An Idol for Others (38 page)

“I don’t know when we can start paying you–that’s Clara’s department–maybe not till this fall. But in the next week or two, so’s not to look as if we’re rushing it, I’d like you to start coming into the office whenever you can and sit in on all the stuff I’m laying on for next season. By the time we take off for Europe, you’ll probably be doing my job for me.”

“Europe. God. I thought I was dreaming before.”

They agreed that they must resume their normal working life the next day. They were up promptly, and Walter took his belongings back to Tenth Street and put them away. Longing for Mark began to gnaw at him before he was finished. He had been too grudging in the expression of his feelings. He should have told him he cared about him more than he had ever cared about anybody. Why not tell him that he was madly in love with him and get it over with? He was back at the old sticking point. He couldn’t tell somebody he was madly in love unless he was prepared to rearrange his life accordingly. The way Mark wanted him to. He still couldn’t imagine doing it for a man. He could have Mark without disturbing the public facade of his life with Clara. Their physical passion could be kept a secret. He had found a devoted friend.

He couldn’t get him out of his mind even at the office. He felt as if he’d been away a long time and ought to be busy catching up. He called Herb and arranged for the photographs to be sent around right away by messenger. Waiting, making calls, and taking others, he imagined Mark’s being there with him and knew that if they could get through the next week, everything would be all right. He felt for the keys in his pocket. Mark was to call later. No matter when Clara got back, he would have to see him somehow, if only for half an hour.

When the photographs arrived, he tore open the heavy envelope impatiently and spread them out on the coffee table. His heart began to pound. Mark was magnificent. Mark was a god. Mark was male beauty, taut and erotic. The pose they had hit on together had resulted in a series of the most stunning photographs he had ever seen: front, three quarters, breathtaking back. He felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. Had he actually possessed this remarkable being?

Clara called at midday to say she was staying over one more day and would be back the following afternoon. She sounded cross and rushed, and he let her go as if she were an intrusion on his real life. Another night with Mark. It would cushion the shock of transition from the last few days’ exclusive preoccupation with him to working him into a normal full life.

He spent an hour scissoring out bits of Mark’s anatomy to compose the poster, with sensational results. Herbie hadn’t yet applied his marbleizing technique to the negatives, which would make Mark unrecognizable.

When Mark called, he told him the good news about Clara. “You haven’t found a new boy for tonight, have you?”

“That’s getting to be a pretty bum joke,” Mark said.

“I know. Does it hurt?”

“God. You?”

“Just about unbearable. At least I have the photographs to look at Wait till you see them.” They made arrangements to spend another night together.

The next morning Walter saw Mark off for an early job. They knew they probably wouldn’t see each other till the next day, and their parting kiss was anguished. Walter went back to Tenth Street to change and turned up at the office on edge with fatigue and the prospect of facing Clara.

Late in the afternoon Clara called and said she was home. She still sounded cross. He told her he would be there in an hour. He finished his most pressing business by phone and took a taxi to Mark’s room. He promised himself he wouldn’t stay for more than half an hour. Clara might call again and find that he had left the office. He had to save his lies for the big occasions, whole evenings, or at least a couple of hours.

He let himself into an empty room. It was a blow. He had always assumed that he would find Mark when he wanted him. They would have to set up a system of regular communication.

He waited for what he judged to be ten minutes and then decided that too little time remained to make it worthwhile waiting longer. He left a note saying that he doubted he could get back that evening but would try. If not, Mark was to call the next day. He braced himself for Clara and went around the corner to Tenth Street. She was looking cross. They gave each other a peck on the cheek. Walter felt as if they had been away from each other for weeks and wondered if they would ever be really together again. He went to the bar and mixed himself a stiff drink.

“You’ve got a drink?” he said over his shoulder.

“Yes, I’ve had two enormous martinis,” she said, “and I’ll probably have two more.”

He took a big gulp of his drink and turned to her. She had settled into the chair she favored. He sat on the sofa near her.

“All right. Tell me all about it,” he said, trying to recapture the lightly affectionate tone he used with her.

