Blind Item #8 - Letters Part Three - A Dancing Boy Blind Item

Before anyone spoke, the two security guards were joined by a studio lackey - a big, bearded man with a too-tight aqua shirt and black leather skinny tie. He chimed in first. "Is this the little fellow who let the animals out?"

"Yes sir," I said.

"Why did you do that son?"

The dancing boy shrugged, fear in his eyes.

"Do you know what kind of liability you just incurred for us?"

***** shook his head no, not even understanding what that meant.

"Well, it's a lot - I can tell you that. Those llamas are worth a fortune."

The studio doctor, a kindly-seeming man with dark hair and a foreign accent, came over. "I think the boy was concerned about the animals' welfare. Isn't that right *****?" (DB note: I didn't at the time think to wonder how this man knew my name, but I know now that his awareness of me went back to a certain network party in the late 70s, at least. Do you want to guess his country of origin? More about him to come...)

The dancing boy shook his head yes. That's when the llamas' owner, previously indifferent to the situation, and talking to his be-speckled young assistant (who in my recollection bore a close resemblance to the owner's future son), came over.

"*****, is that your name?" he asked?

"Yes sir," the dancing boy said.

"Call me by my name," he said. "Do you know what that is?"

"Yes," ***** said, smiling and blushing.

The man reached over and took the dancing boy's hand. "I want you to know how special ***** and **** are to me. They're not pets, they're family. They have a beautiful stable, and freedom to roam, and be themselves. A lot of the time they choose to be in the house with us. They eat, sleep, and play with me every day. I'd really like for you to see how well taken care of they are."

"The young man has an audition," the doctor said.

"Well, there's always afterward, isn't there?" the man said. The doctor, appearing to ignore the man, approached *****. "This is just perfunctory *****, but I need to ask you a few questions before I can let you go. Can you tell me what your name is, first and last - not your stage name?"

"***** ******."

"And what year it is?"

"1985."

"Now who is the current president?"

"Reagan. He likes jelly beans you know."

"Yes, he does. Now what about your date of birth? Can you tell me that?"

"**** 18, ****," he said.

"That's an important day for us both," the doctor said, retrieving a breathalyzer from his coat pocket. "It's the day after my own home country was turned upside down - the day I first heard of it. Now open your mouth and take a deep breath, then exhale," he said, inserting the device into *****'s mouth. He checked the results. "The boy can go," the doctor said, waving us on.

By the time we got back to the stage, the auditions had already begun, eating through half the line of boys plus one more, who had nodded off, and fallen over. Shortly later, he threw up. The assistant put up cones around it. I was the designated maid. It wouldn't be the last time.

The scene the boys read - along with a stand-in for the character's father - takes place in a supermarket. It was short, but pivotal, and charged with themes like family secrets, and protection of them vs. fidelity to the rule of law.

After the third or fourth one, I began to notice that with each new boy, the consultant would look him over, and nod his head yes if he wanted the audition to be filmed. It was almost as if he was playing favorites before even seeing them act.
When they finally got to *****, I was rooting for him to get the nod. In retrospect I almost regret it. I didn't know what would become of those boys. But he did - get the nod I mean.

Truth be told (and he doesn't mind me saying this), his audition was better than average but not great. He didn't project clearly or loudly enough to fill the room, and his body language wasn't always true to the dialog. But on the one, most important line of the scene - where he asks his father to choose between family and the law - he was nearly pitch perfect. He really sounded like that boy.

With the auditions over, the boys were treated to a reception in a neighboring office while they waited for their parent or guardian to pick them up. There, the consultant thanked them for their audition, and suggested that some of them had been invited as guests at a charity auction. It would be good for their careers, he said, as a number of wealthy and famous people would be in attendance. With that, he read the names, which included the dancing boy. The others were dismissed.

Shortly later, I heard a commotion outside, and looked out the window. A black SUV and animal trailer had pulled up, and were surrounded by the remaining boys. It was the man from earlier - the one with the llamas.

Smiling, and patting the boys' heads as he passed them, he came into the office. He spotted *****, and the consultant watched him icily as he approached him.

