The Last Victim Read Online Free PDF Page B

grandeur.
    As I thought more about it, I decided the best way to attract Gacy’s attention, given the killer’s homosexuality, was to pretend
     to be sexually confused and highly impressionable. I would concoct some stories about my childhood that mirrored his own childhood—for
     example, I’d claim that I’d been sexually abused when I was younger and that my father had bullied me.
    One obvious problem was that I understood so little about the world Gacy inhabited. I was going to pretend to be gay, or at
     least leaning in that direction, and I didn’t know the first thing about what that meant.
    I’ve always been curious about things that are beyond my own experience—especially if they’re the least bit forbidden. I remember
     one time Jenn and I passed a cemetery—a very unusual-looking one—and on a whim, I pretended to be shopping for a plot so as
     to get a tour of the place. I’ve followed this same pattern again and again, whenever I’ve seen something that appeals to
     me, or scares me.
    The whole world of homosexuality was, to me, foreign, but also, as a culture, fascinating. I’d had gay acquaintances in the
     past and I admired the courage it took to deal with the stuff they had to face on a daily basis. Like most other kids my age,
     I feared such a lifestyle, felt threatened by it—did one choose it, or did it choose you? And up to that point, I’d never
     had the courage to ask any direct questions. Nevertheless, I knew that if I was serious about “getting over” on the likes
     of John Gacy and Jeffrey Dahmer, I would have to know a lot more about the worlds they inhabited.
    One idea I had was to talk to a male prostitute so I could at least learn the appropriate jargon and customs. As it happened,
     I’d already road-tested this strategy on a female prostitute sometime before. It was a typical “Jason experience.” I happened
     to be walking down the Strip with some friends when she approached us. Most suburban teenage boys would, of course, have muttered
     a sheepish “No thanks” and skittered away. But with an audience of my peers to perform for, I did exactly the opposite. I
     pretended to be an interested customer long enough to get her life story, and she even ended up buying us dinner.
    I decided to start my research by asking the bartender in a local gay bar for some direction. I was prepared to feel uncomfortable,
     and, in fact, the whole scene was a bit disorienting. As I stood at the bar talking to the bartender, I noticed some of the
     patrons checking me out. I suppose it was flattering, but all I could feel was relief that I felt no inclination to respond
     to their interest.
    The bartender advised me to check out the personal ads in a particular newspaper. I looked through the possibilities available
     and settled on one of them: “For all night companionship, call Rico. Experienced pleasure.”
    I called Rico on the phone that very night, half persuaded that I’d pushed the envelope too far this time. I was afraid he
     might get the wrong idea, that he’d think I wanted more than to talk.
    “Hello,” he answered on the second ring.
    “Hi, is this Rico?” I said, not at all acting in my role as the nervous patron. “I saw your ad.”
    “So,” he replied in a seductive voice, “what can I do for you?”
    “I was wondering if we could meet somewhere, so we could talk.”
    “Good, because I don’t like to talk over the phone. Why don’t we meet at the bowling alley at Sam’s Town Casino?”
    “That sounds fine. Let’s say, an hour.”
    I still had time to back out of this meeting. What if someone I knew saw me there? What if the guy turned out to be dangerous
     or something? It felt like if I backed down, I was giving in to my fear, and then I’d never be able to follow through on my
     larger plan.
    The bowling alley at the casino was extremely crowded. It was jam-packed with bowling lanes, snack bars, gambling machines,
     and a video arcade. There was a