The Man Who Would Be King

I see what Hammer's ''black success'' has come to mean when I accompany him to a photo shoot in an L.A. studio. At 3 p.m. a huge gang of kids, let out from a junior high down the block, gathers like bees around the stretch limos and Hammer's personal burgundy Mercedes AMG convertible, which he's had driven down from the Bay Area. The younger ones want to know if he looks anything like Hammerman, the cartoon, and the older ones refuse to leave until fully persuaded that neither the side doors nor bribes of their after-school Twinkies money will get them in to see Hammer. One impossibly thin kid named Aaron, with beautiful gray eyes and wearing cutoff sweatpants, a lightweight quilted jacket, and L.A. Gear hightops with no socks, lingers, reciting to House some rhymes he has written. The kid also has a beautiful singing voice and serenades House and me with his favorite song from R&B star Freddie Jackson.

Inside, Hammer is resisting the photo shoot, spending endless hours in the dressing room getting endlessly misted with TCB Oil Sheen and Conditioner Spray and scorning the Versace suits a wardrobe woman has brought for him. ''I bought the whole Versace line when I was in Italy,'' he says, without sounding ridiculous. Someone from the posse yells out that Michael Jackson went to Italy and also bought the line after Hammer did.

''To tell you the truth," Hammer says, not entirely convincingly, "I want Michael to succeed with his new album more than anyone. I need the motivation of competition.'' He begins singing the ballad Jackson had slotted as the first single from his album, stopping after the first verse and saying, ''Man, that's strong. What I don't understand is why he's releasing a ballad first. He's got to come out dancing. Movement is everything. That's why I hate getting photographed. I can't stand putting on my performing clothes and going out and standing still.'' (Jackson has since decided to release an up-tempo song, ''Black or White,'' instead.)

With great distaste, Hammer goes out for the shoot, which he gets through in the best possible way — dancing. After a half hour, I realize I can't watch him move anymore, and that my week of Hammer Time has caught up with me. Running a fever, shaking in my legs, I step out for a breath of air...

...and find Aaron in the twilight, still waiting. Seahorse is lecturing him on the necessity of perseverance, citing Hammer's doggedness, chapter and verse. It's a sweet tableau: Aaron, who knows Hammer's rags-to-riches story as well as Seahorse does, nodding his head and saying, ''I know. You can't quit,'' then as an afterthought: ''too legit to quit. I'm going to make it.'' He seems so insubstantial, though, that I find myself wondering if he's even going to make it home tonight.

I probably needn't worry. ''I'm going to be even bigger than Hammer,'' he says with an audacious smile, '''cause I can sing, too.''