Two Worlds one me

I had just come out of the most boring History class in the history of History classes. I was sitting on the lunch tables in the stoner area, talking to my friend August Wind (yes it’s her name). We were discussing what if anything we remembered from the class we just had, when Kelly and Del walked up to say “what’s up!” They asked me to come over and talk to them on the side. I figured they wanted me to hook them up with some smoke or a female friend of mine. The girls always chilled with me, ladies felt safe around me I guess.] Instead they asked if I wanted to go hang with them, while they surfed in San Diego this weekend.

Maybe I said, feeling skeptical, why me, isn’t Jamey James your solid? Yeah, for sure but he broke his arm skating a bowl last week. Besides he hates SD. Only because he got panted at a party and he wasn’t wearing any skivvies and the whole party laughed at him, said Del. Well I can see that being a problem, I said.

OK I say again why me? It’s not like I knew these guys that well.

They claimed to have decided I was cool during a “sitch” when someone offered me a couple of joints right in front of them.

People are always offering me drugs for free or a cheaper price. What blew their minds is what I did next. I thanked the dude and as soon as he walked away, I turned to them, “Do you guys want this Primo?” They looked at me sideways and said, “Why do you want to sell it”, and “How much?” I shook my head, and I just gave it them to them.

Now this was LA so they wanted to know, what was the catch?

I said, “No catch. I don’t want it. I don’t smoke”.
“You don’t smoke this?”

“I don’t smoke anything”.

“Why not? Are you in recovery or is it against your religion?” one of them said.

“Nope, you may find this hard to believe, but I am allergic to weed in all its forms”.

They just looked at me like I had fallen from the sky-I was not used to this look yet. I only found out I was allergic about a year ago at a Parliament Funkadelic concert. People were high before they got there. Let’s just say I had a blast that ended the night in the emergency room. So Del and Kelly took the joints. Later they said it was good stuff and they would owe me one. I forgot all about it, but after that they were always super cool with me. It must have really been some good stuff.

So like I said when they asked if I wanted to go I said, maybe. I thought a trip out of LA, sun and fun with two chilled out potheads, “Coolness!” It was a three day trip so they could surf the swell and party all night, and that’s just what they did. I would have to pay for my part, so I knew my funds would be thin when I got back to Hollywood, but if the trip was fun it would be worth it.

We drove there in a classic VW van that they had borrowed from a friend. I found out that they were only a little older than me. I was 15, Kelly was 18, and Del was 17 and half. Both Del and I had fake IDs to get us into any club. Mine was better than Del’s, it helps when you have sex with the guy who makes them. He called it a master piece. Del’s ID said he was Jewish and 23 years old. Three young guys driving to SD in a surfer van would not raise anyone’s eye in ’78. When they picked me up at freakin’ 5:30 in the morning, I hadn’t even had a chance to get to sleep from the previous night. To me, it seemed like we got down to SD really fast, mostly because I slept all the way there. When I woke up they said we would be there in: 30 minutes.

I asked, “Where will we stay on the beach or what?” Kelly told me they had a friend who lived on the beach and he said we could crash there. “All of us or just you two?”, I asked. “No we called and he said if you’re cool with us, you’re cool with him”.

I had a backup plan if they were messing with me. We pulled up to this funky beach house and I told myself to just chill out and give it a chance. We all jumped out, and I started walking towards the shack when Del said “where you going bud?” then he pointed up the street. I looked and saw a sweet two story modern concrete house with a Merc in the driveway. I exhaled to myself and caught up to the guys. It was Kelly’s mother’s high school boyfriend’s place. He was also a surfer named Trent Bostrum. I never heard of him, I rarely follow sports. He competed all around the world. He hurt his shoulder and was rehabbing for this month. He was not my flavor but I can see why people would find him gorgeous. Slim Surfer type, dark tanned with red and blonde hair and green eyes. He was nice to me right from the jump, coolness. He had only three bedrooms, so I offered to sleep on the couch or in the van. It was hot in SD; I would have slept on the back deck. Trent said I could have his bedroom and he would sleep on the fold-out couch. I said I couldn’t take the bed of a guy who was being so nice to let me stay. He said no biggy Brah. I said, Fully, Brah? And he gave me the sign that it was all solid. The three of them had beers and I had the best home-made fruit juice I had ever tasted. Trent had learned how to make it in Tahiti.

