The Good Life (13 page)

“Fabulous. I've been dying to go there. And in my new dinner jacket. Wow.” He hugged Billy as Billy handed him a drink. “Oh. Who's Valentina?”

“A very well-known dress designer. She does a lot in the theater. Lynn Fontanne and people like that. Very elegant lady. Somebody you should know.”

They were launched on Billy's fresheners. He told Perry that he'd had a fairly full afternoon too. He'd been to see his mother, had arranged for the baroness to come for an hour after lunch tomorrow to start Perry's bridge lessons, and had opened a checking account for Perry at Chase.

“I just happened to be passing and thought I could save you the trouble. Just go in and sign the card.”

“The marvelous things you do for me, Billy. I have to keep reminding myself that it's really happening, that I'm awake and not making it all up.”

“I hope I will always make you feel as if you're having a beautiful dream. Freshener?”

Laszlo showed Perry how to attach the starched stand-up wing collar and how to put in the dark mother-of-pearl studs for the starched bosom. He taught him how to tie the black silk bow tie and regarded him with almost parental pride.

“Excellent,” Laszlo beamed. “Very good-looking. You do Brooks Brothers proud. Great style.”

Perry danced in his dinner jacket at El Morocco with Valentina, who was not only elegant and sophisticated but also incredibly beautiful, and he felt he'd been doing it all his life. He felt that he had achieved everything he'd come to New York for. Billy danced too, very snappily. He was fun to be with. Valentina was far too grand and worldly for Perry to consider making a play for her, so they had a friendly, relaxed evening.

They left in good order at almost 3 o'clock. A little light exercise on the dance floor seemed to be good for Billy's speech problem.

After they had accompanied Valentina to the elevator of her Park Avenue apartment, Billy sat back in the waiting taxi and put his hand on Perry's knee. “Now you're a full-fledged member of cafe society, dearest boy,” he said.

When they got home they went up to Billy's room for the inevitable nightcap. Billy poured them. “I'm feeling restless tonight. I'd better take a pill. Excuse me.”

Billy went into the bathroom. The craving had started again. He'd been quite heavily on opium for several years, like many of his friends in France, and it had been a struggle to break the habit. Feeling the craving now, he wondered why he'd bothered. If Perry went back to France with him after he'd finished with business in the fall, perhaps Billy would pick it up again. It would be a pleasure to share a few pipes with such an ideal companion. He had little doubt that Perry would be with him. He saw new signs every day that they suited each other.

Billy took two pills, which would put him to sleep within twenty minutes, and returned to the bedroom. Perry was lolling elegantly in the comfortable chair.

“We must find a minute tomorrow for you to show me the rest of your clothes,” Billy said. “If everything's as smart as your dinner jacket, I'm going to be proud to be seen with you.”

“I put it all on for Laszlo. He approved.”

“I hope you're not letting yourself get too involved with Laszlo.”

Perry blushed and was immediately on his guard. Had Billy overheard some of their silly jokes?

After tonight Perry knew he was on his way. Nothing was going to stop him. He looked at his long legs stretched out in well-cut trousers and resolved that his transformation into Perry Langham, familiar face at El Morocco and man-about-town, was going to be permanent. You couldn't be much of a man-about-town if you couldn't choose your own involvements. He was going to have to give Billy another scare if he got too possessive. “Involved in what way?” he asked coldly.

“I don't expect you to stay out of bed with each other. There're too many inviting opportunities for you to be able to avoid them all. Two attractive young men. What could be more natural?” He smiled and shrugged charmingly, but his voice was hard when he continued. “It's the little smoldering domestic dramas that I can't bear.”

“I assure you, there's no drama, not even smoldering. Actually, he's against bed in principle because he lives with someone.”

“That's what worries me.”

“I said, in principle. It's nobody's business but his own how flexible his principles are. We can agree that I don't have any principles, only gentlemanly instincts.” There was an edge to his playfulness.

