Peter was in a flannel shirt and jeans, complimented with leather cowboy boots and a brown belt. Kind of a nice look, sort of a Mountain Boy but with a hearing aid. But the haircut was really special.
It wasn't anything wild, in fact it was somewhat conservative, with a bit of gel at the front to create kind of a ridge to accent his forehead. But it was so careful and scrupulously done that he couldn't help but be impressed. He knew right away that Peter would love it."
"He babe, check this out!" Peter called out when he saw him. "Not that I could ever afford to do this regularly. But when a couple people work on you and they've got time and money, hey, they can do a lot!"
"Yea, it does look great," Marty replied as people continued to tweak Peter's clothes and hair. "Just don't get used to it" he said with a laugh. "I'm not sure that we can afford to keep it up."
"Oh, by the way, have you heard anything from Bik or Laura?" He asked. "I had to put my phone in the locker and so I don't know what's going on.
"No, nothing yet. I got a text a few minutes ago from your Pop, asking how it was going for us. But he said there was no news."
"Ok. Well, I guess I'll just be incommunicado for a few hours," he replied. "I just hope nothing big happens."
Sensing that they wanted to get on with their work and keep Peter focused, Marty gave him a wink as he stepped back to the periphery of the set. They were moving lights, chairs, cameras, reflecting umbrellas, it seemed the the whole set was in motion. Besides thinking of his partner as the `star' of the show, a thought that Peter would have definitely discouraged, it was fun just watching the choreography of the whole setup.
As he continued to watch everyone working, he recalled Peter's earlier opines that most of these people are totally jaded about the looks of the `talent' that they temporarily served. Besides some natural resentment and jealousy for anyone who is the center of attention, they see good looking women and guys all day, every day, week in and week out, so it's not such a big deal to anyone. "The models may as well be carefully placed artichokes for food photographers' Peter had had claimed. "That's what they think of all this."
Just seeing the intensity of the activity, he could almost believe it. Wardrobers, carpenters, set technicians, everyone seemed to be going about their jobs in the most conventional and professional way. If you were not actually on the set, and watching from a little more distance, it was hardly different from what he himself was doing in the garage. It appeared that they didn't think of anyone as being `special.'
Yet the murmuring he was starting to hear told him something different. He turned his anonymity to advantage as he just leaned one way or the other to overhear various comments and conversations. He didn't consider it eavesdropping -- he was just gathering intelligence for Peter.
Marty was standing behind the rather portly director as he spoke into the ear of the photographer. "Jesus Christ, I see a million striking guys in this business. But I've got to say, this one has really got a great look. Nice face, smile, looks classy. And it seems like he's got a good body or at least keeps himself in shape. And now with this haircut -- wow! He makes my job easy."
"Me too," replied the photographer, a tall, rather handsome guy in his mid-thirties. "Most of these dudes, especially the Abercrombie types, look so cheap. Hey, nothing wrong with cheap, I'm proud to think of myself that way," he proclaimed, as they both laughed. "But this guy is something else. Thin lips. square jaw. fantastic smile. The whole package. And I won't have to do a lot of Photoshop work to fix the bloodshot eyes or the overdone lips."
"Christ, on some of them I've even got to cover up the needle marks," he added.
"Anyway, I hope that he's at least dumb, then I won't have to be jealous. The few guys I see like this tend to be, well, blondes, he said as they both smirked.
"Well, unfortunately for you, this guy is a student at Williams or Amherst or someplace like that, so he can probably read and write," he said, "Which is probably more than I can say for some of the trash that you take out."
"Prick!" the photographer shot back.
The director just smiled, and then looked as his watch. "And speaking of reading and writing and getting work done, we've got to get going here."
Raising his voice above the general racket of the conversations around him, he yelled out, "OK, everyone, let's get moving. Peter, if you'd come over here we can get started."
Recalling quickly what he needed to do, he walked over and stood in front of the director, who asked him to turn around several times, put his fingers on Peter's new hair, then stared into his face. Peter could tell that he focused on the hearing aid for the briefest of moments, then seemed to take a deep breath and sighed.
"I think we have one slight problem here..." he started to say.
"And what's that?" Peter replied, an edge suddenly coming into his voice.
Rick was about to step in. He had already explained Peter's attitude about the hearing aid but suddenly felt that in spite of it that his deal might start to unravel.
"We don't have a problem with the hearing aid, as such, Peter. But there is one issue."