"He has a charity ball to go to," the consultant said, pre-emptively.

"Actually, he was invited over for a visit with my family and I."

"Do you know whose house it's at?"

"Yes," he said. "I was invited. But I declined. You do wish to continue working in this town, don't you?"

The consultant looked away, shooing ***** with his hand.

They left the office together, the dancing boy turning around to wave goodbye to me. I ran over and hugged him. It was the last I ever saw him.

From what I heard later - one of the other chosen few contacted me himself - the short-listed boys were told that they would spend the evening at a charity auction hosted by an entertainment executive and philanthropist. What they did not yet know was what was on the auction block - namely, them.

They were driven in chauffeured limousines, some of them without having contacted their parents, to this palatial home in a famous seaside town. There were apparently three entrances: one for residents and guests, the second for servants and staff, and the third for very special young visitors. You can imagine which one the boys came through.

They were led through a tunnel under the house by the exec's valet, and into an elevator. It went up several floors, and opened into a changing room.

The boys were told to undress, and each was given a red monogrammed pair of speedos to wear. Their clothes were locked in a storage closet. Then, the attendant unlocked a door to a short hall. The boys followed him to its end, a padlocked, sliding metal gate in front of a red velvet curtain. The boys  lined up in alphabetical order, and were told not to step out onto the platform until their name was called. After that, the man said, "dive into the water, and swim with the dolphins. Look like you're having the time of your life. The guests want to see happy go lucky boys. If and when you're picked, you will be netted by the staff, and lowered into the ballroom."

The man picked up the house phone, and called in to the booth. "We're ready," he said. A button was pressed, and the curtains parted.
The first boy stepped out onto the platform, waving and blowing kisses - as if making his Broadway debut. He stood over a theme park-sized salt water aquarium, full of live coral, rare sea life, and dolphins. Beyond it was a large ball room, filled with men and women. He took his bough, and dove into the water.

After the last boy was in the water - this was the passenger from part II, so placed because of his high alphabet last name - the attendant returned down the hall, and into the changing room, locking the gate and door behind him.

One by one, the boys were selected by wealthy men in attendance, including that most famous horror movie actor, and the legendary foreign-born/Oscar-winning director. His most famous film involves an old profession, but his most personal film was inspired by his own real life relationship with a teen boy. When they were picked, a studio crane with two men in the bucket was deployed, hovering over the tank where the boy swam. Together, they inserted a large marine net into the water, scooping each boy out like lobsters in a restaurant tank, and delivering them to men on the ball room floor. They were given robes, but nothing more. They would go home with the men.

So, you're wondering, what happened to *****. In a word, nothing. He and the boys who didn't make the cut, with their parents' permission, spent a pleasant evening at home with he and some of the family at his mansion. One of the brothers grilled, and in between calls from the label, his broker, and at least one old friend, he talked enthusiastically about some of his favorite movies, including that late 1960s musical. Afterward, they watched the recent movie from the child actor turned director on the theme of eternal youth. They swam in the pool that night, another brother pranking them by turning off the pool light. "Knock it off *****," the host said. Big brothers will be big brothers, I guess, regardless of how famous you are. The boys slept in sleeping bags on the floor of a living room, just as they did at their friend's birthday party. They ate a breakfast of French toast and sausages. The host greeted their parents, and in some cases siblings, when they came to fetch the boys. There were pictures taken, and autographs signed. It was, according to the dancing boy, all so extraordinary, and yet so ordinary.

A few weeks later, I learned that the consultant had been fired, and replaced by a seasoned professional. It seems that one of the mothers had complained.

As for the movie, you may or may not have seen it. It flopped in theaters, earning back only half its cost - but many of you will know the story. It was based on the first installment of a best-selling book series, and would be remade in later years with the actual book title. In fact, the whole reason it got to be remade is because a little more than a half-decade after this original outing, the second installment in the series was made (with different cast, etc), and became a sleeper hit + awards sweeper.

PS I'm on Twitter now as the dancing boy.