Fashion Victim

It's so humid here. It's ridiculous.

Get under here, please.

# I've never seen myself in this way #

Thank you. Okay, my hair okay?

It's falling.

# Jealousy can burn #

I'm ready. I'm waiting on you guys.

Did you get my lighting situated?

I saw the playback of that last one, and it was all fucked up.

All right, let's go.

Ready? Oh, lighter.

# Jealousy has burned my... #

Gianni Versace is gone.

The question now is,

will the Versace name and the fashion line survive?

In the meantime, the nationwide search continues

for Versace's killer, said to be Andrew Cunanan,

a young man already being sought for a murder spree

that apparently is not over yet.

Mr. Bergman, are you home?

Hello?

Mr. Bergman?!

Are you home from your trip?

It's Hector here.

I'm sorry.

Are you home?

Is that you?

Did you hear Versace's here?

- Where? - Over there.

I'm sorry, this is a private party.

- I'm with them, with Versace. - Yeah.

- His posse, you know? - Okay.

Let me check.

Stay right there.

You're a determined young man.

You like fashion?

I like you.

Ah.

Listen to this mamone.

Go play with boys your own age.

Ah.

Sit down.

I think this child has a crush on me.

We all have crush on Versace, darling.

This place sucks.

I'm leaving.

Oh, Andy, can't you stay a little longer?

The family's away all weekend,

and I really went out on a limb for this.

I'm bored!

You coop me up here all weekend.

I want to hang out with kids my own age.

And I need money. You've been holding out on me.

If I give you money now, you'll just take off.

Now, every time, you promise me

that we're going to have some time together.

Come on.

That's nice.

Come on.

I just want to go out for a little bit, okay?

I'll come back, and I'll be very, very nice.

I promise.

Can I have one more?

Thank you.

How do you spike your hair?

What do you use?

Just gel. Glue.

H-hi. Remember me?

Yeah.

Excuse me.

How could I forget my favorite high-tech executive closet queen?

Did you get that little item that I sent you?

Yes, I got your gift, Mr. Edward M. Swift,

C.E.O. of Swiftwater Entertainment,

the highest broadbanding network in all the world.

Oops!

I'm not supposed to say that, am I?

I suppose you want to exact some penance?

Punish my ass?

Can we just get the hell out of here?

I know, I know.

The wife and kids, the board of directors.

You know, Eddie, a man can suffocate in the closet.

A man can die in there.

You should really open that closet door, Eddie.

If someone spots you in here, that means they're here, too.

- You see how that works? - Andy...

...don't insult my intelligence.

I'm on a short leash today.

Aren't they always?!

Okay, I'm all yours.

Take your little island native boy, and let's go home.

Excuse me?

Don't you ever embarrass me like that again.

Uh, but...

I'm worth much more than that tacky little gift you gave me.

Do you think I'm some street whore? Some fucking Filipino slut?

No, no, no.

Let me tell you something.

I could kill you right now, and nobody would rat me out.

Your wife would be fucking the gardener by nightfall.

Please, I-I didn't mean...

When you play with me, you play for keeps.

You get it?

I'm pretty, but I'm deadly.

Pretty...

...deadly.

Sure.

And you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?

Sure wouldn't.

Okay.

Now I'll prove I'm worth that little trinket you gave me.

I-I-I'm sure you had it appraised already?

Actually, I had it pawned.

And if that's too predatory for you, maybe I'll just go home.

In fact, I'm very close with Gianni Versace.

I'm in his entourage.

I could be on the runway right now in New York or Paris, Milan.

You're no boy toy anymore. Look at yourself.

The years are showing.

Versace?

At least I live in the real world.

I may not be God's gift,

but you better be if you're gonna shake me down.

I'm sorry, Andy. I didn't mean it the way it sounded.

You're not old. For God's sakes, you're 27.

It happens to everybody.

You know, I-I-I can model for Versace.

Bullshit!

I'm the one worth money, while you live on handouts.

I just lost my appetite. I can do better than you.

Fuck you, then! Do better, you old faggot!

It's just a matter of time, Andy! Your best years are behind you!

Small world, huh?

Yep.

You know...

...you're a model...

...and I'm a model.

We both have an affinity for sleazy little holes in the wall.

Uh-huh.

Sooner or later that had to happen.

There's your clothes. There's the door, all right?

What's the problem?

Right now, you.

What did I do?

Nothing... But talk and talk.

You seemed to be enjoying it last night.

Well, you're a good hustler, kid, I'll give you that.

And I thought you were a pro.

I expected...

Well, I expected more. All right. My mistake.

Don't say that.

I'm not gonna leave here until...

Until what? What do you want, money?

Look, there's $100 in that jar over there. Take it.

Just don't go rummaging through any of my stuff.

$100?

Yeah, and feel lucky. It's charity.

Charity.

You look pretty good.

But a guy your age shouldn't really have to do two lines of blow

just to get it up for an hour, and then pass out.

Fuck you!

Well, you already tried that.

Maybe you'll have better luck being a model.

See that guy?

That's a model.

Does he look like a guy who's drinking gallons of vodka every night,

whoring himself out to fat-ass business execs for rent money?

No.

You see, that's what people like you do.

So knock off this... model act.

People can smell desperation.

Help me, then.

W-w-with what?

Help me. I can do that.

You said I could meet your agent.

My agent?

You've already wasted enough of my time.

I'm not gonna have you waste his, too.

Get out.

You're a pig.

Why don't you go pork some fat stockbroker?

You see that?

That's as close to any photo shoot you'll ever get.

And you're a fucking queer, you know that?

You see this? You see this?! Huh?

This is my life, and you're never gonna get there,

because it's too late!

So you just keep whoring yourself out to old guys, huh?

And the years will just keep going by.

My friends told me about you.

You're bullshit.

I gave you a chance. You just fucked up.

You know, you might be all right...

if you just stopped living a lie.

Hello?

Hey, Andy.

Hey.

What's wrong?