Glamorama

Glamorama Page 143

"Okay I'll go, okay I'll go," I say, blowing my nose, sobbing again.

"Victor," Bobby begins softly. "You were-hey, look at me."

I immediately look at him.

"Okay, that's better. Now listen to me." Bobby breathes in. "You were the last person Sam Ho was seen alive with."

He pauses.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" he asks.

I'm trying to nod.

"You were the last person seen with Sam Ho-okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"And when his body is discovered, traces of your se**n will be found in him, okay?" Bobby's saying, nodding slowly, his eyes radiating patience, as if he were talking to a little kid.

"What? What?" I can feel my face crumpling again and suddenly I'm crying, pushing him away. "That didn't happen, that didn't happen, man, that can't-"

"Think back to what happened the other night, Victor," Bobby says, holding me tight, resting his head on my shoulder.

"What happened? What happened, man?" I say, suddenly hugging him, smelling his neck.

"You were in bed with Jamie, remember?" he says softly. "That will be the last time that ever happens." Pause. He hugs tighter.

"Do you hear me, Victor?"

"But nothing happened, man," I sob into his ear, shivering. "I swear nothing happened, man-"

A flash. My loud orgasm, its intensity, how I came all over my hands, my stomach, onto Jamie, how she wiped me off with her own hands, her careful exit, the angle she held her arm up as she left the room, the way I shielded my eyes from the light in the hallway, how I spun into sleep.

"Did you hear me, Victor?" Bobby asks, pulling gently away. "Do you understand now?" Pause. "Okay? Do you understand that nothing will ever happen between you and Jamie again?"

"I'll leave, man, it's okay, man, I'll leave, I won't tell anyone-"

"No, Victor, shhh, listen to me," Bobby says. "You can't go."

"Why not, man, just let me go, man-"

"Victor, you can't go anywhere "I want to go, man-"

"Victor, if you attempt to leave we will release photos and a videotape of you having sex with the ambassador's son-"

"Man, I didn't-"

"If you go anywhere they will be sent directly to-"

"Please help me, man-"

"Victor, that's what I'm trying to do."

"What... ambassador's son?" I ask, choking. "What in the f**k are you talking about, Bobby?"

"Sam Ho," Bobby says carefully, "is the Korean ambassador's son."

"But-but how... I didn't... I didn't do anything with him,"

"There are a lot of things you're going to have to reconcile, Victor," Bobby says. "Do you understand?"

I nod dumbly.

"You shouldn't be shocked by any of this, Victor," Bobby says. "This is expected. This was in the script. You shouldn't be surprised by any of this."

"But..." I open my mouth but my head falls forward and I start crying, silently. "But... I am, man."

"We need you, Victor," Bobby's saying, stroking my shoulder. "There are so many people who are afraid to move forward, Victor, who are afraid to try things." He pauses, continues stroking. "Everybody's afraid of changing, Victor." Pause. "But we don't think you are."

"But I'm a-" I gasp involuntarily, trying to ward off tiny waves of black panic from morphing into nausea. "But I'm a... really very together person, Bobby."

Bobby feeds me another small white pill. I swallow gratefully.

"We like you, Victor," he says softly. "We like you because you don't have an agenda." Pause. "We like you because you don't have any answers.

I gag reflexively, wipe my mouth, shudder again.

Outside it's almost dusk again and night sounds are registering and tonight there are parties we have to attend and in rooms throughout the second floor the rest of the houseguests are taking showers, getting dressed, memorizing lines. Today there were massages and Tammy and Jamie had their hair done at a salon that's so chic it doesn't even have a name or a phone number. Today there was a shopping expedition at Wild Oats in Notting Hill, which produced a crate of Evian water and Moroccan takeout that still sits in the salmon-hued kitchen. Today the Velvet Underground played throughout the house and on the computer in the living room various files were erased and mounds of information on disk were being terminated. Today the gym was washed and sterilized and towels and clothing were shredded and burned. Today Bentley Harrolds went to the Four Seasons along with Jamie Fields and they checked me out, retrieved my belongings, tipped various porters, made no arrangements with the front desk concerning how anyone might find me. Today travel plans were finalized and right now luggage is being packed since we are leaving for Paris tomorrow. Somewhere in all this a body was discarded and a videotape of its torture was sent to the appropriate address. Today the film crew left a message with the address of a house in Holland Park and instructions to meet them there no later than 9:00 tonight.