The Good Life (27 page)

Billy was right; there was something very companionable about peacefully breaking the law together. They were genuinely committed to each other. This was life, lolling on a yacht on the Mediterranean, practically naked and smoking opium. A rich man's vice. He had come a long way in a month. What next?

They took turns on the pipe until it was finished, then simply lay in a state of mindless inertia. Billy stirred eventually and sat up.

“How good it is,” he sighed. “We'll have another. Are you enjoying it, my dearest?”

“I think so, Billy, but I can't be sure. I was pretty plastered after dinner. I think I'm almost asleep, and yet my mind is working after a fashion. My legs and arms feel so heavy. Is that part of it?”

“I imagine so.” He lit the burner and sliced off another piece from the block of opium into the heating bowl. “We'll see how you feel after a second one. That should be enough for the first time. I know I'm better off if I don't go over three.”

“Is it very habit-forming?”

“Very insidious. I didn't think anything of it at first. Little by little I began to crave it. Breaking the habit can be a nightmare. I won't let us be careless about it. I've learned my lesson.” He wielded his scalpel and took a draw on the replenished pipe before handing it to Perry.

Perry tried to pinpoint his reaction, but his mind kept tilting and spinning off into an abyss. He had to make a constant effort to pull himself back from the edge of unconsciousness.

After a few more turns, he became aware of unprovoked lust beginning to ruffle the surface of what had seemed his perfect tranquillity. His cock stirred and acquired vigor. No erotic visions intruded on the innocent blank of his drifting mind as his erection locked into position on his belly.

“Did you say impotent?” he asked, throwing back his dressing gown and lifting his hips.

“I might have known it would have quite the opposite effect on you. What a splendid creature you are. I'd like to watch a beautiful boy making love to you.”

Perry stretched voluptuously, smiling with vague benevolence, and pulled himself to his knees. It required more effort than seemed reasonable. He let the dressing gown slide off him and straightened, making an indolent display of his potent nakedness. He wondered if Billy were providing an imaginary lover to complete the picture — he had a pretty good idea who it would be.

He swayed and let himself fall against the footboard. He unfolded himself and sprawled across the bed.

“I'm about to collapse, Billy,” he said dreamily as his mind tilted him again toward the abyss. “I'd better go do it in my room.”

“I'm just fixing a final pipe. Three won't hurt us.”

“Don't be surprised if you find yourself smoking it alone,” Perry said. “I'm talking in my sleep. Do you suppose drink has anything to do with it?”

“It's been a long day. We can sleep late in the morning.”

Perry lifted his arms to the ceiling and arched his back. “Mmm. I feel good. Are you still there?”

“About to arrive with reinforcements.”

Perry heard him moving around beside him but couldn't find the will or the energy to move his head to see what he was doing. In a moment he felt the pipe against his hand and pulled himself out of some dark cavity of semiconsciousness to take it. He rolled up onto the support of his elbow and took a deep puff. Billy's hand was waiting to take the pipe back. He let him have it and swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood as if he'd been lifted by an exterior force. For some reason he'd expected it to be difficult.

He was naked, and his cock stood up buoyantly in front of him. “Hey, look at me,” he exclaimed. “I've got a hard-on. Have we been doing anything?”

“Just lying here smoking peacefully.” Billy sounded amused.

“Nice. Wasn't I wearing anything?”

“You came in your dressing gown.”

“Oh, sure.” He saw it lying on the bed and picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. “It must be late. I'd better go. Okay?”

“Very much so. You're an adorable companion.”

“We get on.” He leaned over and shook Billy's foot affectionately. The room looked familiar; he knew where the door was. He got through it and closed it behind him, then took a faltering step away from it and slumped against the wall.

His legs suddenly felt too heavy to lift. He took a few more lurching steps and let himself go against the wall again. He wondered if his erection was ever going to go away. He looked ridiculous out here all alone with his cock sticking up so conspicuously as if it were ready for some fun.

