One for the Gods (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (23 page)

Guy was leading them into the town. They crossed a square so enclosed that it felt like a room. It was crowded with chairs and tables, occupied for the most part by young men wearing bizarre and colorful clothing—shirts of net, golden sandals, curiously slashed and laced trousers. Here and there were undigested lumps of Germanic-looking tourists in sensible shoes and hats and summer suits. Heads turned as they passed, conversations in a dozen languages were interrupted.

“I think I’m going to be an even greater success than I am already,” Guy said. “People will be battering at my door to be introduced to you.”

They passed through twisting streets lined with shops overflowing with leather goods and fruit and tourist trinkets. They came to an unassuming glass door flush with the street and entered. An opulent hotel opened out before them, backed by a garden. They were welcomed by the management with a great repetition of
“Oui, monsieur le comte”
and
“Non, monsieur le comte”
for Guy.

“Eh bien,”
Guy said when they had registered. “We’re going to a party at Dino’s in a little while. Dino di Lorenzo. Do you know him?”

“I know who he is,” Peter said.

“Ah, yes, of course. He has one or two good pictures. Very rich. He might be useful for you to know. His food and drink are exquisite. You’ll be wooed by the most beautiful boys this side of the heavenly choir. They’re frightfully expensive but that’s of no interest to you two.”

“Do you know if an American called Peggy Guggenheim’s here?” Peter asked. “I think she usually spends some time here.”

“I’ve heard of her. She has a friend here—you know, the one that takes care of Norman Douglas—he should know. He’ll probably be at Dino’s tonight. Will eight-thirty suit you? We’ll meet down here. And don’t think for a minute that the drinks that will soon be brought you are gifts of the management. It’s from me.” He turned to Charlie. “Be prepared for a surprise. Your friend will be there, of course.”

They thanked him and were escorted to their room by a pretty little bellboy. Charlie thought briefly of Milly. Once alone, Peter gave Charlie a kiss and laughed and shook his head.

“Where are we? It’s incredible. We must be dreaming. We did sail in here on a yacht, didn’t we? And now look at us. Golly, you were so right. There’s something about sailing and the sun and sea, and wearing old clothes or nothing, and then suddenly finding yourself in a place like this, that really hits you. It’s nothing like traveling in the usual way.”

Their windows gave onto a vista of villas and terraced gardens falling away to the sea. The sun was setting into it. Charlie looked and found nothing new in it and turned away. “I knew you’d love it, baby,” he said.

There was a knock on the door and a table was rolled in bearing a bottle of whisky, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and a bowl of caviar on ice.

“You wish me to open both,
signori?”
the waiter asked. They assented and he did so and left. Peter led Charlie to the table.

“Really, Guy is too much,” he said. “He even remembered that I like champagne at parties. And caviar! What should we do to thank him?”

“Sell him another of my pictures.” They laughed together as they poured themselves drinks.

“Are you sure you want to go to this party?” Peter asked. The thought of a horde of beautiful boys made him a trifle nervous. If they were singled out for attentions, it would be difficult to feign total indifference. Charlie had admitted to susceptibilities Peter had never suspected existed. He didn’t know how he would take it now if he caught him showing even a casual interest in a beauty. All in all, he would prefer for both of them to avoid temptation rather than resist it. “You know what it’ll be like. You’ve always hated queer parties.”

“That’s because everybody’s usually so hideously unattractive.” Charlie smiled at him across his glass. “I’m perfectly happy looking at beauties. Since we’re queer, it’s about time we got some fun out of it.”

Peter laughed with astonishment. Charlie had never so cheerfully and unabashedly put himself on an equal footing with their kind. Was there an element of danger in the openness he had always longed for? “I wonder who this mysterious friend of yours is. Guy made a point of him being
your
friend. It must be a long time since you’ve seen him.”

“I can’t imagine. Somebody from Princeton? I don’t remember anybody at Princeton who would qualify as
the
beauty of Capri.” There were so few possibilities that Charlie had already made a guess at who it must be. He saw no reason to tell Peter until he knew.