Kelly and Del hit the beach and Trent and I took his custom made long-boards out for a skate. We also went to the store and picked up some steaks and more beer. Trent was surprised that I could actually ride. I just laughed. Before we bought the grub we had to do a little shredding. Everywhere we went people were saying hi to Trent. It was his city and he was one of their Kings. We had a great time and Trent’s board was sweet. He said he had it made in Hawaii. When we finally made it to the supermarket it was still early evening. Trent picked out the steaks, beer and a bucket load of fruit for more punch. I insisted on chipping in $40, he took the $20’s and shoved one down the back of my shorts. I tried to be butch all day but I screamed like a girl. He just laughed with the girl at the counter. We skated back to his place just as the Sun was going down.

There was going to be a party tonight. I went to chill out for a bit in Trent’s room. I noticed the side wall was frosted glass. I thought it was kind of cool until I heard water running and then a saw a naked male body on the other side of the glass. As soon as saw it was Del, I left the room and went into the kitchen to help with the food and stuff. Trent handed me a $20 and a $10. “Kelly owes you $10 more”. I just said, “Oh cool”, and wondered “what’s Trent playing at he only took $20 from me at the store and he paid for the rest”. He gave me a keep it low look. We ate the steaks and a potato thing I made from what Trent had around. After that Kelly and Del cleaned up as Trent and I sat on the roof watching the sea get darker and darker. People arrived about an hour later. While on the roof, I thanked Trent for being cool. He gave his typical, “No problem little Brah”. I think he liked the fact that I was not all ga-ga over the fact that he was a famous surfer like Kelly and Del.

I thought everybody at the party would be older than me, but there were a few really young faces in the small crowd. Before the party got going real good, I gave the guys about four ounces of weed that I had been keeping to help pay for my part of the gas on the trip. They looked so happy, I thought they were going to scream. Pot heads are so odd and predictable. I told them to give Trent a joint or two for letting us stay. They said good idea. Then the guys were totally scoping on some local chicks. They were the only ones there who knew that I was gay. At first these two girls, who said they went to the local high school, kept saying hi every time they passed me. I played it too cool and went and sat in the corner on the deck on three gigantic bean bags stacked on top of each other. I was next to the window so I could also see in. Trent came by to check on me and a few others brought me stuff to drink and talked to me. I had been to lots of parties before, but there was always something special about a beach party; the sound on the party and the ocean waves mixing, and the way the ocean smell drifts past you from time to time.

We stayed for two more days and started back on Monday right after the guys came in from the last morning run. Trent and I skated to the coffee shop for some morning brew. I put lots of milk and sugar in mine just like a kid. I didn’t even try to hide it. I guess after that weekend, I felt comfortable around Trent. As we skated back he said I could stay or come back any time I wanted. He also told me there were keys on the right side under the deck. I said I bet everybody around here knows that. He stopped skating and looked kind of hurt, “No way man, only three people know where the extra keys are. And two of them don’t live in this country”. I apologized for offending him. He said he could tell, I was real people and that is why he told me and not Del and Kelly, and that I should keep this to myself. “Coolness”, I said. On the drive home, I said to the guys that I wanted to go for hamburgers half way home. They said cool and started recapping all the girls they had met and what they did. I went to sleep, “ugh” straight guys. We arrived back in Hollywood late afternoon; I thanked the guys for a choice trip. I grabbed my stuff and started looking for my Hollywood Homies.

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I couldn’t find any of my people, so I stashed my stuff in my usual place and set out to make some money. I went to our work spot, but there were two cop cars there. Ricky and Spunk were smashed face down on the car hoods with their too short shorts and their candy showing from the back. I asked Davey what was the D (drama)? He said the Cops were Newbies who were trying to show them a lesson when Ricky said something smart to Spunk about one of the cops having nothing better to do than mess with them. So I headed to Vine St. behind Paramount Studios where the Latin boys hung out, hoping someone would want something different.

The first hour with the Mariposa masculinos was kind of slow. They were cool enough. I just didn’t like that most of them claimed to be straight. Some had kids and wives and girlfriends. They almost always claimed they had to do it. I just thought there had to be a better way for them to make money. They were often so upset about what we did that they would get overly drunk or high to deal with their own actions.

I almost thought I was not on the menu this night, when a black convertible pulled up with a black guy driving. Hmm, did he want directions or maybe to ask me to get someone for him. This happened from time to time. In this part of LA (what would later turn into West Hollywood), black men seldom picked a black hustler for a trick. I’m not saying it never happened, but it was rare for me. I once had a good looking Black man pick me up only to not be able to do anything, claiming I looked like his little brother. If that were true, maybe that’s why he picked me in the first place? He tried for the remainder of his time to talk me out of hustling. I laughed and said if he wanted to be my benefactor I would consider it. He looked shocked, and I wondered if it was because I knew the word “benefactor” or that I would be so bold to ask. He dropped the issue.

