CHAPTER 25
TED MILES STOOD UNDER THE HOTEL awning smoking a cigarette, wondering just what he should do. Something about the superb cut of his clothes and the spotlessness of his linen reminded one of an advertisement for costly tailors and haberdashers. The freshness of his face and the breeziness of his bearing in no way suggested his inner thoughts. He watched the bellboys loading and unloading cabs. They moved up and down the steps like ants, each with his bag slung under his arm, bending eagerly at the sight of a coin or a rumpled bill. He looked down at them again and ran a hand over his smooth jaw.
For some time he was not aware of Paul's close presence, but when he noticed the wet clothed boy, he smiled.
"Looks like you got caught in the rain," he said good-naturedly.
Paul grinned back and stroked the front of his shirt. "I sure did … This is some night, isn't it?"
"It sure is. Does it rain like this often in New Orleans?"
"This is typical New Orleans weather. It'll probably continue like this for a couple of days."
"Oh, no; don't say that." Ted chuckled. He threw away his cigarette and lit another one. He also handed Paul the package. "It would rain on my first day here. What in the hell can a fellow do on a night like this?"
"I generally get drunk," said Paul and wished the eyes were blue instead of brown. There was a provocative glance, and a gleam of perfect teeth. His face was arresting, sensitive, medieval in some strange inexplicable way, and Paul was reminded of a dancer he had once known. Could he but rob him of his English tweeds, and put him in tights, with stripes running around his legs, he was sure he would have looked the same. He wished he could have remembered the dancer's last name. He remembered the first, Peter … Peter … Armentrout … that was it … Armentrout, and Peter's eyes followed his … they were saying … "How about me buying us a drink?"
Paul lost the thread of the past. "I'd like that … I don't like to drink alone." He paused, expecting him to smile, but he went on smoking his cigarette, and Paul noticed, faint as gossamer, the line between his brows.
"It's no fun to drink alone," Ted said brusquely, "I'm Ted Miles."
He held out his hand which Paul took.
"I'm Paul Boudreaux."
"Where can we go, Boudreaux?"
"Boudreaux?"
"Okay; where can we go, Paul?" The gesture with which he accompanied the words was so pompous that both broke into laughter.
"That's better," grinned Paul. "There's lots of places, but I think I should go home and change. I've been walking in rain. Silly to like to walk in the rain, isn't it?"
"I don't think so," Ted said sharply. "I kinda like it myself. Seems to clean one's self." He smiled now. "Do you live far … I do think you should change … might catch cold."
"I don't live too far from here. Would you like me to meet you or would you like to come to my apartment?"
"What do you think I should do? I don't like to drink alone either."
"You're more than welcome to come along."
"What will your wife say?"
"Wife? I'm not married," Paul stiffened, said, "are you?"
Ted did not answer, and Paul was aware of a feeling of discomfort, as though he had trespassed on forbidden ground. "I'm sorry," Paul continued … "I didn't mean to get personal … let's go to my apartment."
"That's all right," Ted said … "I am married," he seemed embarrassed with his words … "but she's in Los Angeles."
"That's a long ways from here … I don't guess she would mind," Paul told Ted … "I've got some bourbon and scotch and gin, if you like gin, at home … let's go … if you go in a bar by yourself those ‘B' girls pester the hell out of you."
"Sounds good. You must have read my mind … we'll get a cab, if we can, and I'll get a bottle."
"But I've got …"
"I was going to buy you a drink … remember?"
"All right …"
Ted hailed a cab and they both got in. The car seemed to have the wings of Mercury as it rambled down Royal Street. It went dangerously fast, and the danger seemed to please them both, because it was taking them to adventure, because they were young.
The sky was blue over the Cathedral, and in the wash of mist it looked new. Even the heavy doors had lost their weathered look. One of them stood ajar, and as they passed, Paul could see the dancing flames clustered about the feet of a beautiful statue. There was a wild, sweet joy in his heart now as he looked back at the man of yesterday wrapped in secret self.