“It amounts to the same thing. I have complete faith in your ability to handle any situation, decently and with consideration for others, but I gather you've had little experience with the explosive nature of homosexuals. They're frequently unstable. I simply wanted to give you a little warning in case Laszlo has neglected to tell you that he's not free.”

Perry heard again the conciliatory note in Billy's voice and smiled to himself. He could manage. “I understand, Billy. Thanks. There's nothing to worry about. As a matter of fact, Laszlo has decided to fall in love with me for three weeks just for the fun of it. That doesn't sound unstable to me.”

“You're quite extraordinary. I've just been thinking about your living with me in France after we've been back here. It's too soon to discuss it until we find out if you like it, but I hope that's the way it'll turn out.”

“I'm pretty sure I'll be with you, here or there. That much seems to be settled.”

“I hoped that's what you'd say.” Billy was already getting drowsy. He looked at the elegant young man in front of him and couldn't believe he was the same young man who'd pushed him around at the fair less than two weeks ago. Having created this superior being so quickly, he felt no inclination to stop there.

Perry was the most satisfying creation of his life. He must see to it that Perry's taste for boys continued to develop. He didn't want him to revert to heterosexuality and get carried off by a predatory female. He sensed that the balance was still delicate, but the streak of narcissism in Perry was strong enough to push him increasingly toward those who shared his infatuation with his own body. Men responded more to physical beauty than women.

Billy rose. “I should go to bed. Those pills are beginning to work. Are you ready?”

“I'll say.” Perry pulled himself to his feet. “Thanks for a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you for making it so, dearest boy. You must know I want you to enjoy yourself, with Laszlo or anybody else who strikes your fancy.”

“Enjoy
is a mild word for what I'm going through. Galloping euphoria. Get a good sleep.”

He leaned down, and they kissed lightly before parting. Perry wondered why Billy was almost pushing him into bed with boys.

Perry slept alone in an expensive pair of pajamas for the first time and hated them. He woke up all tangled up in them and immediately worked his way out of them. He sighed with relief at the luxury of feeling his body free and naked again. The rich weren't right about everything.

He dozed and rang for breakfast at noon. Laszlo arrived, and they greeted each other with knowing, affectionate smiles.

“Do you want me to seduce you this morning?” Perry asked cheerfully, keeping up the banter that was part of their growing relationship. To hell with what Billy thought.

“I hope you don't.”

“Okay. I'll wait for you to seduce me. That is, I might if you don't take too long.”

“You're supposed to have lunch at 1 so you'll be ready for your bridge lessons with the baroness. It'll just be omelets and salad and cheese. Do you prefer red wine or white?”

“Red, I think, unless I'm supposed to have white.”

“Don't pay too much attention to the rules. People are ridiculous about wine. Order what you like. It's true that a dry white tastes better with most fish, but there can be exceptions even to that.”

“I'm not even sure what dry means.”

“Not sweet. That's the only rule that counts.”

“Thank you, lover. Don't stop teaching me.”

“I won't. Do you know that Shaw play
Pygmalion?
I feel like Professor Higgins. You're beginning to seduce me again. I think I'd better be going.”

“Are you sure one quick seduction mightn't be a good idea?”

“I think it would be a terrible idea for my peace of mind.”

“You're a very passionate lover.”

The baroness was a mousy little woman who turned into a fiend with a pack of cards in her hands. Perry was terrified of her at first. She lashed him mercilessly with her tongue every time he made a play.

He immediately grasped the importance of keeping track of every card that was put on the table. He was intrigued by the secret signals you could give your partner when bidding. He thought that now that he was learning the rules, he might enjoy it. The baroness pronounced him promising, and he actually started looking forward to the sessions.

They went to dinner a few blocks away at Steve and Dwight Wiman's town house. Steve, a woman, was the wife.

“Dwight
Deere
Wiman is an heir of the agricultural-equipment people,” Billy had explained. “Very rich and successful Broadway producer to boot.”

At Billy's suggestion, Perry wore his white dinner jacket. The musical comedy star Clifton Webb was there with his mother. Perry had heard of him. He had sung “Easter Parade” in a big hit musical,
As Thousands Cheer
, a few years ago. Ethel Waters had sung “Heat Wave” in the same show. Hubie had records of them.