But this night when I walked past the car, the guy gave me the look that said it’s all about you man. When I walked up to his car window, he looked as hungry as a starving man. That is just the way I liked them. Then I was in control, while his dick drained all the good sense out of him. I asked, “What’s shaken?” Trying to sound cool and older, I was not sure if being 15 would be a turn on for this guy. I did my usual checks to make sure he wasn’t a cop or crazier than I needed. I looked over at the guys I knew standing behind me to see if anyone had any objection or additions. They gave the cool sign. We made our arrangement; he wanted some hard dick down his throat in the worst way. I guess I was all he wanted and more. He agreed to the price and the instruction. We went to the spot behind the run down motel next to the freeway. It was over in about a half hour in total. Not that I was quick I could make it last as long as needed, but he blew his load all over the back window and back seat. I got my money up front as always and after he gave me an extra $20 spot. I was $50 richer and I was feeling better about the night and looking forward to my next trick. The next one came and went with a $25 hand job, easy for a young pro such as myself. The next hour was dry as the one after it. I decided to change venues and go over to Orange St., where the blond guys hung out. Sometimes I could get a double with John-John or Big Will. We liked each other enough for that to be OK and not weird. I walked past Hunter’s or Old Hound dogs as we called it. It was a young hustler bar that was held together by the need of older men to be around young boys. It was a bit much even for me. I went in there once to use the bathroom, and it felt like they could smell my 13 years through the heavy smoke and cologne. It always bothered me that my youth was what most drew a man sometimes. But tonight as a walked by, I saw Taylor. He was standing in the open door with four Cocksucker shots in hand. (Butterscotch schnapps and Bailey's with a whiskey topper) As soon as he saw me he called me over to have a shot. I had saved Taylor from a “hot shot” (bad heroin) once and when he could remember he was eternally grateful. I asked about the shots. He said some old man is buying drinks for everyone. I rarely drank at this time, but I knew what it did to numb me to the world and how far it went to make me seem less weird to the street people I met. I didn’t smoke (anything); I didn’t shoot (anything) or snort mostly anything. I hated beer and some hard alcohol. So if not for the occasional obsessive pill knowledge (thanks mom), I would have been a straight laced freak on the street. I even preferred not to curse unless the situation called for it. So Taylor gave me maybe my second or third Cocksucker shot in my whole life. It was warm going down and melted me loose in just the right way. It was sweet so I kind of liked it. I kissed Taylor on the cheek and wished him a great night and off I went to hang with the Blond boys. It was a little odd to me that they liked to pull together on one street like that, but I guess it worked for them. I heard that you could only work there regularly if you were a natural blond, not a bottle beauty. Like I said before being the opposite worked OK for a select few. Thank you very much.

When I looked across the street at Shakey’s Pizza there was a whole family of blonds coming out of the pizza place, if they only knew how close they were to having some freak snatch up one of their two teenage blond sons. I frowned to myself at the image of the kids disappearing into the night with some muscle daddy freak. I stopped at the corner to see who was out. I saw John-John and but not big Will. Maybe that was Miss Tina’s twin brother Gaby over there. Oh I did not want to do a double with a junky like Gaby. You can never tell what he would be up to next and tricks were a bit unpredictable as it was without some odd junky behavior thrown in. Maybe Gaby would introduce me around to some of the more stable guys. I was standing there on the corner trying to make out the guys in the middle of the block without looking like a scary black kid. All of the sudden, someone grabbed me from the back and lifted me up. I hated that stuff and I was always scared so I had my box-cutter in my hand right away waiting to see who it was and what they were going to do. I heard the giant man laugh and he was not hurting me just lifting me off the ground. Whoever it was he better put me down quick. I turned around and saw Big Will. This white boy was the poster child for corn-fed mid-western lad. He stood 6’8” and not really an ounce of fat. He liked me because we were both from the Mid-west. Will was as blond as wheat and so fair skinned he glowed at night. Sometimes he was a bit too rambunctious for me like tonight. I exchanged a weary what’s happening with his super smiley hey Buddy. I put my box-cutter away. I told him I was looking for work over here tonight. He sounded open to a little two on one action and then started introducing me to some other cool guys. Jamie, Kyle, Chris and some guy called Blue (if you get around blond hustlers someone will be called Blue, ugh!) They all seemed cool enough. With someone like Big Will backing you they would no doubt let you in. Just as I was trying to find out who knew who, a long black limo pulled up. This was not too uncommon, sometimes kids rented limos and cruised to strip or some weak ass movie star on his way down got the itch. So we were aware but not pressed, never pressed.