Page 263 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 233

January Guggenheim finished shooting her television special in a
glorious late October, days before Halloween 1979. Her last three days of
shooting featured Kick posing, pumped and oiled, on the rocky outcrop-
pings of Corona Heights with the Castro spread out below his feet. She
flew to El Lay to complete her editing.
“You must come down,” she said to Ryan over the phone. “I need a
rewrite concerning the Opel matter. I mean Death can change things
substantially. Of course, Kick can come. You can stay with me. Oh, yes,
and, darling, if she’s free, bring Kweenie. We’ll have such fun.”
Late the following March, The New Homosexuals scored an okay 11
share of the viewing audience. That was more than enough to make Janu-
ary come off a difficult subject smelling like a rose.
The critics liked it.
The public liked it.
One too many viewers liked it.
In San Diego, lying on his couch, a tall, dark-haired bodybuilder, who
by that time had run through all the cash-and-drug pals he ever had, sat
bolt upright when January’s camera first closed in for a two-shot of Ryan
and Kick.
“I recognize you two,” he said. “So that’s what you’re up to.”
At Kick’s first contest, Ryan had sat next to what looked to be three
powerlifters.
The dark bodybuilder recognized Ryan on his TV screen. “Fuck! I
thought the geek was lying when he said he knew Blondie.”
Then he saw Kick take his arm from around Ryan’s shoulder and glide
into his posing routine.
All alone, the dark bodybuilder, hardening with the intensity of mus-
cle lust, stared in wonder at the golden man of bodybuilding on his TV
screen, and announced, “Whoa! I’m gonna get me some of you!”
As simple as that, the serpent once again entered Eden.
This time his name was Logan Doyle.

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