about both offers for a day and that he’d get back to him by noon the next day. Then he
got into his car and drove north to San Francisco to see Joey. The drive would help him
think. Seeing Joey’s face would calm his fears. Anderson had reached an important
crossroad in his life and he wasn’t sure which way to turn. He had to decide between
what he wanted to do most in the world, and what meant the most to him in the world.
After spending three hours watching Joey sit in a wheelchair and stare at his lap
without saying a word, Anderson went to a cheap motel on the outskirts of San Francisco.
He took a few dudes and slept well that night. When he woke up the next morning, he
didn’t wait until noon. He called his agent first thing and told him he was going to accept
the deal with the film producer. The money was too good to turn down; it was a once-ina-lifetime opportunity to be financially free. He’d be able to pay for all of Joey’s
expenses and he’d never have to worry about money again. But he agreed to all this on
one condition: in addition to the money they were already offering him, he wanted a
percentage of each film he starred in. This, he knew, would assure Joey the best care for
the rest of his life.
Chapter Eighteen
When the house in the Hollywood Hills was finally sold, Anderson took a quick
trip to San Francisco to say goodbye to Joey. He was flying to Paris to begin shooting the
new films and he wouldn’t be able to see Joey as often. Palomino Studios agreed to
Anderson’s financial demands and signed him to a contract that would guarantee his
financial future, where he’d also receive a percentage of each film. He didn’t go into the
details with Harriet about what he was doing, but he knew she read the trade magazines.
And because his deal had broken all prior records in the adult film industry, Anderson
knew she couldn’t have missed the announcement.
But she never said a word about it. When he hugged her goodbye as he was
leaving Joey’s room at The Harvey Milk Clinic, she squeezed him tightly and said,
“Thank you for everything. I don’t know what Joey, or I, would do without you.”
He hugged her back and said weakly, “I think I’m doing the right thing. Take care
of him while I’m gone. And keep me posted about what’s happening with him.”
“I will,” Harriet said. She stepped back and shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes
we just do what we have to do in life. And it’s not always easy.” Then she looked him up
and down and smiled. “Just so you know, if I looked as gorgeous as you, I’d be doing the
same thing you’re doing right now. But unfortunately, I’m a fucking dog.”
He laughed. He was glad she’d found humor in the situation. “I know you would,
Harriet. You’re a tough woman.”
She smiled. “Not as strong as you, Anderson.” Anderson did not tell any of his other friends about his plans. Rush had left a few
messages on his voice mail, but he’d never returned them. He figured Rush and Lance
had probably read about the deal with Palomino the same way Harriet had. And Cody
was so screwed up with drugs, he didn’t know what he was doing. Anderson didn’t want
to go into detail with anyone, and he didn’t want anyone questioning his motives or
trying to change his mind. As far as his mother was concerned, he knew the only thing
she cared about was getting her monthly check in the mail.
In Paris, Anderson settled into a quiet life that revolved around his work. The
films he was starring in required a great deal of physical energy. He had to work out daily,
which included five-mile runs each morning, to keep his body in perfect shape. But this
was nothing new to him. He’d stopped eating carbohydrates years ago. He hadn’t had ice
cream for so long, he’d stopped craving it. He was a professional and even though he was
doing porn, he wanted to do it as well as he could. Though he wasn’t in love with making
porn, he secretly liked the fact that he was doing something no other adult film star had
done in the past. This, he knew, would go down in adult film history. The money it
generated would keep Joey safe for the rest of his life.
The title of the first film was
Ten Man March.
The first time Anderson heard it,
he wasn’t impressed. It didn’t even sound grammatically correct. But when the producer
explained the title, Anderson raised his eyebrows and took a long, deep breath. There
wasn’t much verbal acting required. It would all be filmed inside a studio so he wouldn’t
have to go on location anywhere. The plot revolved around Anderson and his body. All
he had to do was lie back in a black leather sling while ten different guys took turns
fucking him. In the end, while the tenth guy fucked him and he climaxed, the other nine guys who had already fucked him would stand around cheering him on. This would be
the first film in the entire series. After that, he’d make nine more films with similar titles.
The second film would be titled
Twenty Man March,
the third,
Thirty Man March,
and
the numbers would increase in the titles until the final film,
One Hundred Man March.
The producer, so he claimed, was going for his own artistic ambiance with these
films. He was tired of the same old porn flicks with awful background music and actors
who clearly didn’t like what they were doing. He wanted a mixture of reality and fantasy.
The reality of these films was that it was actually happening to Anderson and that real
guys who had never acted before were fucking him. The fantasy was that there were a lot
of gay men out there who wished it could happen to them. Each man who fucked
Anderson would be different. Nothing like it had ever been done before. And the
producer needed a star who already had some exposure, like Anderson, to pull it off and
make it look real. Anderson would have to pretend that he enjoyed getting fucked by all
these men, and he had to maintain an erection the entire time. The producer wanted each
film to be shot without scene breaks and choppy cuts. When it was time for one hundred
men to fuck Anderson, the producer actually wanted one hundred men to do it all in one
nonstop scene.
