answered. “It’s all about this detective guy who goes under cover as a male model.”
“That’s gotta be him!” he declared, totally psyched.
Which explains why nine hours later, we’re on our way up the stairs leading to Big Boobs Janelle’s bedroom. In search of a copy of Playgirl magazine…“Entertainment for Women.”
The funny thing about Janelle and her boobs is…whenever we’re in Brad’s room and we hear her coming down the stairs, she’s always like, “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” With every step. Holding on to her breasts in pain. Brad says one of these days, she’s gonna give herself a couple of black eyes!
He picks up the magazine from the nightstand. Right where he said it would be. I catch a glimpse of the blue cover with yellow letters…“COVER UP” STAR JON-ERIK HEXUM: TV’S SEXIEST BODY BARES HIS MIND. I can’t even believe Brad’s sister left it lying out in the open like that. Their Mom is very religious. Somehow, I don’t think she’d approve of her 16-year-old daughter looking at Playgirl. Or her 14-year-old son and his Best Friend, for that matter!
“Here,” says Brad, handing it to me.
I take note of the tan suit jacket and blue open-collared shirt JEH is wearing on the cover. Which perfectly matches his bright blue eyes. “Let’s go back to your room,” I whisper. Not that anybody else is home to hear me. But there’s something about being up in Janelle’s bedroom that totally creeps me out.
Maybe it’s because it’s her Personal Private Space and we have no right to be nosing around in it. Or maybe it’s because her room is kinda like an attic, with the kinda ceiling that’s slanted on both sides because of the roof. Or maybe it’s because on the slanted ceiling itself, Janelle’s hung up a bunch of posters of half-naked Chippendales dancers.
Maybe it’s just me. But I feel kinda weird looking at them. Not weird-weird, but…like I’ve already said, I don’t judge other guys. But some of them are so good-looking, it totally makes me wanna puke! They’ve all got these totally muscular, totally perfect bodies. I swear they must work out at least five hours per day.
I have no idea why we’re doing this. But here we are again, back in Brad’s room…
“Open it,” he says, encouraging me. “Go on…”
We’re sitting side by side on his bed with the November 1984 issue of Playgirl resting between our laps, listening to Cyndi Lauper singing her latest on 96.3 WHYT. I begin turning the pages, passing by columns titled Intimacy File—Whose Fantasy is it Anyway?, Health—Organic Groceries: Super Health or Super Hype?, and Arts and Entertainment—Michael Jackson: Sweet and Sexy, He’s Pop’s Greatest Thriller. The only thing I don’t see are any naked guys.
“Keep going,” Brad tells me when I question this.
I turn another page, only to find a Sex Quiz. Followed by an article on “Sexual Variety.” Followed by a full-page ad for English Leather Musk cologne, in which a good-looking, cheesy-mustached guy with a totally hairy chest to match, wears nothing but a Santa Claus hat and a smile.
“‘He Knows If You’ve Been Good,’” I read. “‘So Be Good for Goodness Sake.’” Oh, brother!
“Oh, my God…Look at him!” Brad gasps.
Of course, I can’t help but notice the guy’s got a totally big dick.
“Do you think we’ll look like that when we grow up?” he asks me. “He’s pretty cute, right?”
To which I reply, “I don’t judge other guys,” ’cause I don’t. Though I admit, “I wouldn’t mind looking like him.”
“Well,” Brad begins, “if you were a girl, would you think he’s cute?”
Which is a fair question to ask, I suppose. “If I was a girl?” I say. “I guess I might…Would you?”
“Probably,” he answers. “I mean, if I was a girl.” Then he flips the page and totally starts freaking out. “Oh, my God…That guy’s got a hard-on!”
“Gross!” I say, turning my entire head away from the page. “I can’t even believe they can show that kinda stuff.”
“I know…It’s totally disgusting,” Brad agrees. But when I reach out to turn the page, he places his hand on the magazine to stop me. Then he practically shouts in my ear, “Wait…Lemme see that again!”
So I turn the page back…And we stare at it…For just a few minutes more.
Page after page, we continue flipping through. Naked guy after naked guy after naked guy. Finally, we come to Playgirl’s Man for November. A blond-haired, blue-eyed Hunk with a small patch of hair sprouting in the center of his chest sports a blue unbuttoned denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His name’s Jeffrey Erickson. But neither of us has ever seen or heard of him before.
“What would you think of him,” Brad asks, “if you were a girl, I mean?”
“If I was a girl?” I say. “I’d think he was okay, I guess.”
“Just okay?” he asks, suddenly skeptical of my taste in men.
“I think I’d think the other one is cuter,” I confess. By whom I mean the guy on the page before last. The one with the dark hair, dark eyes, and smooth chest.
“You would?” says Brad, making a face. “I’d think my guy is much cuter than yours.”
After another ten minutes or so I have to ask, “So what about JEH?” I mean, he’s the reason we’re even looking at this trash in the first place! “Isn’t he in here somewhere?”
“Duh!” Brad says. Like I’m a Total Idiot. “He wouldn’t be on the cover if he wasn’t, would he?” He takes hold of the magazine, flips to page 30, and exclaims, “Tah dah!” Like he’s David Copperfield making the Statue of Liberty vanish on TV. Then he presents the magazine to me again. This time with a flourish.
I’m totally unimpressed.
Sure, there’s a picture of Jon-Erik Hexum all oiled up, one bulging bicep behind his head, shirt off. On the opposite page he wears a black tuxedo, cigarette in hand—don’t even tell me he smokes! But in no way is he naked.
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?” replies Brad. Again, like I’m a Total Idiot.
I skim through the four-page article all about how JEH is the “male answer to Christie Brinkley” and how he turned down roles on The Dukes of Hazzard and CHiPs before ever doing Voyagers! Both of which I had no idea about. Another interesting fact I learn is…He went to Michigan State University. Which is where I’ve been thinking about applying to college after I graduate from Hillbilly High. Which isn’t till June 1988, and seems like a bijillion years from now!
There are also pictures of JEH from Cover Up, wearing army fatigues and holding a machine gun. And another with Joan Collins in Making of a Male Model. But again, in no way is he naked in any of them!
“I thought the whole point of Playgirl is naked guys,” I reiterate.
“All the other guys are naked,” Brad affirms.
“Yeah…But who cares about them? They’re Total Nobodies.”
To which Brad informs me, “My sister Janelle says they never show full frontal of the celebrities…It’s bad for their careers.”
To which I reply, “That is sooo lame…They could at least show his butt!” Then I toss the magazine aside. “What a Total Rip-off!”
After all of about five seconds, Brad gets up from the bed. “Be right back.”
“Where are you going?” I inquire.
“To the bathroom.” He starts out of the room. Then he crosses back to where Playgirl