He was on a boat. He knew that much. He was with Billy on a boat. Why didn't he go back and ask Billy where he was supposed to be going? He felt as if he'd left Billy a long time ago.

He pushed himself away from the wall and moved on, dragging his feet. He stumbled and caught himself against the wall, then let himself slide down it until he was sitting on the floor.

Much better. He dropped his dressing gown onto his lap and pulled his knees up. He could sleep at last. His head lolled against the wall, and his eyes closed as he suspended his efforts to get himself wherever he belonged. He had the fleeting impression that somebody had joined him, but he didn't look. He was steeped in sleep. It rose and spread through him like soft music.

Sun was shining through gaps in the curtains when he woke up. He had a slight headache, nothing serious. He lay still and looked around him. He was in bed in his cabin with a sheet over him. There was an electric clock set in the wall in front of him. It was just past 10:30. Something about Bet. Had she arrived last night?

He assembled fragments of the evening in his mind. He'd had a wonderful dinner with Billy at Chez Didine. Bet had arrived and gone again. There had been a note. Billy and opium.

He remembered his helpless attempt to find his way back, and then everything fell into place. Sylvain had found him in the hall, helped him into the cabin, and had made abortive attempts to make love with him. It hadn't amounted to much, but Perry regretted it.

He wouldn't have let it happen if he'd been in his right senses. He didn't want complications with the cabin boys. He could plausibly pretend that he didn't remember it and see if Sylvain would let it go at that. Probably not. Sylvain was a hustler.

He knew about opium now. If he hadn't had so much to drink, he doubted if it would have had much effect on him. The word itself was so cloaked in menace and mystery that you were all keyed up for perdition before you even got a whiff of the stuff.

He was learning to take words in his stride. He was becoming a man of the world.
Oh, sure. I've smoked opium in the south of France
. It would sound good at a cocktail party.

He pulled himself cautiously out of bed and discovered no ill effects from the pipe. Coffee would fix him up. He went to the head and went through his morning routine, putting things away in a cabinet as he went along. He squeezed himself into the tiny swimming trunks and went above.

Emile was waiting on deck with a courteous good-morning greeting. Perry ordered black coffee.

“Do you wish it served in your cabin, sir?”

“I'm here now. Is there a bell if I want to ring for it?”

“Yes, sir. In the bathroom next to the mirror.”

“Right. I didn't look there. Next time.”

Emile withdrew, and Perry sat, surveying the port over the stern. A number of women in black were coming and going through a massive archway at the angle where two sides of the harbor met. Farther along, where the fishing boats were tied up, several men were sitting on the quay working on nets that were spread out around them. It was a lazy, tranquil scene. There was no sign of last night's holiday crowd.

He reminded himself that he had a couple of unread books with him as well as papers and magazines picked up along the way, not to mention the shelves of books in the living room. There should be plenty of time for reading on board.

Emile returned with a pot of coffee and sugar on a tray. “Nothing to eat, sir?” he asked, setting it down and pouring.

“Not today. Wait a minute. It's after 11, isn't it?”

Emile ducked down and peered out under the awning. “Ten minutes past, sir.”

From his chair Perry could see the tower on the hill that dominated the village. He hadn't noticed that it had a clock. “It's not too sinful after 11. Give me five minutes to have some coffee, and then you can bring me the coldest beer on the boat.”

The youth laughed. “You always wait till after 11?”

“Usually. Don't ask me why.” He drank some of the strong coffee and immediately felt better.

“Are you on holiday?”

“In a sense. I quit a job a few weeks ago. When I go back to New York in the fall, I'm going to look for a job I like.” It made him feel good to make such a proclamation. He could make definite plans for the future now.

“With education, you can do many things,” Emile said. “How old?”

“How old am I? Twenty-one. How about you?”

“The same. Twenty-one next month. I have a girl in Toulon.”

“Good luck.”

“You know what it's like. I bet you have many girls. A big fine-looking man.”