“I won’t tell you
all
about it. It would bore you to distraction. In a nutshell, my name was never actually in the will. It was the eldest daughter of the first son of the second brother of God knows who. It seems there was a family conclave, and everybody agreed it must be me. The only other person it could be was my disgusting cousin Marion, and she was already so rich that a lousy $3,000,000 would have made her nose crinkle with disdain. We were both about seven at the time. They all agreed I should have a nest egg to tide me over until my revered parents kick the bucket. Now Daddy and the beastly Marion have conspired to have it reviewed by the courts. It’s one of those things that’ll take forever. I tried to reason with Marion, but Daddy has hypnotized her. It’s all for the good of the family or something.” She made a sound of barely contained fury in her throat.

“What do you mean, forever?”

“At least a year. Maybe two. Maybe five. It depends on whether I have to appeal, and so forth.”

He took another generous gulp of his drink and hastily put down the glass as the implication hit him. “But … you mean … we won’t be able to go to Europe?”

“That’s the first thing I thought. But we have to. It’s a legitimate office expense. We may have to cut it short. We’ll have to cancel the suites at the grand hotels. I won’t be able to do any shopping. At least I’ve found good lawyers who’ll take the case for a percentage. We won’t have to cope with legal fees.”

He waved his hand at her to cut her off. “But don’t you realize? We don’t have any money. We won’t be able to move out of here.”

“Not possibly. The lawyers think I have a perfectly good case, but if I win, they’re sure she’ll appeal. The problem is to line up–”

“Jesus Christ!” Walter shouted. He sprang up and turned his back on her. His eyes had suddenly filled with tears. All his plans and hopes were blasted. He couldn’t take Mark to Europe. He couldn’t have him move in with them. Everything had to be restudied and replanned. He rubbed his eyes and waited for his tears to subside. “Goddamn it,” he cried when he was able to turn back to Clara and retrieve his drink. “I’m sick to death of this. I’m the biggest figure in my field. I don’t mean just here. In the world. People write articles about me in Russia, and I can’t even afford to go there. I can’t afford anything. I want to get out of this dump. You’re the business genius. Arrange it.”

She sat, straight and composed, not looking cross anymore. “We’ve never thought about money, dearest.”

“No, because we thought you were going to have some. Your name not even in the will, for God’s sake. Who does your father think he is?”

“I could kill Daddy. Doing a thing like this, then going off to Europe so I can’t even discuss it with him. Don’t worry. We’ll win, dearest.”

“When? Five years? I want out of here now. I’m sick of living like this. Oh, Christ.” He went back to the bar and replenished his drink. He had a perfect excuse to say he wanted to go out and walk around and think. The words were on his lips, but he suppressed them. He didn’t want to tell Mark yet. He didn’t want to tell him until they had a whole night to make love and reassure each other. The thought of leaving him to go to Europe brought tears to his eyes again. He drank and kept his back to her. “Damn it, Clarry. Isn’t there something you can do? Can’t we get some money from the theater?”

“I don’t see how, dearest. The contracts are very carefully drawn.”

“I’m sure they are.”

Clara joined Walter at the bar. “I’m not very happy about it myself, you know.”

“Sure, darling.” He touched her hand and snatched it hastily away. He had never called her darling in his life. He felt himself blushing hotly. He moved away from her into the room. “The hell with it. Let’s forget it until I’ve had time to get used to it.”
Until I’ve had time to talk to Mark
, he thought.

He got through the evening with her somehow. She made them something to eat, and then they switched to wine and drank a great deal of it. She wanted to know what he had been doing. He told her of a call from Mark Travere and of being interested in him and taking him to dinner, throwing in a few casual details from the story he had concocted.

“It would be nice to find you a dependable assistant. I wouldn’t have thought a model would be the type.” She made his work sound faintly disreputable.

“I gather the modeling was a stopgap, and then he was very successful and went on with it.”

“Well, we can’t put him on the payroll till fall. You haven’t forgotten dinner with the Logans tomorrow?”

“It’s tomorrow?”

“Yes, and we’re having Tallulah and Evie and Clifton and some others for drinks on Thursday.”