"What's that?" he replied, his attitude unchanged. By this time Marty had started to move close to him, ignoring the earlier admonitions to keep away from the main set.
"Well, here's the deal. Our sponsor owns a company that doesn't make this device. In fact, it's made by their main rival. The they're fine with a device per se, in fact they think that they may even want to feature it and get some pics later on for other media. But you need to wear one of their products."
"That doesn't work," Peter protested. "It needs to be fit and tested by an audiologist and all that. You just don't go out and buy one and stick it in your ear. It's not a piece of jewelry."
"I know that, or at least I just learned it last week, as I was told when I showed your pics to the sponsor."
"I'm not going do this without a hearing aid. I'm not going to hide it. That was the deal!" he declared. Marty could see the anger in his face. And the set was completely silent.
"We know it's important to you," he replied. "Boy, do we know. Rick gave us an earful on this, so we know that it's a big deal. So we'd like to do this. We understand that you can hear somewhat without the hearing aid. As I said, we'd like you to wear one. It just won't be a working model."
As he spoke he handed a newer one over to Peter. It was in incredible, sculptural object, way more over the top than anything he had ever worn, or even seen. He held it in his hand then up to the light. If he thought his current device was an Acura, this thing was a Ferrari, a miniature red jewel with just a hint of chrome trim. He guessed that it might even be Italian.
But it was a just a shell, without any working parts inside. So there wasn't even a hope making it functional.
He couldn't help but see the irony of the situation. He can win the symbolic battle of having his hearing aid in -- but spend the entire day struggling to understand everyone.
"You OK?" Marty asked him, acutely aware of Peter's predicament
He looked up at the ceiling, than straight ahead, but at nothing in particular. Even though he was concerned, Peter kept his breathing in check and seemed to be in control, though he was clearly struggling with his decision.
"We'll, all these people are here already, and it's only for a couple days. So I guess I'll manage," he said, the struggle in his voice apparent to Marty. "So let's do it."
It was if the whole studio let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Well, that's great. Sorry for the misunderstanding, but things move fast in this business. And speaking of moving fast, let's all get going now," he said as he began to bark our orders in all directions.
There were a couple of sets set up next to each other. One was very minimal, with just a white background and a stool, more for feature shots. The other was set up like the lower third of maybe the Great Room of an old lodge. It had mission-style furniture, with a fireplace made up of massive (faux) boulders topped off with a huge pair of (real) deer antlers, the entire tableaux focused on a (faux) bearskin rug. Even though the nearby electronics and lighting didn't exactly add to the atmosphere, at least for those who were on the set, what was within the viewfinder of the camera was very convincing.
Peter was asked to starting off in various poses near the fireplace. It was interesting for Marty to watch him rotate into the different positions, each one meant to show off some feature of the various artifacts of clothing but also capture Peter's presence in it, too. Sometimes he'd look straight at the camera, sometimes at his watch (when that was the feature) and other times gazing lovingly at a female model posing as his presumed wife/girlfriend/partner.
He had anticipated that while he'd be way out of practice and need some time to readjust himself, but it was further complicated by the aural void, or close to it. He had never really tried to function without a hearing aid in his right ear since he was a kid, so he began to realize pretty quickly how much it did for him.
While he could generally hear and get sounds, things were fairly muddled unless someone was up close, at least on that weak right side. Eventually, the director took to coming right up to him for each command. And the banter and jokes that people made around the set, a staple of this kind of work, often went by him unnoticed until he saw everyone else laughing.
After the initial shooting cycle, the director asked Peter to change to a different style of shirt. "You can keep everything else the same, just change the shirt. Go ahead and do it right here, so we don't get behind schedule," he said, some impatience in his voice as the wardrobe assistant handed Peter the next item.
As he took the shirt a couple of the production assistants seemed to have their hands all over him, straightening up his pants and tweaking his hair. He didn't remember being touched so much before, but everyone seemed to have some excuse to get their hands on him. One even offered to unbutton Peter's shirt,
"Wh...what?" Peter asked, almost certain that his bad hearing had fooled him into thinking that someone had actually asked that question. When it was unmistakably offered a second time, he politely said that he could handle it himself.
Peter took the new long-sleeve plaid shirt and a lighter colored t-shirt and laid them on the nearby couch. Carefully unbuttoning the shirt he had on, he handed it over to the obviously disappointed wardrober and then pulled his t-shirt over his head and handed that to the same guy. His bare torso was now fully displayed under the bright lights.
"Whoa!" Marty heard a couple people murmur.