The actor was very elegant, also wearing a white dinner jacket with eye-catching emerald studs and cuff links. He moved with a dancer's grace. He had a slightly comic face not without attraction and a brittle manner that made everything he said sound witty through tricks of intonation and delivery. He made Perry laugh a lot, which obviously impressed him favorably. Perry politely called him Mr. Webb until he was urged to call him Clifton. They were all soon on a first-name basis.

Clifton and Dwight vied with each other in paying court to the young guest (their overtures were too mannerly to be called making a play for him). Dwight was a handsome man with an authoritative manner that seemed characteristic of the rich. Steve observed them all with a self-assured amusement.

“I'm giving a party next week,” Clifton said, addressing Perry. “You must come. I'll send you a card. Do I use Billy's address? I'll invite him too, of course.”

“Thanks. I'd love it.” Perry noticed that Billy was an afterthought. Their roles were beginning to reverse. He was going to be helpful socially to Billy.

Clifton began to move his mother out soon after dinner. “Come along, Mother. You know you don't like to be late. We're not keeping theater hours these days.”

He got her to her feet. She reminded Perry a bit of Mrs. Costigan, but she occasionally uttered shrieks of laughter that made her seem jollier. He knew her name was May belle, but he had had no occasion to call her anything so far.

“Where's my sable, Webb?” she demanded.

“Mother, it's almost June,” Clifton explained. “This is New York, not Alaska. It's been put in storage. Come say good night to Perry.”

She looked at Perry for a moment as if trying to place him and then beamed. “My, how you've grown,” she explained. “It's been delightful to see you again.”

Dwight was waiting to take charge of her. Clifton took Perry's hand in both of his and held it against his chest while he said good night. “I'm so pleased we met. I hope to see a lot of you. I'll count on you next week. The card says RSVP, but pay no attention. Just come.” He gave Perry's hand a final squeeze and turned to say good night to the others. He and Dwight threw their arms around each other as he left the room and whispered together like kids.

Steve looked at Perry and touched the chair beside her. Perry sat in it. “I'm so glad you came,” she said. “We must keep in touch. I spend a lot of time in the country. We have a place in Connecticut that I love. You must come for a weekend. We have two older daughters who would love to meet you. Handsome young men don't fall out of trees.”

Perry was flattered. He was being accepted as a familiar. They chatted agreeably, and Perry told her about Europe. She seemed to know his plans and warned him against being caught by a war.

He and Billy left in an aura of friendly warmth. They made a detour on the way home to stop at the Ruban Bleu, a small cabaret like the Blue Angel. Billy wanted a drink.

Their last three weeks in the city began with a rush that didn't let up until it was time to pack. Perry could hardly keep track of all the places they went.

They had lunch in the garden of the Museum of Modern Art. (“I think it's turned out very well,” Billy commented about the museum. “Mother, among many others, contributed substantially to it. I'm a member. I must make you one too.”)

They had dinner at the Barbary Room, the Colony, 123, the Vendome, and Sardi's, the theatrical restaurant, where Billy pointed out stage stars. Somewhere along the way they heard two new singers, Lena Home and Pearl Bailey, both of whom Perry loved. They went to the Rainbow Room, Cafe Society Uptown and Café Society Downtown, the Village Vanguard, and the Village Gate and spent an evening in Harlem with a group that included Libby Holman. Hubie had a record of her growling voice singing “Moanin' Low,” which Perry had learned by heart. Billy told him that she had been tried for the murder of her husband, the Reynolds tobacco heir, and acquitted, thanks largely to the testimony of Clifton Webb. She and her infant son had inherited a great deal of money.

They went to the Cotton Club, where Cab Calloway had a band, and afterward to a small place where Duke Ellington sat in at the piano with the jazz group and Libby sang. They all smoked marijuana, and after that the evening grew very confused. Somehow, somewhere, Perry ended up naked with Libby sucking his cock.