The Good Life

by Gordon Merrick

  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.

  “I remember you,” Bet said. “You were sweet to me last summer. You’re…wait a minute. Not Andre. Emile?”

  Emile grinned, and they shook hands, bursting into a rapid exchange of French. She turned back to Perry. “I’ve been explaining,” she said, “that my friends left me at Senequier’s an hour ago. I’ve been sitting surrounded by luggage, waiting for one of you to come rescue me. Doesn’t Daddy ever wake up?”

  “Oh, he’s probably awake,” Perry said. “I never bother him until he makes an appearance. I’ll go tell him you’re here. He’ll kill me if I let you just sit here.”

  “Have your beer. Emile’s getting me one.” She dropped into a chair. “He’s organizing a baggage brigade.”

  “Have you a lot? May be I should help.” He slid into a chair beside her. He felt more at ease sitting down.

  “Let’s have our beer together. I have only five pieces. I don’t think they weigh very much. They’ll get me squared away, and then you can tell Daddy I’m here. He likes everything to run like clockwork while his back’s turned.”

  “He was in quite a state about missing you last night. We didn’t get your note till about 11:30.”

  “I didn’t want to come at all. My friends got everything all mixed up. It was all totally unimportant, but I imagine Daddy thought I was off somewhere being raped.”

  “Something of the sort.”

  They looked at each other and laughed, taking the first step toward friendly relations. Perry relaxed, but a feeling of apprehension still fluttered around his heart.

  Emile arrived with the beer. He put it down beside Bet and went on down the gangplank, followed by Henri and the sailor, who put in an occasional appearance.

  Bet pulled her hat off and shook out her hair. It was soft and dark, with a slight natural-looking wave, and fell to her shoulders from a part on the side.

  As Perry had seen in the photograph, she had Billy’s strong chin. All her features were strongly modeled and well-formed. Her brows were straight, giving her dark eyes a direct, almost piercing look. It was a face of such maturity that he didn’t know how she had managed to look like a little girl a few minutes ago, but as he studied her face, he saw it happening again — something in her expression, something eager and willful and expectant that made her as vulnerable as a child.

  “I do like it here,” she exclaimed after taking a swallow of her beer. “I was walking along just now thinking how wonderful it is that it doesn’t change, just funny little things that show that somebody is taking care of it. Do you know it well?”

  “This is my first trip to Europe.”

  “How lovely. Isn’t it frightfully exciting for you?”

  “Yes. Everything about it. Surprising too. It’s different from what I expected.”

  “You’re not at all like what I expected. Mummy wrote about you. She says you’re a fortune hunter. I am too.”

  “You are?”

  “I have no choice. They’ve been drumming it into me ever since I was born that I have to marry a rich husband. Otherwise, somebody will get me who’s after me for my money, such as it is. I’ll be frightfully old if I wait for Grandma Hahn and Daddy to die. I’ll have to find a rich husband. I don’t mind so long as I like him. I would like to be rich, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m getting used to it. Actually, I’ve recently become what I would call rich, but I don’t think it’s enough for anybody to marry me for.”

  “We’ll have to hunt for fortunes. Let’s have a bet. I love betting on things. Whoever finds a fortune first has to give the other a hundred dollars. That’s fair. The one who gets a fortune will be able to afford a hundred dollars. Is it a deal?”

  “It’s the first bet I’ve ever heard of where both sides win. Shake.” He held out his hand. They looked at each other, laughing playfully, as she put her hand in his.

  He felt an unexpected shock of connection that was part of her little-girl quality — young and artless, confiding herself to him. She made him feel that if he were gentle but determined, he could do anything he liked with her. There was no reason to be afraid.

  But take it easy, he warned himself. Hands off. They were supposed to be pals, nothing more. What was happening in the revealing trunks had already disqualified him as a pal, but May be she wouldn’t notice. He let her shapely hand go and shifted in his chair, hoping for the best.

  The baggage brigade trooped
up the gangplank, heavily laden. The cabin boys were carrying two bags each, the sailor three more. Two had been added since she counted last. You couldn’t expect a schoolgirl to be accurate.

  A schoolgirl, he reminded himself, as tiresome as all the schoolgirls he’d ever known: grown-up and flirtatious one minute, probably screaming with outraged modesty the next. Even trying to be a pal would probably be a bore. If he was sex-starved, Sylvain would be almost preferable to getting involved with Bet.

  “Is that everything?” he asked.

  “It must be. I don’t know where it all came from.”

  “If you’re all safely on board, I better tell Billy. I mean your father.”

  “I call him Billy sometimes. It’s almost noon. Does he always sleep this late?”

  “I don’t think he’s sleeping. He just takes his time to get moving. If he’d known you were coming, he would’ve been out pacing the deck hours ago. You said noon in your note.”

  He stood. All was quiet in the trunks department. “If you order another beer, would you order another for me? I’ll be right back.” She’d ordered her first beer without referring to him. As it should be. It wasn’t for him to play the host.

  He went along the silent passage, noting how close his door was to Billy’s. It had seemed miles last night. He couldn’t remember ever having approached Billy in the morning on his own initiative. Was he supposed to knock? Why not? He did so. There was no reply. He remembered Billy’s trying the door of his cabin when he’d been with Timmy. May be knocking was an unnecessary formality. He tried the door. It was locked.

  “Billy,” he called. “Can I come in? Bet’s here.”

  There were sounds within, and the door opened. Billy stood in it, blocking the entrance. He was still in his dressing gown. “Is there anything the matter with her?” he asked, sounding flustered.

  “Of course not. She’s fine. She’s been waiting at a café. I’ve got her on board. Are you coming up?”

  Sylvain suddenly appeared, standing wordlessly behind Billy. He was naked. He lifted the whip and touched his forehead with the tip of it in a mocking salute. He then just as silently stepped back out of sight. It all happened so quickly that Perry might easily have believed that he’d imagined it. He found himself gazing witlessly at Billy.