One warm day in Paris, 1990 Kris sat down to write his story. His and Adam's story.
"Once there was a strange and enchanted boy. He travelled far away. He was wise but penniless. It was 1899, the summer of love, the Bohemian revolution. He wanted nothing more then to write about truth, freedom, beauty and most of all love. But he didn't know anything about love in till he met him. He was the most beautiful of all the dancers at the notorious Moulin rouge. He was the one he loved. Loved, past tense, not anymore."
"You and your ridiculous obsession with love,'' his father had told him. But he had never been in love.
He moved to Momatre, Paris. It wasn't the dirty hell his father had told him it was, it was thriving with Bohemian art and music.
As he sat down in front of his typewriter trying to write about an unknown love an unconscious Indian fell through his ceiling followed by his door be banged open by a tiny effeminate man dressed as a nun.
It turned out the Indian called Anoop who had narcolepsy and the man dressed as the nun was Brad and they were performing a play upstairs.
"We need a new Swiss writer,'' said a tall man dressed in a colourful outfit. " Where are we going to find another actor?'' Brad look up at him. That is how Kris found himself stood on a ladder dressed in lederhosen.
"The hills are sparkling with the bedazzlement of the world,'' Brad recites.
"No, no,'' the piano player called Matt says.
"The hill…'' Kris starts.
"The hills are alive with glorious illusion of sounds.''
"The hills are alive with the sound of music!'' Kris yelled.
"That's, that's…'' Brad starts.
"Brilliant,'' Anoop finishes before collapsing again.
"Well it's okay,'' says Drake, the director of the production.
"With songs they have sung for a thousand years.''
"He's a genius!'' Brad proclaims.
"You must write this show!'' Matt says.
"I don't think so,'' Drake interrupts.
"He must,'' Anoop adds.
"If he writes then I will not be part of it,'' Drake says crossing his long arms. Five minutes later Drake had packed his bags and left.
"You are the voice of the Bohemians!'' Brad says.
"I'm not sure about that,'' Kris says, shyly.
"Do you believe in freedom?'' Brad asks Kris.
"Yes.''
"Truth?''
"Yes.''
"Beauty?''
"Yes.''
"Love?''
"Yes, love is like oxygen. Love lives us up where we belong. All we need is love.''
"He's the one!'' Matt says, looking at Kris starry-eyed.
That night I got my first taste of absinthe as Brad devised a plan to get our production noticed. He would dress me up as a famous English poet to get me to meet Adam.
The next night I get my first taste of the Moulin rouge.
The Moulin rouge was a bordello, a nightclub, a kingdom of sin: where the rich went to play with the young, beautiful creatures of the underworld.
It was full of all kinds of wonderful sights. Curvy ladies in frilly skirts and platforms shoes, skinny men in top hats and sparkly waistcoats over their burly shoulders, over sized ladies spilling over their corsets, anything you could desire Cowel's girls provided it.
Simon Cowel owned the establishment, he was the ringmaster of Parisian fantasies.
We sat on the balcony and observed the multi colour frills as the dancers danced. Then the lights dimmed and a sparkle of light appeared.
"There he is, the sparkling diamond,'' Brad says. Every man in the room was looking up. A swing was lowered down from the ceiling. He was wearing a sparkling silver corset that dazzled in the light, short black shorts that showed off an impressive bulge, black fishnet stocking that were held up with garters and silver platform boots. As the swing lowered the man's face come into Kris' view. He was beautiful in every sense. A sculpted face; his sharp blue-grey eyes were lined with black kohl, full glossy lips, a strong jaw line. His hair was dark and thick, streaked with blue and it framed his face.
"How do you do, I see you've met my…'' he starts to sing, his strong voice laced with sexiness. " Faithful handy man,'' Cowel prances on the stage in his ringmaster outfit. " When I arrived he thought I was the candy man,'' he lands on the stage "Don't get strung out by the way I look. Don't judge a book by it's cover,'' he shimmies and stamps his foot in time to the music "I'm not much of a man by the light of day but by night I'm one hell of a lover'' he winked at a man and rubbed his ass against the customer's ass. "I'm just a sweet transvestite for transsexual Transylvania,'' he thrusts his hips "Let me show you around, maybe play you a song. You look like you're both pretty groovy,'' he points a painted nail at a group of arty looking men " Or if you want something visual,'' he runs his hand down his lithe body "that's not too abysmal, we could take in a nice show.''
"Isn't he something?'' whispers Matt. Kris could do nothing but nod, not wanting to take his eyes of the boy. He disappears behind large pink feathers, held up by dancers.
"How is he gonna' want to meet me?'' Kris asks.
"Don't fear, I have a plan,'' Brad says.
Brad knew something that I didn't. Cowel's investor, The Duke, was also set to meet Adam that night.
"If you nail this tonight we'll have an investor. You know what that means?'' Cowel asks.
"I'll be an actor, a real actor,'' Adam replies as dancers fussed around him changing his outfit.
"Yep.''
"What is he into. Wilting flower, smouldering tempter or fiery seducer?''
"Smouldering tempter,'' Cowel replies. Adam gives him his best 'come hither' look.
"Which one is he?''
"Smart suit, top hat,'' Cowel looks up on the balcony to see Brad has knocked into a waiter, spilling drinks over The Duke.
"Let me help you,'' Brad says, wiping his shirt with his handkerchief.
"The one Brad Bell is waving a handkerchief at,'' Cowel adds. Adam looks up to see Brad waving a chief at Kris.
"Really? He looks a little young.'' Cowel looks up to see Brad wiping The Duke's shirt.
" Yep, go up and do your stuff.''
Adam emerges from the feathers in a light pink corset with a feathery tail.
"I'm just a sweet transvestite for transsexual Transylvania,'' he sings again " Why don't you stay for the night,'' he points at Kris. Kris stares wide eyed "Or maybe a bite. I could show you my favourite obsession.'' He gets back onto the swing which lifts up to the balcony where Kris sat.
"I'm sorry lads,'' Adam replies to the chorus of boos " Bloke's choice.'' Adam bends over and whispers in Kris' ear " And you are in for a fun night.'' He kisses down Kris' neck.
"I want to show you some of my poetry,'' Kris says to him.
"Poetry? Is that what you call it?'' Adam says. He pulls a mock-shock face. " This filthy boy needs a good clean.'' He bends over and pushes his feathered tail into Kris' face.
"A-dam! A-dam,'' the crowd jeers. He shakes his feathered ass into the young man's face. He turns around and pout and winks at Kris before getting back on his ladder.
As the swing went out towards the ceiling Adam coughed before falling, slowly off it. A burly male dancer caught him before he hit the floor and carried him, quickly, backstage.
"Bravo, bravo,'' Cowel said, as if it was all part of the act. "Now who fancies a tantalizing tango? The dancers appear in red dress outfits and flowers in their hair.
Adam comes around backstage, coughing slightly.
"These silly costumes,'' he says. Dancer Megan gives him some water. She hands him a tissue in which he coughs. When he returns the tissue it has speckles of blood on it.