Uprising - The Suspense Thriller Part 9

Oth.e.l.lo appeared on the screen, looking at least ten years youngera"late teens maybea"with a small Afro and baby-soft cheeks. It was his first video ever, Raider realized, for "Fun in the Sun," the upbeat dance tune. He was playing a guitar on a city street, singing and dancing with a cast of hundreds dressed in glitter and spandex. Raider smiled nostalgically, having seen the video a million times in his own youth.

The clip only lasted a few seconds, followed by more short pieces of footage of Oth.e.l.lo through the years. After "Fun in the Sun," he was standing in an office, surrounded by men in suits, accepting a huge gold-plated record in a frame. "First alb.u.m, first gold," said the silver-haired man next to him as a dozen camera bulbs flashed in their faces. Then came fuzzy black and white shots of a father and son fis.h.i.+ng off a dock and Raider recognized the video for "Call Me Daddy," the huge ballad from his second alb.u.m. Raider's ex, Adele, had bought that song for him when Brian was born.

Next, Oth.e.l.lo was at the American Music Awards, clutching a trophy and blowing a kiss to the camera, which sent a throng of teenage girls in the balcony into a frenzy. Then he was at the Grammies, performing another ballad, "Love Me Today," with a choir backing him up. Next, at those same Grammies, he was backstage, cradling six awards in his arms. Then came a rapid succession of aerial shots of outdoor stadiums: the Orange Bowl in Miami, Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona, Giants Stadium in New Jersey, 3Com Park in San Francisco. They were all packed to the rafters for Oth.e.l.lo. The camera cut to him on stage in San Francisco. He was with twelve female dancers, gyrating through "Preacher's Daughter" from his third alb.u.m, the alb.u.m that sold like gangbusters and vaulted him to the same stratosphere of music's biggest superstars.

Next came photos of magazine covers: Time, half a dozen Rolling Stones, a couple of Peoples and Vanity Fairs. Then there was footage of him going to movie premieres and award shows with some of fas.h.i.+on's hottest models, followed by a seemingly endless stream of more gold and platinum record ceremonies. Then came some of the many Oth.e.l.lo videos that had become part of pop culture, reminding Raider of the antic.i.p.ation and buzz surrounding each new release.

When "Time to Work" came on, Raider couldn't help grinning. It was Oth.e.l.lo's lone rap song and had always been one of Raider's favorite videos. All it consisted of was one long, unedited shot of Oth.e.l.lo dancing up a storm on a smoky nightclub stage. He was dressed in a white tank top and faded blue jeans, showing off his best moves, grinding until he was dripping with sweat, not even bothering with the usual lip sync. MTV had a field day with "Time to Work." Raider himself used to watch every play he caught, envying the way black guys could dance, like it was s.e.x to them.

"If the world only knew," Raider said, shaking his head.

"We're working on a compilation package for Christmas."

It echoed from across the room, startling Raider. It was Oth.e.l.lo, standing at the doorway. He was wearing a pair of loose-fitting brown silk pajama bottoms, the top still draped over one arm.

"Christmas," Raider repeated, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah, you know, a greatest hits thing with a video retrospective, together in a box set." Oth.e.l.lo entered the room.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to a.s.sume I could looka""

"Please, it's nothing the whole world hasn't already seen."

They were separated by the brown leather couches and Raider stood in awe to see for the first time the real Oth.e.l.lo, scrubbed and clean and not hidden in poor man's clothing. He was only now slipping on the pajama top, affording Raider a prolonged glimpse at his perfectly round hairless pecs, ripped abs and tiny torso. Raider wasn't looking because he wanted Oth.e.l.lo, he rea.s.sured himself. He was simply studying the world famous star the way anybody would. Nothing wrong with that.

"Did you want to watch more of this?" asked Oth.e.l.lo.

"Whatever you want to do, I mean, only if you want to."

"What I'd like to do is relax out on the terrace while Sweeney fixes us something to eat, and try, if possible, to forget this day ever happened."

Raider agreed. Oth.e.l.lo led him though the set of double doors onto the patio that stretched across the entire length of the house and bordered a steep, black hole of a canyon below. To the left was an Olympic-sized pool along with a Jacuzzi, to the right, a handful of patio tables and chairs. And in front of them, Southern California by night.

"Un-f.u.c.king-believable," Raider said when he saw the view, making his way to the terrace's edge which was lined with shrubbery.

Oth.e.l.lo said nothing, momentarily preferring to stay behind and inhale the sight of his Nantucket man taking it all in. When he did join Raider, he stood right next to him, too close Oth.e.l.lo realized too late, as close as good friends or lovers. The sudden intimacy proved awkward, forcing Oth.e.l.lo to stammer: "You can have a seat if you want."

Raider took him up on it, claiming the stone bench to his right. Oth.e.l.lo promptly claimed the bench to his left, unwittingly putting more distance between them than he had wanted as they both searched for something to say.

"It was some day out there, huh?" Raider finally uttered.

"Yeah, yeah, quite a day!" was all Oth.e.l.lo could think of.