“Probably one of those dozens of lovers you had while I was away,” Peter said boldly, testing Charlie’s new permissiveness. Charlie’s lovers were so firmly in the past that they should be able to joke about them but they had never had anything of the sort to joke about before. He had an apprehensive moment waiting to see how Charlie would respond.

“Could be,” he said casually. “There were some beauties among them.”

“I’ll bet there were.” Peter grinned, feeling a new total ease in their intimacy. All Charlie’s guards were falling at last. If there was danger in it, it was a danger accompanied by the promise of rich rewards. “Thank God they were all so long ago. They must be positively decrepit by now.” He uttered a peal of exuberant laughter as he threw off restraint and refilled his glass.

He made substantial inroads on the bottle of champagne while they prepared to meet Guy. His hilarity grew and was contagious. They were laughing so much that they had difficulty getting dressed. They both wore rough silk suits with bright, open-necked silk shirts. There were golden streaks in Charlie’s hair that almost matched Peter’s white-gold head. Their skin took the sun in the same way so that they were equally dark. The similarity between them had become startling.

“I’m not going to go on telling you how beautiful you are,” Guy said when they appeared in the lobby. “It accomplishes nothing for me and simply makes you more pleased with each other.”

Charlie put his arm around Peter’s shoulder as they thanked him again for his gift.

“I thought you were sending us drinks,” Charlie said. “I didn’t know it was going to be the whole bar. Peter’s drunk. It’ll be your fault if he disgraces us.”

“I’m going to. I’m going to elope with Guy. You never buy me caviar.”

“Come then. We’ll go to the party first and elope after.”

They set off away from the town down a stepped walk that wandered through gardens and villas. Palms and cypresses were silhouetted against the dark luminous sky. In time, they came to an ornate gate and turned into a vine-clad colonnade. Party sounds accompanied them and grew louder as they approached. They came out onto a wide, brightly lighted terrace with columns framing the sea. The company was mostly male, with a few exquisitely turned-out women scattered about, like part of the decor. Drinks were offered them as they were introduced to their host. Guy was immediately surrounded by friends. He performed introductions, interests shifted, Peter was soon the laughing center of a group of his own. As it should be, Charlie thought. He was glad for him to be on his own. He had established his claim to him on the boat; Peter wouldn’t forget his insistent hands.

Charlie remained beside Guy. He found the standard of beauty extraordinarily high but all the young men looked as if they’d been cut out of a pattern—dark, liquid-eyed, ruby-lipped, pearly-toothed. Their speech followed a pattern, too, with all the same words given an exaggerated emphasis so that he felt hemmed in by imminent hysteria.

“Come. We must find him, your friend,” Guy said, leading Charlie away. They crossed the terrace, constantly intercepted by dark ruby-lipped youths whom Guy introduced. Charlie wondered how he could tell them apart. Their liquid eyes lingered in Charlie’s when he smiled at them politely. They entered a vast living room, whose French doors gave onto the terrace. Charlie was introduced to a stylish woman. They moved on. Charlie saw him.

His back was turned, but he recognized him instantly. He had guessed right. He touched Guy’s arm and nodded in his direction. Guy peered and then smiled in affirmation.

Charlie approached him from behind. When he was close he stopped and said his name. Tony whirled and stared. He was little changed, but his features were fined-down and leanly sculptured. The cheekbones were more prominent, the hollows beneath them deeper, the long line of his jaw was stripped of all excess flesh. The mouth was still a provocation. His hair swept back from his brow very much as Charlie had arranged it long ago. His body looked refined and elegant in his smartly tailored white jacket.

“I don’t believe it,” Tony murmured.

They smiled as they moved toward each other. Tony lifted his head and his lips parted expectantly. Holding his drink carefully to avoid spilling it, Charlie put his other arm around him and their mouths met. They exchanged a long, consuming kiss. Charlie became aware of a hush falling around them. Let the fancy faggots stare. Was Peter watching? He would explain it later. There were a number of things he was just beginning to understand that he would explain to Peter. Their lips clung to each other another moment and then they drew apart.

