When the Stars Come Out (47 page)

Scott
. . .
oh, and, of course, the great actress, Kitty Randolph. I guess you could say I’ve learned a lot from the Randolph-Scott family.”

Jason waited for the laugh he expected. Only two old-timers got

it, so he continued.

“Recently I met a third member of that family, Q. J.’s father,

Quinn Scott. I guess I don’t have to tell you who he is . . .”

W H E N T H E S T A R S C O M E O U T

313

This time he got his laugh. Jason smiled.

“I feel some shame, because I didn’t treat Mr. Scott with the re-

spect he deserved on the set. As you know, I am a perfectionist
. . .

and, as you also know, Mr. Scott had some problems on the set

which, it turns out, were unrelated to his skills as an actor.”

A smattering of applause. Jason smiled.

“As the week went on, though, I gained a great appreciation for

Quinn Scott. He is a brave man. Now, I have to admit that I was a

bit put off to learn that my costar was going to be America’s newest gay icon . . .”

Laughter. And Jason did not smile.

“. . . but—could I have quiet please? Thank you. But as I got to

know him, I got over my own, um, prejudices. And then I took the

time to read his book, and, well
. . .
I had heard that the book would make older gay people brave, and help older gay people

embrace their sexuality, but I have to disagree. I think a lot of

people—young and old, gay and straight, male and female—can

learn lessons from Quinn Scott’s journey. I know that I did. I am

glad I read
When the Stars Come Out
, and I think everyone should read it.”

The Los Angeles Times
reporter leaned over to Kelly Rhule and whispered, “Where’s he going with this?” She could only shake her

head in confusion.

“And I know this,” said Jason, noticing that his knuckles were white from their grip on the podium, “because I am gay.”

The room was silent, except for the thump Kelly Rhule’s body

made as it slumped to the floor.

The silence continued.

“What?” the
People
stringer finally asked.

“I’m gay.”

“Happy gay or homosexually gay?” asked the reporter from
Variety
.

“Homosexually gay.”

“You mean you don’t have cancer?” asked the stringer.

Jason St. Clair looked at him. “What?”

The stringer withdrew. “It was just a rumor.”

Jason shook his head. “Listen, folks, I know you’re probably sur-

prised, and—to tell you the truth—I’m sort of surprised that I’m

sharing this with you. But Quinn Scott’s courage has led me to this 314

R o b B y r n e s

place, and I don’t want to play the rumor game anymore. I, Jason

St. Clair, star of
The Brothers-in-Law,
am a gay American actor. And I’m proud of that, and will always be thankful to Quinn Scott for

giving me the courage to come out of the closet and state this publicly. Now if there are any questions . . .”

Epilogue

So now we’re to Act Three. I don’t know all the specifics of

how the third act will play out, but I can tell you that this story has been far more comedy than tragedy.

It always is, when the stars come out.

That’s a wrap. Cut and print.

Southampton, New York, September 2007

“C
oming up after our break, Barbara Walters talks to film legend Kitty Randolph. Her life, her loves, and her losses. Stay tuned.”

A Jaguar commercial came up on the screen and Quinn Scott

turned from his perch on the ottoman, pulled close to the televi-

sion to accommodate his eyesight. Yet another damn thing that was

failing him.

“Do you think I’m a love or a loss?” he asked.

“Both,” said Jimmy, sitting behind him on the couch. “But I

couldn’t begin to tell you which in which order.”

“Don’t start, guys,” said Bart, on the couch between Jimmy and

Noah. “You’re going to talk straight through the interview.”

They sat in silence, watching the luxury car zip along a generic

mountain highway. Finally the screen shifted abruptly into a

McDonald’s commercial. Fast, expensive cars could hold Quinn’s

attention; but not fast, inexpensive food.

“I’ve been waiting two months for this fucking interview,” he

said gruffly.

“Language,” Jimmy cautioned.

“Fuck language. If that bitch starts with me
. . .
Noah, we’re calling your father, right? And we’re suing her into oblivion?”

