Behind the Candelabra: My Life With Liberace by Scott Thorson, Alex Thorleifson

who had no legal hold over me, finally gave in. I would go with their love if not their blessings.
    The next day I returned to Vegas, Lee’s ring on my finger and his three hundred dollars nestled like a talisman in my wallet. The argument with my foster family had solidified my resolve, my feeling that I’d made the right decision. Lee and Carlucci met me at the airport and I took it as my due, not realizing that Lee never met arriving guests. To my surprise, Carlucci seemed even happier to see me than Lee.
    When we arrived at the house Jerry was there, looking upset. I’d been hoping he’d be gone before I arrived. The incredibly awkward situation I’d gotten myself into finally hit me. I’d be sharing the house with Lee’s former companion, a man who saw me as his replacement and had every reason to hate me. The optimism that had shielded me from my foster parents’ concern disappeared instantly. Jerry was a handsome, dark-haired man about ten years my senior with a mature, powerfully muscled body. The expression on his face told me he resented my presence. In the coming weeks I would find out how much.
    Lee and I hadn’t talked about where I’d live in the mansion but Carlucci, obviously acting under his master’s orders, carried my bags down the hall that led to Lee’s bedroom. I hadn’t bargained for that. Although I expected to share Lee’s bed when he wanted me, I thought I’d at least have the privacy of sleeping in my own room.
    Lee had his arm around my shoulders as we walked through the double doors. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he said. “Just seeing you makes me feel better.” A sweeping gesture of his hand encompassed the room. “From now on, I want you to feel this is your home.”
    Home. My home, I thought, testing the words in my mind. Except for those months at the Brummets’, I’d never felt I had a home. I suspected there’d be a price to pay for this one, but I was smart enough to realize that everything worth having had its price.
    The next weeks revealed how large the price would be. Liberace kept a very strange household. Carlucci seemed to be in charge of every phase of his master’s private life. He monitored Lee’s spending, his intake of food and drink. He laid out his clothes in the morning, ran his bath, and even tucked him into bed at night, oblivious of my being in the bed too. Although Lee took Carlucci’s ministrations for granted, it startled the hell out of me that first night when Carlucci walked into the bedroom. Acting as if I wasn’t there, he fussed with the bedcovers, making sure Lee was comfortable and had everything he needed.
    “Does he do that every night?” I asked after Carlucci left the room.
    “Sure,” Lee replied, as if Carlucci’s actions were perfectly ordinary. With Carlucci in the house, Lee and I had no privacy. We only escaped his mothering when we left the house to go shopping or go to the Hilton where Lee was appearing nightly. Shortly after my arrival Jerry’s valet moved into the spare bedroom with him. Having the two of them in the house kept me on edge. Passing me in the hall, they’d glower and shoulder me aside, seeming to take what I felt to be delight in intimidating me. Before long I found myself believing every word Lee said about Jerry. During the weeks that we lived under the same roof, Jerry acted like a monster as far as I was concerned. Much later, I realized that unhappiness motivated his actions. Lee had hurt Jerry the way he would one day hurt me.
    Four years earlier Lee had discovered Jerry in New York. Jerry was playing in a piano bar at night and, according to Lee, driving a diaper-service truck during the day to support his wife and children. Lee was instantly smitten with Jerry’s dark, sultry good looks and his talent. The fact that Jerry was married and a father did not deter Lee or even give him pause. He wanted Jerry to be in his act, and once Lee decided he wanted anything, his pursuit was