More silence. Everything seemed different now that they were Raider and Oth.e.l.lo and not Raider and the old man, as if words, thought and all social order had been sapped from their brains. Oth.e.l.lo would glance over at Raider, or vice versa, their eyes would inadvertently meet, then, with nothing to say, they would both smile and turn back toward the night.

"Great view," Raider said eventually, bobbing his head up and down like an idiot, he was sure.

"Thanks," Oth.e.l.lo said, sounding as if he were taking credit.

Why is it so different talking to him now that he isn't old Joe, Raider asked himself scornfully. In reality, he had a zillion questions he was dying to ask, not only about Oth.e.l.lo's a.s.sociation with ACTNOW, but about his life in general. And here was Raider's big chance and all he could think of was how relatively small the guy seemed in person.

"So I guess you were shocked to see it was me," said Oth.e.l.lo.

"Shocked isn't the word," Raider said laughingly, loosening up a bit.

"It's not, huh?" Oth.e.l.lo said, matching Raider's over-enthused tone. "I really wanted to tell you the minute you said you had the hotsa"you were attracted to mea"Oth.e.l.lo me, that isa"outside the hospital."

"I told you that. Right," Raider remembered. Hanged by his own noose. The momentum of their conversation vanished and silence returned. After a few seconds, Raider came up with an opener he was proud of: "Saw that new Mariah Carey video the other day. It was money."

"Wrong!" Oth.e.l.lo said, his voice resembling a game show buzzer.

"Of course, it's not as good as Whitney Houston's lasta""

"Wrong!"

Undaunted, Raider tried again. "Then again, Paula Abdul has a new one."

"Which looks like a Juicy Fruit commercial."

"What about the latest Boys II Men?"

"Boring."

"The last one from Seal?"

"Not bad, but not...great."

"I give up," Raider said. "Let me guess: the only one making good music videos is...you."

"Of course not." Oth.e.l.lo stood up. "There must be one other person somewhere."

They both broke into laughter.

"But really," Oth.e.l.lo said. "Those people are all fine, but most of them are boring to look at. A video has got to be different from everyone else's, put the artist up on a pedestal, take the audience somewhere they've never been, create a world all its own filled with s.e.x, power, guts and images people wanna talk about."

"Mariah doesn't do that?"

"By bopping around like a little girl with the same hairdo video after video? I don't think so. Artists like mea"or Michael Jackson or Madonna and Janet, tooa"we have a vision of what we want our image and music and persona to be. And it's gotta be different and better than your Paula Abduls. I don't just bop along to somebody else's songs and do what some record company big wig tells me to do. I'm in on everything. Everything. It's much more than making catchy little songs that go in one ear and out the other. It's a whole att.i.tude, a statement, a vision."

"So what's yours then? I don't mean to sound dumba""

"I'm a true artist. I write and read music, can play my own instruments and truly sing. Plus, I've got att.i.tude and dramatics and dancing and s.e.xuality like n.o.body. Why don't you know, Raider Kincaide," he snapped his fingers and spun around once, "I'm the baddest m.u.t.h.a around!" He delivered it with a knowing smirk, achieving the desired effect of making Raider laugh. "And I can sing whatever kind of song I want and perform for all kinds of peoplea"black, white, straight, gay, rock, country westerna"h.e.l.l, I got folks in Nashville calling all the time wanting to cover 'I'll Never Be In Your Man's Shoes.' And I also do rock. h.e.l.l, 'Fun In the Sun' was basically a rock song with funk."

"I never thought about it, but you're kinda right."

"My music's all inclusive. It says: Let's get funky, let's party, let's get serious. Let's make hot, raw, pa.s.sionate love. Let's talk about relations.h.i.+ps, what people do to each other, what we're doing to the world. Let's come together, don't matter if you're black, white, straight...." he broke off, turning toward the lights to the east that made up Hollywood. "'Course, it's all kind of stilted, the s.e.xuality part anyway. Except for a few ambiguous Prince-type lyrics, I've played it pretty d.a.m.ned straight. But I do have a vision, even if I have been holding some of it back."

"The gay part."

"I guess that's what I have ACTNOW for these days."

"What all do you do for them? If you don't mind my asking."

Oth.e.l.lo threw a sideways glance toward Raider. "Right now, I just go to the meetings and give them a little cash." Then he turned to face him. "But what would you say if I told you I want to do a h.e.l.luva lot more?"

"I'd say we could use all the help we can get. How much more?"

"How much more do you think ACTNOW should do?"

"Depends." Raider stood up, nonchalantly taking in the view. "How far do they wanna go?"

"How far do you want to go, Raider Kincaide?"

"I'm still new at all this, you know, but I want whatever it takes for us to get equal rights."

"Whatever it takes," Oth.e.l.lo repeated, looking Raider squarely in the eye. "On that, we think exactly alike."

Raider sat down and tried not appear too eager to learn Oth.e.l.lo's secrets. "But why go as Joe? Why not just funnel the cash through someone else?"