Peter looked around, a perplexed look on his face. He thought that he had heard some kind of commotion, but couldn't tell where it came from.
"Nothing, nothing..." another wardrobe person, a young woman, called out. "You can just put the new stuff on now. No rush, take your time, we've got to move some furniture around anyway..." she said, gesturing toward the set designers who were exchanging a couch for two chairs. Meanwhile, her eyes (and a few other peoples) locked onto Peter's body.
If he noticed anything he didn't show it, except that Marty did seem to think that Peter was getting a bit red. But maybe that was just makeup he hadn't observed before.
While they were waiting for the final furniture placement, Rick who had hung around for a few more minutes, called Peter to the side of the staged area.
"Hey, looks like you put on some muscle there. Look at those arms," he said as he pointed to shoulder bulge where his biceps and triceps now had a ridged contrast with his gently mounded shoulders. Rick was as straight as an arrow, but in this business he had to notice what other people noticed, gay or straight.
"They're not really much," he noted. "I've been working out and all at school, but I'm not trying to get big or anything like that."
"No, no you're not too big at all. But I remember you as being kind of a lanky kid. You're still slim, of course, but you've filled out pretty well. You'll look even better than I thought in gym clothes. They don't want guys who look too huge. They like them in the `fit' range, quote-unquote, but definitely on the muscular side. And you're pretty good there.
Marty now realized that Peter was indeed turning red. He knew that his partner had certainly put on some muscle during their workouts. But the goal was never to build up big. It was just something they did together to relax, with a few fringe benefits on the side.
Yet his hunky appearance under these lighting conditions was undeniable. It cast strong shadows, which especially emphasized the cuts and definition on a lean body like Peter's. His stomach ridges looked like a true `six pack,' and even his arms looked cut and defined.
As soon as Rick was done talking, he saw Peter practically dive into the new shirts they gave him. He never saw him put something on so fast.
"He'll be back in a real soon," Marty heard Cathy call out to him as he came into the set area. "He's gone to the wardrobe room for a couple minutes, they just need to do some fitting for the work tomorrow, you can wait here."
"OK, thanks Cathy," Marty replied.
"No problem. He's been a pleasure. Now take care of him and bring him back in one piece tomorrow, OK?"
"Will do," he responded. And thanks for bringing him to me in one piece."
"No problem!" she added.
Except for the set itself, which was neat but practically unrecognizable from the morning when he left, the place was a mess. 'The cleanup crew has a lot dumped on them,' he thought, remembering that it seemed much tidier when they had arrived that morning.
But it was all but abandoned by people. He wandered around the area for a few minutes, looking at the carpentry at the back of the fake fireplace and trying to figure out how it stood up without being connected to a ceiling.
After a few minutes, he moved around and started poking around behind some of the other props until he heard a familiar, "hey, babe," behind him. The fatigue in the voice was undeniable.
As he turned around and saw him, Marty remarked, "wow, you look beat!" It had been almost 10 hours since he had left and Peter's slow movement, disheveled hair and slight slouch were witnesses to a long,hard day.
Peter exhaled heavily, his whole body arching up then letting out a deep breath. "I'd forgotten how hard this work was. Gosh, sometimes it felt like I was standing there forever, waiting for them to take a shot or someone else to get into position or something," he continued as he picked up his back pack and motioned toward the door. "I think I earned my money today, and more," he said.
"But enough about this stuff," he said as he paused and turned toward Marty. "So how was your day? I got your text at lunch, when you met up with Wei, I loved that picture of you guys. Oh, yea, and have you heard anything from Bik?"
"I'm good, and no news from Bik. But let's do first things, first, OK?" Marty said as he reached over and gently held Peter's neck, momentarily keeping him in place. He could feel the tension in the muscles, the usual suppleness completely gone as he now began to give it a gentle massage.
"Oh......that feels so good...." he said, motionless, soaking up the attention to his aching body.
Marty continued the stroking, not saying a word, until he felt it loosen up a bit.
"Are you about ready now?
Peter just reached up and squeezed his hand. "um...not if you keep doing this. I think I want to stay here all night" he said, rolling his head back, absorbing all he could. "ahh...that's a good place, right there," he cried out. "Right near my ear. Just where I thought it would be."
He continued for a few moments, focusing on the area behind Peter's right ear. "I know this helps, but you really need to get to bed, Pete. What do you say we continue this back at the hotel, after you've showered and are ready for bed.