“That’s right, Quinn,” said Noah, indulging him. “Oblivion.”

“Oblivion. She’ll be washing dishes in Hoboken when I get

through with her.”

“Actually,” said Bart, “Hoboken is quite upscale these days.”

“I meant Hoboken, Indiana,” said Quinn, with a determination

that almost made one believe that’s exactly what he had meant. If

anyone had been inclined to challenge him—which no one was, of

course—he short-circuited that thought when the McDonald’s com-

mercial ended and he “
shushed
” his companions into silence.

On the screen, lights gradually illuminated Barbara Walters,

transitioning her from silhouette to full-color interviewer. And

then she spoke. Enthusiastically.

W H E N T H E S T A R S C O M E O U T

317

“Kitty
Randolph!
For over fifty years, she’s been a Hollywood icon. The naïve ingénue . . .” A very young Kitty, circa 1957, appeared on the screen, bickering playfully with Mickey Rooney in

some long-forgotten movie.

“The sophisticated woman looking for career and love, with a

song in her heart . . .” Kitty, circa 1970, and, yes, it was a clip from
When The Stars Come Out
. Her costar and then-husband could be seen off to the side of the screen, visible for only a split-second before Barbara Walters moved on.

“The television pioneer

.

.

.” Circa 1974. A fortyish Kitty,

wrapped in a sensible sweater as she and her TV family filled the

screen. No critic would have ever claimed that
The Kitty Randolph
Show
made her a television “pioneer,” but no critics were conducting this interview.

“The survivor.” Circa 2004. Kitty in a classic clip from
Marriage
Penalty
, about to unleash her foul mouth on George Clooney.

The introduction continued: “Over the years, Kitty Randolph

has had her share of triumphs—three Academy Awards, an Emmy,

and tens of millions of fans—but she’s also known heartache.”

Quinn muttered, “
She
knows heartache,” and Jimmy quieted him.

“And now she’s here with us tonight. Kitty Randolph. Thank you

for joining us.”

The camera shifted to Kitty, sitting very ladylike in a studio chair and wearing a white Valentino dress that managed to make her

look virginal and worldly at the same time.

“Thank you, Barbara.” If the viewers had never met Kitty, they

would have been prepared to believe anything she said. “Thank

you for having me here tonight.”

“You’ve had a tough year.”

Kitty nodded in mournful silence. A tear—one very discreet,

very believable tear, if you had never met her—appeared in the

corner of one eye.

“It has been
. . .
difficult. But you go on. You have to go on.” She dabbed at the insincere tear.

“Your husband left you, and your ex-husband and frequent

costar in the 1960s, Quinn Scott—”

“Yes, Quinn . . .” said Kitty, a wistful smile on her face.

318

R o b B y r n e s

“He wrote an autobiography and revealed he was gay. Did that

hurt?”

Kitty dabbed again. “It did hurt me, Barbara, but mostly I hurt

because, well . . .” Dab. “Because I never realized how difficult his life had been.”

“
What?!
” snapped Quinn, and Jimmy hushed him.

“He was hard on you in his autobiography.”

Kitty bobbed her head, her expression somber. “Yes. Maybe de-

servedly so. You see, when we divorced all those years ago, I didn’t really understand. Now, of course I knew gay people—they are

some of my best friends in show business—but I couldn’t under-

stand how Quinn could say he loved me, but also be gay.” Dab.

“Those were different times. We all had a lot to learn.”

“So you just didn’t understand . . .”

“I didn’t,” Kitty agreed. “But I learned, and I came to under-

stand, and I’m a better person for that. And now Quinn and I are

closer than ev—”

“
What?!”

“Shhh,” said Jimmy. “She’s just saying what she has to say.”

“Since when did you become so forgiving?”

“Shhh.”

“In fact,” Kitty continued, “When Jason announced he was gay—”

“Jason St. Clair,” said Barbara Walters, filling in the blanks. “The star of
The Brothers-in-Law
. Which your company produces.”