"I go to listen, not so much to the meeting mumbo-jumbo, but to the guys talking about their boyfriends, their lousy jobs, roommate problems."

"Why would you want to hear about all that?"

"Because I wouldn't otherwise. It's lonely up here in the Big House, Raider. I know that must sound like the most tired line a famous person could ever say, but I am alone. I'm lonely. I've never been the type to have many friends and I either get bored or uptight around the straight people I come in contact with. Sweeney, who's usually too busy working for me, is the only gay friend I have." He sat down on the same bench as Raider. "That is, I hope, until now."

Raider had been absorbed in Oth.e.l.lo's intimate revelations. He turned to the pop star and smiled. "Looks like the day wasn't so bad after all."

Flushed with emotion, Oth.e.l.lo looked away to the lights below, hoping to hide his giddiness. "I'm so glad you came to ACTNOW," he said. "You'll be like me, watch. The more injustices you become aware of, the more anger you'll feel. Sometimes I sit in those meetings all disguised up, listening to them debating, and I want to just scream: To h.e.l.l with all that, this is what we should do."

"Which is what?"

Oth.e.l.lo turned to him with a grave expression. "Total warfare. Until we force the straight world to understand not to mess with us."

Thinking of his eight year-old boy, Raider grew nervous at the idea. As if the world didn't have enough problems. And no gay man was going to force him to do anything. "Sometimes I wonder if terrorist acts are such a good idea, Oth.e.l.lo." Felt weird, calling him Oth.e.l.lo for the first time. "The world's already changed a whole lot. People are a lot more tolerant now, aren't they?"

"When was the last time a straight person did something for you?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that one."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so hard on you. I have to remember you're still a rookie activist."

Raider chuckled. "You make it sound like a TV show."

"Raider Kincaide, Rookie Activist, this fall on Fox," Oth.e.l.lo bellowed in an announcer's voice. "I can see it now." They shared an easy laugh, then Oth.e.l.lo added: "And I'd be sure to watch it each and every week."

Raider bowed his head to the terrace to conceal the smile involuntarily stretching across his face. "So tell me, Oth.e.l.lo," he said, purposely diverting the spotlight off himself. "Is Oth.e.l.lo your real name? Or is it something like Arvid Sprugglemeyer?"

"Yes, that's my name: Arvid Sprugglemeyer. How'd you guess?" They both laughed. "No, I was born Oth.e.l.lo Hardaway in Riverside, California, in nineteen sixty-something or other."

"Nah, really?"

"Yes, really," Oth.e.l.lo said, savoring the lilt in Raider's voice. "Momma gave all of us the most bizarre names in the history of history. I have brothers named Ramses, Apollo and Hamlet, two sisters named Cleopatra and Medusa. It was awful, the c.r.a.p we used to take in school."

"So do Medusa and the gang know you're gay?"

"They're in the dark," Oth.e.l.lo said regretfully. "I only see them on holidays. Or for business meetings. I set them all up in one thing or another, restaurants, auto parts store. But we were never close. Or should I say I was never close to them?"

"Growing up, I never got along with my family either."

"They know you're gay?"

Raider scoffed. "My dad would kill me if he thought for a New York minute I was a fudge-packera"that's what he calls it, not me."

"Families," moaned Oth.e.l.lo.

"You got that right." Raider chuckled. It wasn't so bad after all, talking to a famous star like Oth.e.l.lo. For a couple of seconds here and there, Raider could even forget the guy was gay. Then again, most of the time, this glaring fact stood out and Raider could see nothing else. It was during those moments that he wanted to ask certain questions he'd never asked of anyone.

When did you first know you were gay? Why are you gay? Do you like to be the man or the woman? Have you even been with a woman? Maybe you should try it.

But Raider kept his trap shut on such matters, fearing his ignorance might blow his cover. Instead, he thought about Simi Valley and found himself laughing inwardly, but apparently not inwardly enough.

"What?" Oth.e.l.lo promptly asked.

"Nothinga"but I know I'm not going to get away with just saying that, am I?"

"Absolutely not. Tell me."

"I was just thinking about our escape today."

"What about it?"

"You..." Raider started laughing again, "don't take offense, but you...kinda run funny."

"Funny?"

"Yeah, I don't know, like a chicken or something."

"A chicken?" Oth.e.l.lo leaped up. "What do you mean a chicken?"

"Just what I said: a chicken. The way you were flapping your elbows and kinda running bow-legged like." Raider stood up and mimicked Oth.e.l.lo to ill.u.s.trate his point.

"I do not run like that, Raider Kincaide of Nantucket Island," Oth.e.l.lo protested with an ear-to-ear grin. "I was probably trying to stay in my old man forma""

"Nope. I ain't buying that, Oth.e.l.lo Hardaway of Riverside, California." Raider sat back down. "You were scared s.h.i.+tless and you were running for your life."

"Well, maybe I was, but you were, too, scared s.h.i.+tless, that is."

"Nah," Raider said, all smug. "That's called adrenaline, pure and simple."