"hmmm...' He only mumbled, as he adjusted his small pack up higher on his shoulder, silent acknowledgement of his assent, and then led the way over to the elevators.
Even though the hotel was not far, Marty was assuming that they'd take a cab. But the exposure to the fresh air seemed to invigorate Peter who prevailed on him to stroll home instead.
"Ah...this feels great!" He declared as they started walking. "I haven't had fresh air all day."
The noise of traffic and sounds of distant sirens and car horns made for a background that they were not used to back home in their suburb, not to mention the rural setting of their college in western Massachusetts. But it was nonetheless relaxing and therapeutic in its own way for both of them as they soaked up the unique atmosphere of downtown New York on a warm summer evening.
"So were the shoots really pretty tough? Did they mess around with you a lot," Marty asked, remembering some of the over-attention that Peter had received that morning.
Peter rolled his head back, both to relax himself and to take in the view of a particularly tall apartment tower next to them.
"The shoots themselves were pretty much as I remembered them, though these people here are a lot more professional and sophisticated than what I had years ago. But most of the problems came from the not having my hearing aid."
"Could you figure out what they were saying to you?"
"Mostly, but there were probably a few misses that I wasn't aware of."
"Does that bother you?"
"You know, I have to say, I think that's a big part of why I felt kind of worn down. I still have this feeling, from when I was a kid, that people thought I was dumb because I couldn't hear them. So I try as hard as I can to catch them."
"They thought THAT?" Marty asked, incredulous. "But you did really well in school."
"Grades are one thing, but when you don't hear someone it's different. It's kind of a natural reaction, I guess, at least that's what one of my audiologists told me. Like if someone doesn't understand English when you're speaking to them, for some people the first reaction is that they're dumb."
"jeesh," Marty said. "That's unfortunate, but I guess it's true."
"With me it's my hearing of course, but like I said, you have the same thing with foreign languages. Tourists do it all the time, it's just unconscious, at least for some people," he responded, then continued with a slight smile.
"Actually,not considering hearing impaired things for a sec, I always found it funny when people who have a language barrier think that they can just talk louder and they'll be understood."
"Oh yea! I've heard of that, Wei says he sees it at his parent's restaurant in Chinatown all the time, especially with tourists. He said that they'll shout or talk slow, like that will work," he said laughing for a moment before his voice became serious again.
"Do you think people thought that about you today? That you weren't smart?
"I don't think so, or at least I hope not, because I don't think in the end that I really had many problems with understanding. It's just that I had to work so hard just to get to that level. I could never just relax and listen to someone, I almost always had to turn my good ear toward them and be alert. I didn't want to ask them to repeat themselves any more that I had to, because that irritates some people. So on top of all the basic work for all the posing and all, it was just another layer of hassle."
"Do you think that anyone actually noticed how hard it was for you?"
"hmmm...I'm not sure. At least they weren't obvious if they were. But I also have to say that people were pretty close to me to for a lot of this, with make-up and wardrobe changes and all. So perhaps that helped a bit." Peter said as they approached the corner.
With the slightest of gestures of his head he directed Peter to turn right for the final couple blocks to the hotel. "Speaking of close up, it looks like you got a lot of personal attention up there," he said with a slight smirk.
"Oh...you noticed, too!" Peter responded, not able to hold in his own smile. "Gosh, I couldn't believe some of those guys. They were real experts at pushing the edge. They seemed to take every chance they had to feel me up, but not...quite...do it." he said, stretching out the words.
"I wasn't sure if I was being, um... jealous or not, but it seemed a little unusual for a guy to offer to unbutton your shirt, even in this business." Marty said.
"That guy was the worst!" Peter exclaimed, "He took every opportunity to paw me up. I was getting a bit worried there, and thought I might need to call him out. But then he went onto some other project mid-morning and we never saw him again."
"You don't think that maybe he went to the john to wack-off?"
Peter wanted to respond, but the words couldn't push aside the imminent laughter. So he just stopped and stared. He was about to raise his finger, about to wag it at him in lecture mode, when he just stared laughing, and he couldn't move until Marty grabbed him by the waist and led him the rest of the way to the hotel.
When they were almost to their room, they both felt their phones vibrate from a text messages, Marty just a few moments after Peter. "One sec, let's see who this is," Peter said as he paused in the hallway and looked at his phone. It was a picture of Bik and Laura, but a certain picture with Bik on the left that identified it as coming from his phone. He clicked on the message.
"It's a girl -- and a boy!"