They got out of the cab and walked toward the door of his building. On the right side a mass of crystal chandeliers gleamed through the wet plate glass window and on the left an array of golden furniture.
Ted had paid the cab driver and Paul now said … "Can't I pay for anything?"
"No," Ted said emphatically. "You've done your part by rescuing a lonesome guy."
Inside Paul's apartment, he turned quickly to Ted and told him to mix himself a drink … a big one. He pointed to the stocked bar.
"Okay," Ted said, walking to the bar … "I'll mix you one too. What do you want?"
"A little bourbon and coke," said Paul. "I won't be long." He turned and went into his bedroom and stood undressed when Ted entered, carrying two large, thick glasses.
"Try this," he said.
Paul took the glass and clumsily reached for a robe. He could feel the color creeping into his face. A change had come upon their evening, it was not the thing of gossamer it had been. Ted had the face of one who walks in his sleep, and for a wild moment the idea came to Paul that he would be kissed right then and there, and that the tangled orders of their sub-conscious minds were the same. They were both in a trance … both lonely and desirous of each other. He took the glass, after a second and said … "Thanks … Ted."
"You're welcome," Ted said. Then asked, "Where's the bathroom?"
"There …"
He was sitting on the bed putting on some dry socks when Ted returned. He smiled up at him thinking he would not be alone tonight … Tonight there would be Ted. And if there weren't any Teds or Gaylords he'd go searching for someone else … Someone … But tonight there would be Ted. He would be there and he would smile, saying, "You're very nice, Paul … very nice …"
Ted sat on the bed … "You've a lovely apartment, Paul. Almost too nice to leave."
"We don't have to," Paul said, and his fingers trembled around the glass. He was in a flushed stage looking at Ted, seated so close, and it was almost too much to bear just sitting there. He was like a little schoolboy being tempted by a stick of striped candy.
"How's your drink?"
Paul tasted it again, said, "Very good … how's yours?"
"Fine … would you mind staying in?"
"'Course not. I'd rather. It's so nasty outside." He took a deep drink and arose … "I'll turn on the radio."
Didn't Ted know he didn't want to go out, he thought … was he going to have to make the first move? In his present savage mood, he wanted no delay, the quicker, the better. The whiskey was taking effect, making him warm inside. Might as well get it over with … find out more about his companion. "Why don't you take off your coat and tie … get comfortable."
"If you don't mind … that's a good idea." Ted took off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. He untied his cravat and unbuttoned his stiffly starched collar … "That is better. Wonder who invented them?" He ran his hand over his neck. "Kinda hard on the neck aren't they."
"Kinda. I wish," Paul said savagely, still mindful of his thoughts and the soft smile, "I wish they'd take stiff collars and throw them to the wind."
"To the wind?"
Paul looked at him, seeing him masculine, tender, high cheeked, wide of eyebrows, fair; and a lump formed in his throat. The mouth was just right, with a touch of wry humor about it, and the eyes looked out of hidden mysteries. He's married, he found himself thinking … he's married and has a wife in Los Angeles. It was only a quick thought for Ted had suddenly taken him in his arms. He shivered inside himself and the tenseness seemed unbearable. He went up on tiptoes and met the lips, his eyes closing. His arms stole upward about the neck and lips met his, hot and passionately.
The radio blared out a jazz tune but was not heard by either of them.
Paul's mind ran riot then, figures came before him and pictures after pictures … and all the while he was in Ted's arms, giving back each kiss … meeting each demand. His own robe rustled slightly. He heard the sound of loose change rattle as Ted drew off his trousers. It stopped with a clump as they fell to the carpet. His robe fell silently on them. And then their bare bodies met and hands dug deep of each one's flesh.
They laid back on the goat skin and Ted's grip and his arms were loops of steel, his lips wine, and his body was night descending.
On the other side of town, Dusty, glamorous female impersonator, sat sewing sequins on a new "drag." His slightly bald head ached, and it required an effort to focus his eyes upon the tiny openings.
His lover brushed the drops of rain from his forehead as he came into the room. He looked at Dusty with an indifferent glance and lit a cigarette.