“That mouth,” Charlie murmured, looking at it.

“Did I ever tell you about yours?” Tony asked. “It’s really you, all right. The one and only. I was talking about you just last night.”

“I know. Guy told me, but wouldn’t tell who it was. I guessed it was you.”

“Really? How?”

“He said it was
the
beauty of Capri. I couldn’t think of anybody else who would fill the bill.” They laughed and Charlie drank his drink, which he had somehow managed not to spill. Tony didn’t have a glass. Charlie was amazed at the transformation of his voice and accent. The roughness was gone. There was a trill in his
r
and some of his vowels had acquired a foreign shape. If he were meeting him for the first time, he wouldn’t have been sure he was an American.

“I was crushed when I heard you’d left St. Tropez,” Tony said. “We’re going to be there later in the season. To have missed you by so little would’ve been more than I could bear.”

“We?”

Tony smiled slyly. “Haven’t you heard?” He laughed and pronounced the name of the king of a minor European country whose throne had been a wartime casualty and who was frequently mentioned in international gossip columns.

“You’re with
him?”
Charlie asked, astounded.

“I’m a queen. Who would’ve suspected it? How long are you going to be here? I was just leaving. His Majesty is having some trouble with his arthritis.”

“We’re here on a yacht. We leave sometime tomorrow.”

“Oh, no,” Tony protested. “I’ve got to talk to you. You’re still with Peter, aren’t you? That’s marvelous. It must be some sort of a record. I suppose you couldn’t come with me now for a little while?”

“Why not?”

“Would you? That would be heaven. It’s very near. I have to go see that His Majesty is fed properly. We could have a gossip and come back.”

“Let’s go,” Charlie said promptly. He looked for Peter as they made their way through the crowd to the terrace. He didn’t see him. It didn’t matter. It was time for them to stop keeping such close tabs on each other. He encountered Guy.

“Tell Peter when you see him that I’ve gone with Tony. I’ll be back later.”

“Fidelity. Fidelity. I never knew the word had so many meanings.”

Charlie laughed. “Just say that I’m with an old friend—not that I’m in bed with an old friend.” He caught up with Tony. They strolled back up toward the town and in a few minutes turned in at a gate. A policeman was standing in front of it and gave them a spirited salute as they passed.

“I’m stunned,” Charlie said. “Little old Tony. You’ve really made it.”

“Thanks to you. You gave me ideas. I’ve been over here since the war ended. It’s hustlers’ paradise. Well, that’s over. Unless a
reigning
monarch proposes, I think I’ve gone as far as I want to go.”

They walked up through a garden to broad steps that mounted to a lavishly furnished terrace. At the top, Tony stopped. “We might as well stay out here. I’ll go check in with His Majesty. I promised to tell him who was there. I’ll send somebody out with drinks.” Tony went on into an ornate living room. Charlie could see servants moving about inside. He had the curious sense of a “presence” locked away somewhere within. Tony stopped and spoke to a liveried manservant and gestured toward the terrace. The man came out and asked Charlie what he wanted to drink.

Tony was soon back. He stood in the doorway and looked at Charlie for a long moment. “Charlie. Remember what just saying your name used to do to me? You’re more magnificent than ever.” He resumed his gutter voice, “I’ll let ya fuck me, if that’s watcha want.” They both laughed. Tony’s face sobered. “Some joke. If you knew how often I’ve thought of it and wished it could’ve happened just once more. I know I shouldn’t rush things, but is there any chance? Would you be even faintly interested?”

“What would His Majesty say?”

“Oh, I’m allowed a private life. We’re terribly civilized about that sort of thing over here.”

“Well then, much as I hate to, I’ll have to say no. I’ll bet you don’t hear that word often.”

“I guess that kiss gave me ideas. I thought I felt things happening.”