The Bone lives in a tiny studio that has white everything: white curtains, white sheets, white comforter, white chaise. When you're in the bathroom, you look to see if he uses special cosmetics. He doesn't.
The Bone grew up in Des Moines, Iowa. His father was a teacher. His mother was the school nurse. In high school, the Bone didn't hang out with the cool kids. He used to make straight A's and tutor younger children after school. They all looked up to him.
The Bone never thought about becoming a model, but when he was in eighth grade, he was voted best-looking guy. He secretly wanted to do something exciting. Like being a detective. But he went to the University of Iowa and studied literature for two years. It was what his father wanted. One of his teachers was young and good-looking, and when he called the Bone in for a meeting, he sat next to him and put his hand on the Bone's leg. He slid his hand up to the bulge in the Bone's pants. "This could be an easy A for you," he said. The Bone never went back to his class. Three months later, he dropped out of college.
Recently, someone's been calling the Bone's apartment and
leaving messages that are only music. At first, he listened to
the songs, because he kept thinking the music was going to stop and one of his friends would start talking. Now, he listens to the songs to see if there's a clue. "I think it's a man," he says.