The Good Life (17 page)

They entered a small bar, also paneled, with shining brass light fixtures and deep leather-upholstered armchairs grouped around small tables. Billy and the barman greeted each other by name. He chose a table in front of a big window looking out toward New Jersey, and they sat. The sky was darkening. Perry supposed the sun was setting, but he couldn't see it anywhere.

A waiter put a bowl of nuts and big black olives and a platter of little sandwiches in front of them. Billy ordered for them, one of the gin drinks he liked for himself and a large whiskey and water for Perry. Perry's heart was beginning to race. It was a quarter to 6. He heard rumblings and bumps below. He was about to leave the United States.

“Do they always leave on time?” he asked.

“More or less, as a rule. It has something to do with the tide.”

Perry nervously ate his sandwich. “My God, that's good,” he exclaimed. “What is it?”

Billy picked up a sandwich and peered at it. “This is going to be my undoing. The minute I get on a boat I can do nothing but eat and sleep. I save a minute for an occasional drink.” He put the sandwich in his mouth. “Foie gras. Fatal.”

The drinks arrived, and Perry took a gulp of his. There were more rumblings below. He took another gulp. “I can't stand it, Billy. I've got to see it all happening. Do you mind? Will we pass the Statue of Liberty?”

“Not right away. Having you with me is turning into such an adventure. I adore you, dear Perry. Run along and look. The captain is probably waiting for you to help him.”

“I'll be back as soon as we begin to move.” Perry took another gulp of his drink and hurried out on deck. There were quite a lot of people lining the rail. There were more people lined up along the dock. Everybody was waving. Some were trying to call to each other. A band was playing “Give My Regards to Broadway.”

Perry's blood stirred. Chills kept running up and down his spine. He walked along behind the waving people, looking for a free space at the rail and keeping an eye out for pretty women. The few he saw were with men.

He encountered a very pretty blond kid. Their eyes met, and the boy blushed as he looked hastily away. Perry smiled to himself. What wicked thoughts were running through
his
head? He was tall and skinny, wearing a gray flannel suit. He looked like an East Coast prep-school boy. Snooty.

Perry found a place and leaned against the rail. A couple of tugs were snuggled up alongside them. Another was out in the river with a line up to the stern. He heard the whistles and the clanging of bells. The band had switched to “Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

Perry's chest was clogged with tense elation. He felt as if he were reliving his whole life inside him. All he could see were filling stations and trailer courts and himself having his cock sucked across the United States to save money for New York. It had been worth it. Everything had been worth it so far, including his three telegrams.

The tugs suddenly churned the water in a burst of what looked like superhuman energy. The band was playing “Keep the Home Fires Burning.” Perry had a lump in his throat.

It was five past 6. The waving and calling grew frantic. Very slowly the
Mauretania
slipped away from the dock. He was on his way again, out into the great world. The band was obviously on board. The music stayed with them. He realized that his eyes were filled with tears.

He blinked and watched the space between ship and dock widen. The line at the stern was thrown off, and the tug came bustling past, headed for the bow. They were running along past downtown Manhattan where Wall Street was. He stayed on deck and felt the shiver of the ship's engines coming to life. As they passed the tip of the island, the tugs dropped away.

There were three shattering blasts from the ship's whistle. They were at sea. Life had been irrevocably altered.

He climbed the stairs to the upper deck and headed along the corridor toward the bar. He encountered the pretty blond again, going in the other direction. He was a real blond, golden, more than pretty, quite beautiful in his androgynous youth. He walked with languid elegance. He didn't look at Perry as he passed, but he was clearly making an effort not to.

Perry dropped into the chair beside Billy. “Wow. I'm a wreck.” He gripped Billy's knee. “We're going to Europe, Billy.”

Billy beamed. “I wish you could see yourself. You make it such a pleasure to be able to give you this.”

“I'm glad it's a pleasure for you. It was the most thrilling moment of my life, watching us leave. Can we see the Statue of Liberty from here?”