"Did you get a bottle, Bill?" Dusty asked.
"No," he answered harshly. "I didn't get a bottle."
"Why in the hell didn't you?" Dusty glared back at him. "Isn't that what you went out for? Where's my five?"
"Your five," yelled Bill. "So it's your five now, well I spent it on a piece of good ass. I needed something good for a change. What else ya want to know?"
"If I thought you did …"
"Oh, shut up."
The sound of his voice in the tumult was so clear and definite, so full of pure scorn and rage, that Dusty stopped cold. He grabbed a pair of scissors and clutched them tightly. His face was contorted. "Don't tell me to shut up you no good son-of-a-bitch. Don't you ever tell me to shut up you damn cheap pimp," he shrieked with rage.
"Shut up," Bill yelled and threw his cigarette at Dusty.
There followed a shocking crash at Bill's feet. Looking down quickly, he saw a confusion of glass fragments and the cigarette butts bounding across the floor. Bill laughed loud. "I don't need an ashtray." He laughed again real loud and dodged a glistening object that shot past him. He coolly raised his eyes and with another loud laugh yelled, "Ya missed me ya wild tempered bitch." He laughed again. "I don't need a hair cut." Still grinning savagely he came toward Dusty like a wrestler meeting a better one. "Ya damn wild cat … but I like um wild … so I can tame em …"
There was a sound of tearing cloth. Dusty screamed and his long nails dug long bloody furrows down Bill's face. He only laughed louder and tightened his grip.
"Don't, God damn you … you're hurting my arm."
"Say ya love me … say it … come on … say it."
"Stop … you bastard."
"I said say it." He swung Dusty roughly to face him.
"Don't Bill … you know how I feel toward you …"
"Don't be so God-damn jealous … ain't you getting enough …"
"It's not that …"
"What is it … I've got enough for five women but I'm saving it just for you … you hear that … just you … you jealous bitch … some day I'm going to break your damn neck … come here …" His mouth came down in a hard, devouring kiss and as the room reeled about him, Dusty thought, he's no good … no good at all, but I don't care … I love him …
Through the closed windows, Paul could hear the rain still falling. He did not want to flee this time; only to settle back peacefully on the wide bed with the darkness around him like a living thing, around and within, filling up the echoing contentedness of his heart.
Paul said lazily, "I want a cigarette. Want one, Ted?"
"Uh huh … there's some in my shirt."
"I've some right here." And Paul swung sideways and turned on a lamp. Something lay forlorn on the floor near the bed. It was their clothes. He grinned, looking at them, and reached for a cigarette box. He handed Ted a lighted one and lit one for himself. Then he put a pillow behind Ted's back and asked, "How's that?"
"Wonderful … only one thing missing." Ted held out his arms and the other crawled into them.
"I'd just like to lay here and dream and dream."
"Dream of what?"
"Just dream."
"No bad dreams … I hope … just pleasant ones?"
"Some are good … one isn't …"
"What isn't?"
"When are you going back to Los Angeles … and your wife?" "I'm not going back," he answered. He glanced at the hand in his. It was strong, long fingered, manicured and entirely capable. He looked for lines of effeminacy in the face, but the eyes were male, yet tender and kind. They reminded him of a picture he had seen in the Huntington Library in Pasadena of a young man of days long past, but he couldn't remember the artist or the name of the picture. He went on … "No … Paul … I'm not going back … I never intended to. I'm divorced." His mouth was so close to the other's that his breath rustled against the other's lips.
So this wasn't a one night stand after all, Paul thought. And they wouldn't be wasting last moments laughing at each other, telling how much fun it had been and hope to see you again. He would not stroll back to the bedroom alone after he had said goodbye to Ted … because he was not leaving … or was he …?
"Are you staying in New Orleans?" Paul asked.
"I'm staying in New Orleans … I hope you'll let me come back once in a while."
"You'll always be welcome … you know that."
"Thanks, Paul."
"Tonight has been mine, and I'll never forget it. I wish it could go on and on."
