh my, sweetheart, those awful bags under those beautiful blue eyes," Arnie tsked. "We're gonna just have to use a little bit of make-up here and there. After all, you're gonna be up on that stage---"
"I'm not going to win. The other actors who are nominated are so much better than I am and deserve it so much more," Les protested, his modesty genuine.
"Well, you'll be in front of the camera on the carpet and you're a presenter, too, right?"
"Yes. I present the best animated short along with Hilly."
"Well, there you are. So make-up it is."
Les took a shower and sat in a chair while Arnie applied his make-up.
"Is your boyfriend going to be there?" Arnie asked as he continued to work on Les's eyes.
The Price of Fame Page 7