Billy shifted about, peering out the window. It was going to be dark soon. “It always turns up in the most unexpected places. I'm quite turned around. No, we're in the stern. You'll have to go out again. On that side. Port, I believe. We must learn to be nautical. That's port and that's starboard. Further that that, you're on your own. You have a few minutes still.”

Perry swallowed his drink. “If you're having another, will you order me one?”

Perry left him again. He met the blond kid coming out of the library. Yes, a beauty. Slightly effeminate but not offensively so. Perry took a good look at him, but the kid ignored him.

He found his way out to the deck and gazed into the gathering dusk. He wasn't sure where to look. He suddenly saw the familiar gray shape of it. It was much smaller than he expected, standing out alone in the water. He had seen the Statue of Liberty from a boat.

The lights of the tall, banked-up buildings of Manhattan were beginning to show behind them. The engines throbbed beneath him, but he couldn't feel any motion. There were lights everywhere in front of them. They were evidently not yet in the open sea.

He paused at the purser's office to look at the announcements. There was something about a lifeboat drill as well as the hours for the cable office, library, and various shops on board. There would be dancing and a cabaret in the ballroom tomorrow. There was a list of movies being shown in the cinema. It was a floating town. He saw that several of the movies hadn't been shown in New York yet.
The Wizard of Oz. Wuthering Heights. Good-bye, Mr. Chips
. He wanted to see them all.

He returned to Billy and his drink. “I saw it,” he announced. “I've seen everything now. Does the ship stay so steady all the way over?”

“Oh, dear me, no, but we can hope for the best. Storms can be quite hair-raising, but not usually in June.”

“I wouldn't mind, just to know what it's like.”

“You want everything, don't you?”

“Yes, I guess I do. I've lived until now without anything.”

“That's one of the most exciting things about you — your appetite for experience.”

“It's there, all right.”

They chatted and drank and ordered another round. They felt a slight roll as they moved out away from land. “I expect I should brush up a bit before dinner,” Billy said. “Do you mind if it's an early one?”

“Fine with me. All the excitement has made me hungry.”

Billy signed for the drinks, and they went down to the cabins. Perry found everything unpacked and the suitcases put away under the bed. It seemed odd to have his things handled by an unknown, but Laszlo had told him to expect it in Europe. He saw the black velvet jewelry boxes on top of the chest of drawers. Nobody would have been able to get very far with them.

He was still keyed up from the departure. He stripped, showered, and put on a suit for dinner, then went up to the bar. He'd never felt so good in his life. If he could be headed for Europe, he could do anything, have everything he wanted. He was Superman.

“I'm sorry if I kept you waiting,” Billy said, bustling in and seating himself. They seemed to have the bar to themselves. “Sailing is always exciting, but with you — well, you're positively glowing. Your delight with everything is contagious.”

“It gets more exciting as we go along.”

“Indeed it does.” The waiter brought them drinks. “We can go along to dinner as soon as we finish this, if you like.”

Perry lurched slightly when they rose and held the chair for a moment to steady himself. It surely wasn't the drink. The ship's roll had grown more pronounced.

They went forward past the purser's office to a big, somberly handsome dining room with a lot of heavy silver and dark velvet upholstery and massive sideboards. Even the chandeliers looked severe. Billy stopped to speak to a stout, vigorous-looking woman with a face like a pug dog.

“On your way home, Billy?” she said in greeting. She cocked her head at her companion, a good-looking woman with a streak of white in her hair. “You know Dickie. You haven't let war scare you off?” She spoke in a brusque, downright way.

“I have my return ticket and my fingers crossed.”

He introduced Perry. The pug dog was Elsa Maxwell. Perry had read about her. He didn't know why or how, but she was the boss of cafe society.

“I was talking to F.D.R. the other day,” Elsa Maxwell said. “This is strictly off the record, of course, but I think he's going to get us into war before long. We can't let Hitler take over Europe. Shall we have a game on the way over?”

“You always put me on my mettle, Elsa. I'm told Mr. Langham here is a good player.”

