The life of rock star, Dorian Gray and his lover, award winning film director Scott Newland, has been filled with highs and lows. Their love has transcended drug addiction and insecurities, but will it survive another’s revenge against Dorian?
Lead singer Dorian Gray, whose real life as David Niewitski is far different from his stage persona. Dorian is sensual, brazen and bold. Tall and handsome, he commands the stage. David has the voice of an angel and with his band, Absinthe, he reaches the top, but his personal life is a roller coaster of drug addiction, insecurities and a long-term relationship he fights to hold onto.
Scott Newland, award winning film director, has known David since they were children. They became lovers in their teens and eventually marry. He loves his husband, but tries to protect David’s deaf mother and loving father from their son’s self-destructive personality. David’s head strong personality, drug addiction, and his need to control places them all in danger.
This story shows the progression of these two men from friends to lovers and a backstage look at what a rock star faces onstage and off. As David would say, “My Name is Dorian Gray and I’m here For Your Entertainment.”
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First Meeting
Scott looked up at the boy who was shielding him from the unforgiving sun. The boy was tall. He dressed like everyone else in this neighborhood. No one here had a lot of money to spend on anything fashionable. Most settled for cheap or thrift store finds. The kid’s black, horn-rimmed prescription glasses peeked out of the pocket of the pale plaid button-up shirt. Discount store tennis shoes graced his large feet.
He didn’t look like he’d have a computer of his own, but maybe they had something in common and were willing to work for what they wanted. If that was the case, then this was someone he’d like to get to know better.
Scott smiled. He stuck out his hand, offering it to his subject. “I’m Scotty Newland.”
“David Niewitski.”
Scott nodded, “You’ve got a good voice, Davey and you’re very photogenic. Even with images this small I can tell that.”
“You think so? I think I’m pretty ordinary.”
“Your eyes are amazing.”
The boy looked away, embarrassed. “They’re my Dad’s.”
“What song were you singing? It’s good.”
“It’s mine. I wrote it.” David smiled shyly, “Thanks.” He looked at the images again, “We could go to my house, it’s only a couple of blocks. We could use my computer.” He repeated his offer as he glanced down at the ground.
Scott grinned. “Your parents won’t mind if you bring a friend home without letting them know ahead of time?”
David shook his head, “We’re kind of new here. My Mom would like it if I had a friend. I really don’t have any.”
“Really?” Scott stood and tipped his skateboard into his hand then tucked it under his arm. “Let’s go to your place then and see what kind of trouble we can get into.”
David stood, smiling broadly and his eyes showed his obvious delight. He slung his guitar so it lay across his back and with a nod of his head, he led the way toward his house. On the way, they started to find out what they had in common. They both considered themselves creative. David told Scott he wanted to write music and become a famous singer one day. Scott, on the other hand, told his new friend about his dreams to be a photojournalist or a Hollywood director. As they walked Scott told his quiet friend how he would remake the movies he’d recently seen. How he would change this thing or another bit that didn’t work for him. While David chimed in with how he would change the musical score of this or that film, mostly sci-fi, to enhance the drama of the film. They both agreed they had no desire to become actors which was everyone else’s dream of those who lived in their area of Silverlake.
They zigzagged through the back alleys and then David pushed his way through a small gate into a high fenced backyard. The lemon and grapefruit trees smelled sweet and almost overshadowed the avocado in the corner of the yard. Coming in through the patio door, David didn’t bother to call out, even though Scott could see an older woman washing dishes at the kitchen sink. He watched as David walked over to the woman and gently touched her on the shoulder. The petite, dark-haired woman reached out to grab a dish towel before turning to David. She looked at him with dark brown, intense eyes as he began to gesticulate with his hands. “Mom, me and Scotty are going to my room to use my computer, okay?”
The woman looked puzzled and signed her reply, Scotty?
He’s my new friend.
David’s mother looked over at the boy standing in the doorway to the kitchen and waved. She smiled sweetly. Scott noted that David may have his father’s eyes, but he definitely had his mother’s smile. She turned and went back to washing dishes. David gestured for Scott to follow him.
My mother now regrets her fateful words she offered the day I came home from our small town library in Palm Springs, California (yes, I’m a Cali girl) complaining that there were no more books to read. “Then why don’t you write some.”
My father never saw his old Remington portable until I entered college and they gifted me an IBM Selectric. By then I had produced at least two dozen unpublishable novels which make me cringe when I read them today.
I found inspiration in innumerable odd jobs (from migrant work as a Date palm pollinator to the person who cleans the washing machines at the launderette to professional Dominatrix) for stories. After a stint in Rehab for Alcohol and Heroin abuse (so when I write those scenes, I know what I’m talking about), I cleaned up and have stayed that way for 29 years. (Me and Sir Elton, LOL). My gypsy lifestyle gave me a unique perspective on the different people who inhabited the Washington, Oregon, Arizona, California, and New Mexico areas where I have lived.
After 3 very bad marriages to men, I finally figured out what was wrong and fell in love with a woman when I lived in Portland, OR 23 years ago. We’ve been married since 2008 (yes it was legal in California at that time). We now live in Asheville, NC and love the people in this liberal and accepting corner of the mountains of North Carolina.
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