“Thanks. We'll see what we find along the coast.”

“Many beautiful girls. You know Mr. Vernon's daughter? She's a little young, but she will be a beautiful woman soon. May be already since last year.”

“You didn't see her last night? She was here. Sylvain saw her. She'll be back some time today, May be for lunch.” He noticed Emile's expression alter at the mention of Sylvain.

“He told me that he'd seen her,” he said stiffly. “He says he can have her if he wants her. He talks big.”

“I guess some men say that about any woman, but he better not let Mr. Vernon hear him say it about his daughter.”

“I tell him to shut his mouth. You've finished your coffee. Do you want your beer?”

“What a good idea. You've made the time fly.”

Perry was left to nurse his grudge against Sylvain. Fooling around with the good-looking cabin boy was one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. Sylvain was the sort who would boast about having him.

The thought made him seethe with shame and resentment. He felt responsible for giving him ideas about Bet. Once encouraged, a guy like Sylvain would think that everybody on board was incapable of resisting him.

Emile returned with the beer, and Perry took a couple of eager swallows. He sat back with a grateful sigh. “Wonderful, Emile. Thank you. It's good and cold.”

“I don't deserve any credit. There's plenty more.”

“That's welcome news. I'm going forward to get some sun before Mr. Vernon appears. If I shout, bring me another, please. My life is in your hands.”

Emile smiled. “You've almost finished that one. If I wait a minute, you'll be ready for another. You can take a full glass with you.”

“Straight thinking. The sun will wait a minute.”

He rose and wandered aft to the top of the gangplank and leaned against the rail. Emile stayed with him as if preparing to seize the glass the instant he emptied it. Perry checked to see that the car was still there. He hadn't been paying much attention to anything last night.

As soon as he settled into a routine, he intended to drive to the beach every morning. May be Bet would want to go with him.

He finished the beer and turned to Emile. “Okay, Emile. You guessed right. May be the next one will last a little longer.” He handed over the glass and hunched over the rail, gazing at the somnolent scene.

The cafés across the way were beginning to show signs of life. Waiters in long white aprons were moving among the tables, and a few people were sitting at them.

He noticed a young girl rise from one of them and thread her way to the quay. She was wearing a very smart summer dress, but she had a battered straw hat on her head and flat espadrilles like Perry's on her feet. A straw bag like the ones the local women carried for shopping was slung over her shoulder.

She seemed to be heading in the general direction of the boat but not very purposefully, slowing her pace to look up at the buildings she was passing. She gave the impression of being so familiar with her surroundings that she didn't have to look where she was going. He smiled at her youth; despite the smart dress there was something almost childlike about her.

She stopped in the middle of the quay and looked up toward the hill. After a moment she turned and headed with decision for the gangplank. She looked up at him as she approached.

“Is Mr. Vernon there?” she called.

“Yes. I'm not sure if he's up yet. You want to see him?”

“Well, yes, rather. I'm his daughter.”

“Oh, for God's sake! You're Bettina.”

His knees buckled. This had all happened before. He felt he might faint. This sort of thing is called something — something déjà or déjà something. He started down the gangplank as she started up. He saw there wasn't room for both of them and hastily backed up. His heart was pounding. The other time this scene had ended in disaster. He mustn't let it happen now.

“Come up. Come in. Whatever you're supposed to say on a boat. Come aboard, I guess.”

“That sounds quite nautical.” She climbed briskly.

She had shed her youth on the quay. She was a confident young lady accustomed to command. She gave a tug to the hat that gave it a style to match the dress. She stepped out on deck and stopped to look at him. “I daresay you're Perry,” she said.

“Yes.” He was acutely conscious of his nakedness. It really wasn't decent to appear in front of women like this. He turned away with an attempt at modesty and found Emile standing behind him, holding a glass of beer on a tray. “Thanks,” he said, taking it. A chill ran down his back. He'd been holding a beer in the other déjà.