“Good. We have a foursome. I don't know any of these people.”

“See you later. Delighted you're on board.”

Following the waiter, Perry saw that they were approaching the golden-headed boy. They stopped just beyond him, and Perry was seated facing him. The tables were spaced quite far apart, but the beautiful boy was only one table away. Their eyes met, and again the kid blushed and hastily looked away. Perry couldn't imagine what in the world he was doing to have this effect, but it was obvious that their paths were fated to cross. He noticed that a lot of the tables were unoccupied.

“I thought this sailing was full,” he said. “Where is everybody?”

“People often eat in their cabins on the first night. I like to get out and see what's going on.”

“I don't think much tonight. I haven't seen Joan Crawford. There's a very pretty blond boy right behind you.” Perry tilted his head slightly at the golden head facing him.

“If you mean the one right there over my shoulder, I've noticed him. A beautiful youth but a bit young, wouldn't you say?”

Perry laughed teasingly. “Young for what, Billy?”

Billy teased in return. “For shipboard romance. That's essential for a first crossing.”

“Don't rush me. Think what wonders might be lurking in their cabins. I might get Joan Crawford.”

“If she gives herself the pleasure of looking at you, you might.”

Waiters hovered around them. They were handed huge cards with a bewildering variety of food listed on them — fish and game and meat. Perry saw caviar among the starting courses. He'd never had it. “My God, are you supposed to eat all that?” he exclaimed.

“Have it all. Give the management a nasty shock.”

“I'd like caviar.”

“Good. Order a double portion. We'll ruin them.”

They ordered their meal and bottles of both red and white wine. “During Prohibition everybody used to rush onto the boat in New York and get drunk within the first hour,” Billy said. “It was most convivial.”

Perry wasn't disappointed with the caviar. It was worth waiting for.

He checked the blond from time to time. The boy kept his eyes resolutely turned from him, but he probably felt Perry's. The enchanting blushes kept suffusing his cheeks. He was with a mature woman whose back was turned to Perry, but he could see that she was rather plainly dressed. He thought she looked like a real lady.

He was revising his earlier classification of people as rich and not rich. He was beginning to see the difference between the cultivated rich and the vulgar rich. Steve Wiman was a lady. Arlene wasn't — or he wouldn't have made a pass at her.

He imagined that the woman with her back turned was the blond's mother. He had a delicate aristocratic profile. In Europe he would be a young nobleman like Laszlo. The boy had the manners for it. Perry noticed the fastidious way he ate.

He and Billy were just finishing their main course when Perry saw their neighbors preparing to leave. The boy couldn't resist giving him a look as he rose, but his eyes slid past Perry's. He turned away with the lady's hand tucked under his arm. Perry found the unmistakable signs of class superiority attractive but also somewhat grating.

Billy suggested coffee in their bar, and they sat for a while having it with brandy. One other table was occupied. Billy finished his brandy and put the glass down decisively. “That's it. The sea is lulling me to bed. It's been an exciting afternoon. I feel as if we're really together, dearest boy, for better or for worse. Come see me in the morning when you're ready.”

Perry rose with him, and they went down to the lower deck together. They stopped at their corridor.

“I'll wander for half an hour,” Perry said. “I suppose I'm sleepy, but too many good things are happening to me for me to notice. Good night, lord and master.”

Perry hesitated as Billy went on to his door. Perry wanted to see what a night at sea looked like.

He pulled the door open and stepped out on deck and was caught by a moderate breeze. There was a solitary figure leaning against the rail farther along. He couldn't see him clearly in the dim light on deck, but he knew who it was. Perry lurched slightly from side to side as he adjusted to the roll of the ship and made his way toward him. He saw the golden hair being ruffled by the breeze. He fell against the rail beside him and gripped it to recover his balance.

“Hello,” he said.

The boy was holding the rail too. He turned a bit without letting go of it. “Good evening,” he said guardedly.

“Yes, it's a beautiful night,” Perry said, looking up at the sky from under the deck's cover. “I've never seen so many stars.”