"It's been mine too, Paul. I don't know when I've ever been so contented. I don't seem to remember the things bothering me before I met you. And my mind was full … real full … I didn't know which way to turn … or where to go … I wanted to stay in New Orleans and I didn't. I wanted to go and I didn't know where to go." He sighed deeply … "Ever been in that shape."
Paul was assailed with a familiar pang of loneliness, and from the street, a girl screamed with delight and a horn from a passing cab caught it up and carried it deep into his mind. Why was he remembering drinking coffee at the dingy old French Market? Why was he remembering the place he had met Arnold?
Damn, that's an ugly boy, he had thought; but the ugly one had gone home with him and stayed. How happy they had been the months following that meeting. How utterly full of joy his soul had been, and how handsome Arnold had become in his eyes. Yes, he had wanted to leave after their separation. He had wanted to go places and there had been no places for forgetfulness or rest. He had come back to New Orleans feeling as lonely as when he had left.
"I know what you mean, Ted. It's happened to me too."
"Paul … are you crying?"
"I'm sorry … I was just thinking." He smiled and his eyes were dry.
"Of someone?"
"He used to live with me."
"Oh." Ted's voice was distant and grave. "Still miss him?"
"No … I don't miss him … I'm glad it's all over."
"Do you like to live alone?"
"I detest it … why don't you live with me?" It was just that suddenly.
"Would you really want me to?"
"I asked you, didn't I?"
"I know you did, Paul … but …"
"But what?"
"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "I don't think I know how to explain. I don't know if I belong to your sort of world for one thing."
"What is your sort of world," Paul asked.
"I'm not sure … really … please believe me … I don't know … you see … I am divorced … free of the girl I spent three years with. She wasn't bad … guess it was my fault she fell in love with another man. We didn't belong, even though we tried. I could see she wasn't happy, and I think she knew I wasn't. I tried to be a man and the first year was quite happy but after that I began to be restless … I was mixed up like an unworked puzzle … all to pieces. I even went to a psychiatrist but it didn't do any good. It's tough to enjoy both sexes."
"I guess it is," Paul muttered. "I've never had an affair with a woman … don't guess I ever will. I've been gay all my life. Queer, normal people call it."
"You're not so queer."
"You don't know me very well … you don't know what a bitch I really am. I've been in love lots of times … each time I knew it was the real thing, but it wasn't. They all leave … like Gaylord …"
"Gaylord?"
"I met him a few nights ago and fell madly in love again."
"Why isn't he with you?"
"He lives in Texas … he's in love with someone else."
"Oh."
"Tonight, I'm in love with you … see … I'm really a bitch. I fall in love, I cruise … I do everything a common bitch does … but tonight I do love only you. You don't believe me, do you?"
"I don't know … it's hard to believe love is so easily found."
"Easy … no it isn't easy to know that you will leave too."
"Leave?"
"I'm the one that gets left all the time."
"You'll have a hard time getting rid of me."
"You mean … I've got a room-mate?"
"You have if you want one … if you'd call me a room-mate … I hope you don't."
"You work fast too, don't you, Ted?"
"Got to be fast … I'm getting old."
"How old?"
"I'm old enough … see?"
"So you've got hair on your chest … that's old enough for me."
"We're not a bit alike, you know that don't you, Ted?" Paul looked him straight in the eyes. "There's no reserve about me. I lose my temper on the slightest provocation, flare up, and get so mad I could kill." He smiled, and pinched Ted's arm.
"That's all right with me … I may help you," grinned Ted.
"You want to get rid of me, scare me so I won't move in?"
Suddenly Paul rubbed his cheek against the other's. "I don't want to get rid of you," he whispered. "I just want you to know what you are going to have to put up with … but I don't want to get rid of you … I want you to stay."
"I'll take my chances … I'll stay." Ted kissed the lips close by.
"And I'll take my chances too," whispered Paul. He was about to enter a new life beginning with this moment. Tomorrow it would continue and the following tomorrows … who knows …