“I knew it was some time this week. Why don’t I ask Mark Travere so you can meet him?”

“Would he fit with that crowd?”

“I think he’d fit with just about anybody. He’s very much a gentleman. That’s why I thought you’d probably like him in the office.”

“What about his wife? Did you say he was married?”

“Divorced. Apparently the wife and child are still in New Brunswick.”

“That’s better. An extra man. And good-looking? Maybe he’ll turn out to be a treasure. I want to see Herbie’s photographs.”

“They’re marvelous, but they’re not all that much like him. For one thing, they make him look much taller than he is.”

“Is he a dwarf?”

They had both had enough to drink for this to strike them as very funny, and they laughed extravagantly. Walter was grateful for anything to lighten his mood. At least Mark had been brought into the picture, and very skillfully, he thought. He couldn’t see why he shouldn’t start coming into the office at the beginning of the week. There was no need to wait. Clara would be delighted with him. He would soon become a fixture at Tenth Street. He must remember to tell Mark that he’d been living around the corner for months.

They finished their third bottle of wine and fell into bed, neither of them in a mood for love. Walter woke up during the night and reached out for Mark. He heard Clara grunt and rolled away from her. He wanted to get up and steal out and run around the corner. He could say he’d been restless and needed a walk to put him to sleep. It was maddening knowing Mark was so near and not being with him. He let himself cautiously out of bed and found his dressing gown in the dark and went to the other room and switched on a light. Three o’clock. If he went to him, he would have to tell him what had happened, and this was hardly the time for the discussion they would have to have.

He sat and stared at his feet. He felt Mark’s lips on them. He could see his body sprawled out asleep, his dark hair in disarray on the pillow. He ached to hold him. He was completely in Mark’s power, and he knew he should fight it. Had it been like this with Clara at the beginning? He remembered the time he and David had packed her off to New York and he had spent two nights with Fay. He had missed her perhaps, but not in this crushing way. He had to get himself under control once more, learn how to direct it so that his joy was intensified when they were together but he could remain at peace when they were apart. He equated his vulnerability with weakness. Human experience was the poetry of the world. People individually were fascinating toys. He liked–
loved
–Mark, but he would soon get bored with him if he allowed him to take up too much of his life.

He dismissed all thought of going to him now. He might as well go back to bed. He didn’t move. Let Clara get used to not finding him beside her. There might be nights when he would go out. She would have to accept the fact that he had turned into a night person, given to walking the streets in the early hours. He dozed, seeing Mark’s body in every conceivable position, basking in the sweetness of his smile, hearing his charming voice declaring his love. He went back to bed eventually but was up early, bathed and dressed and ready to go. He told Clara that he’d had a restless night and wanted to walk at least part of the way to the office to clear his head.

He hurried around the corner and noiselessly inserted his key in Mark’s door and opened it cautiously. Mark was standing a few feet from him, smiling at him. They burst out laughing as Walter closed the door behind him. Mark looked as if he had just stepped out of the shower, combed and immaculate, naked except for shorts. They stepped to each other and kissed. Walter ran his hands over cool skin.

“Perfect timing, darling,” Mark said. “I don’t have to get dressed after all. It almost killed me to find your note last night. Is anything the matter?”

“Plenty, but not with us. Do you have some time, or shall I just tell you later?”

Mark looked him in the eye and nodded. “Bad, huh? I guess we better have it.” He moved to the bed and picked up his dressing gown and put it on. They sat beside each other at the table. Walter told him about Clara’s money problems.

“I’m not going to be able to take you to Europe after all,” he ended painfully.

Mark’s evenly balanced features were not constructed for the expression of petty emotions. They grew a trifle more grave, but he did not look downcast or reproachful. “No. To tell the truth, I couldn’t quite believe in it. I expected Clara to make objections. We’ll survive for a month, I guess. In a way it’ll be easier knowing you’re not here than hoping for you all the time. Missing you last night was bad. Besides, it was getting awfully close to my being a kept boy. You’re the only person I’ve ever known I’d let keep me, but only in dire circumstances. I wouldn’t like it. I suppose this means the big apartment is out.”