“Yes, Jason St. Clair. When Jason came out, Quinn was right there

to help him. And I am so proud of both of them for what they’ve

gone through. Individually, and together. I’m grateful that I could
. . .

well, I’m grateful that I could serve as a bridge between two generations of great gay actors.”

“She’s making it sound as if she brought us together,” Quinn

snarled, and once again Jimmy shushed him.

“And Barbara,” said Kitty, now positively glowing, “this is a bit

awkward for me, because I’m a private person and I just
hate
to toot my own horn. But thanks to the inspiration I’ve received from people like Quinn Scott and Jason St. Clair, and the things I’ve been able to do to help gain greater visibility and acceptance for the gay and lesbian community in the motion picture and television industries, I’m being given a lifetime achievement award next week from W H E N T H E S T A R S C O M E O U T

319

the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation.”

“GLAAD,” noted Barbara Walters. “The group that promotes

positive depictions of gays and lesbians in the media.”

“
Do you believe this
?!” growled Quinn, and this time none of them could pick their jaws up off the floor to silence him.

Kitty Randolph turned to the camera and, with the warmest smile,

added, “The award isn’t for me, though, Barbara. It’s for all those hardworking gay men and lesbians in the arts; Quinn Scott, and

Jason St. Clair, and my good friend, the lesbian novelist Margaret Campbell. It’s for all of them.”

Somewhere in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, Margaret Campbell

sat alone in her very comfortable living room, eating sorbet from

the container and watching Kitty Randolph label her a lesbian on

national television.

“Bitch,” she drawled, taking another scoop from the container.

“This is not over.”

At the same time, in Manhattan, David Carlyle powered off his

cell phone and began the process of disconnecting all seven land-

lines in his Fifth Avenue co-op.

“Your marriage fell apart this year,” said Barbara Walters, and

Kitty nodded. “That was the marriage to Dean Henry, the Hollywood

agent. Tell me what that was like.”

Kitty paused a long time before answering. Then, after seeming

to compose herself, she seemed to bravely press on. “It was trau-

matic. I was devastated. I was deeply in love with Dean, but I’m afraid the age difference was just too much for us to get past.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Barbara.” With a smile, she again stared into the cam-

era. “But
. . .
well, I hope this isn’t sharing too much, but it’s probably for the best that Dean and I went our separate ways. There

were some financial irregularities . . .”

“Really!”

320

R o b B y r n e s

“Oh, no! Oh, I don’t want to make it sound as if Dean
stole
from me! No, that would be up to the Grand Jury. I just meant that I

think Dean would be happier in a less intense financial atmos-

phere. My financial holdings are complex, and I think he was in

over his head, which is probably why my auditors can’t seem to find thirty million dollars.” She laughed. “Silly Dean
. . .
he probably accidentally shredded the paperwork. We’ll figure it all out.”

In his newly rented West Hollywood apartment, Dean Henry

bolted upright in bed.

“You bitch!” he shouted. “You bitch! Oh, you wouldn’t dare try

to . . . ! Oh, fuck, she
would
!”

“Hmmphh,” said the slumbering brown body next to him.

“You have to admit it was pretty funny,” said Noah much later

that night, sliding his naked body a bit closer to Bart’s under the sheets.

“I just can’t understand how she gets away with it. It’s
. . .
it’s appalling. And no one ever calls her out.”

“Sure they do. How many husbands have left her? Is it three now,

including Dean? And don’t forget Quinn’s book. That’s at least a

few times she’s been called out in a very public way.”

“But she keeps going,” said Bart. “And four times over fifty

years
. . .
well, that means she wins a lot more than she loses.”

Noah shrugged. “She’s a survivor. Survivors survive. Every time a

husband leaves or something bad happens, like the book, she gets

right on damage control. She spins first, and she spins best, and

she keeps spinning until she has everything back in control. So it’s not that she doesn’t get called out; she just keeps control. Did you see what she said about Dean and the missing money? That was

amazing. She basically sat there on national television and accused her ex of stealing thirty million dollars. Even if he didn’t take it, she’s guaranteed his life will be a living hell for the next decade.”