The first film went off without any problems. The inexpensive set was stark,
except for a black leather sling and a leopard rug. The guys all wore condoms and they
treated Anderson very well. The next few films went smoothly, too. But by the time they
reached the point of fifty guys taking turns on Anderson, some of the actors had trouble
getting erections because they’d been waiting so long. Others had problems coming.
Anderson had to stroke them gently and talk to them nicely to get them aroused, which required a lot of his energy. But he was a professional in each film, and he was always
able to get them hard and get them off. He had a way with men; he knew how to stroke
their egos and their dicks at the same time. And Anderson never had a problem losing his
own erection once.
When each film was released, it was a huge success. In adult film circles,
Anderson’s name became synonymous with the phrases gang bang and power bottom.
The viewers loved his innocent smile and the way he treated each guy with such gentle,
tender concern. Each time a guy mounted him, he looked into the guy’s eyes and made it
look as if there was no one else in the room. People were fascinated by the fact that
Anderson could take on so many men at one time. Fan clubs formed; gay bloggers all
over the world starting writing about Anderson in blog posts. They wrote him fan letters
and begged him to make more films. In a way he’d never expected, the series of films
became cult-like obsessions in only months, and he was on the verge of becoming a pop
culture icon. Some of the attention even crossed into the mainstream media, when a
group of film students decided to focus on Anderson in a documentary about the adult
film industry.
It was a positive, objective documentary. The fact that he was the son of a famous
ex-socialite made him intriguing as a pop culture icon. But they made the documentary
without Anderson. He would not consent to a personal interview; he released no
comments about it at all. After that, he became almost reclusive. When he left his Paris
apartment to go shopping, he wore oversized hats and thick scarves, hoping the attention
would die down soon. As far as he was concerned, when the last man fucked him and the
series was over, he’d never do another porn film as long as he lived. At the end of a shoot, his body was physically abused and exhausted. He took
pain killers and dudes to fall asleep, longing for the day when he could go back home to
spend his afternoons with Joey at the clinic.
As his fame increased, he lost touch with Rush and Lance. They tried calling but
he never returned their calls. He was embarrassed about what he was doing. The large
sums of money didn’t matter, and the international attention didn’t give him comfort.
Cody was busy pulling his life back together. So Anderson never called his friends back.
He talked to Harriet several times a week on the phone. If she was reading about all the
publicity Anderson was getting from his pornographic experiences, she never said a word.
They spoke to each other as if Anderson worked for a corporation and he was away on a
long business trip. The first time his mother heard about what he was doing, she
screamed and shouted at him, threatening to disown him completely. But when he told
her about all the money he was making and that he’d be sending her bigger checks each
month, she stopped shouting and said, “Well, I guess there are worse things you could
do.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cody spent almost two hours getting dressed that morning and he wasn’t even
wearing anything special—just a simple black T-shirt and jeans. Rush and Lance were
coming up for a visit and he wanted to look his best. He hadn’t seen them in a while.
He’d been in The Harvey Milk Clinic for months, working on his emotional problems,
recovering from exhaustion, and battling his addiction to drugs. He hadn’t had a dude
since he’d been run over by that car in San Francisco. He’d been lucky that day. The car
hadn’t been going fast and he’d only suffered a mild concussion, superficial facial bruises,
and a broken arm.
He didn’t remember much about the morning he’d been run over by the car, or the
events that had led him to San Francisco in the first place. He’d been so drugged up for
so long he couldn’t remember large chunks of his life. But he did remember that Rush
and Lance flew to San Francisco immediately when they’d heard about his accident. He
remembered the expressions of relief on their faces when they saw he hadn’t been hurt
and he’d be physically fine. And right after that, he remembered how they forced him to
admit himself into The Harvey Milk Clinic to get help.
At the time, he tried to fight them. But they insisted, without giving him a choice.
Lance threatened that if he didn’t admit himself to the clinic, he’d drop him as a client.
Rush said he’d never speak to him again. Cody knew they weren’t joking. They’d looked
him in the eye and stared him down.
Now they were coming to visit him, for the first time since they’d helped him get
situated at the clinic. He took one last look in the mirror and smoothed the back of his head with his palm. Then he took a deep breath and went down to the main lobby to wait
for them.
When they arrived, he was sitting outside on a bench. It was a bright, warm San
Francisco morning, with a blue sky and few clouds. He stood to greet them. He extended
both arms and grabbed their hands. “I’ve missed you guys so much,” he said. He was
animated and he smiled widely, hoping they’d see how much he’d changed.
Rush hugged him and Lance patted him on the back. “You look great,” Rush said.
“You look just like that guy I heard singing in the theater on the day we first met.”
Cody put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. His hands were a little shaky and
he wasn’t sure where to put them. He smiled and said, “I guess being in the loony bin has
been good for me.”
Rush gave Lance a look, clearly not knowing how to respond to Cody’s humor.
Cody smiled and said, “Let’s walk. There’s a beautiful campus you should see.
This place really is magical.”
While they walked, Rush commented on the lush landscaping and the tall shade
trees. There were pots of perfectly arranged flowers between clipped boxwoods and well
