Perfect Freedom (37 page)

Money would have more significance for Robbie than for him. When his school ended next year, he wouldn't have to worry about a job but could devote himself to his painting. Stuart hadn't been convinced that the boy had the discipline and strength of character for an artist's life but he was rapidly revising his opinion. The talent was there; money would free him to make the most of it.

When Angelino and Rico had finished careening around the deck adjusting lines and making everything shipshape, Stuart turned over the wheel to the captain. It was agreed that he and Robbie would each take a regular four-hour watch during the day; the remaining sixteen hours would be divided among the professionals. There was nothing more to discuss until they reached their destination a thousand miles across the sea.

Stuart followed Helene below. Robbie lingered while Rico streamed the log from the stern, taken rather by surprise to realize that the sailor was once more a potential lover. He hadn't given the boy an erotic thought in a month. Would they pick up where they'd left off? If Rico wanted to, he had no reason to object. Carl didn't really want him to be his boy. He had yet to feel needed in a way that would match the enormous need in himself. It was his turn to use Rico as a convenience.

The sailor dropped into the cockpit beside the helm and said a few words to Angelino and teetered across to Robbie and fell into the seat beside him with an arm around him. “We go now, Robbie,” he said against his face.

Rico was taking charge of him more openly than before. So be it. If he wanted to play homosexual games, Robbie would teach him to play them more expertly. He found his friend's hard cock and squeezed it and they made a dive for the companionway and tumbled down it. They swayed to the movement of the boat and held each other as they made their way forward to Robbie's cabin. He knew there were no witnesses but the fact that there could be made it a special event; he was going to sleep openly with a lover on home territory.

They stripped hastily and made a rush for the stability of the bunk. As soon as they were in each other's arms, Robbie asserted himself. He forestalled Rico's usual immediate move to take him by performing some sophisticated tricks with his mouth. To his surprise, his partner seemed willing to indulge Robbie's taste for more leisurely lovemaking. Perhaps Rico felt the difference in him and found him more desirable now that he was experienced in offering and taking pleasure. They looked at each other and laughed softly to welcome each other back. Their mouths met and Robbie turned it into their first real kiss. Rico responded eagerly but suddenly broke it off with a little exclamation of displeasure.

“Men don't kiss, Robbie,” he admonished him.

“Why not? With your eyes closed you wouldn't know my mouth isn't a girl's. Stop thinking of me as a man. I'm queer. What you said.
Comme ça
. You know that. I wasn't sure before but I know now. If you want to fuck me then do it as if I were a girl. You'll like it more if you stop worrying about my being a boy.”

Rico laughed. “You got one plenty big cock for a girl,” he said, stroking it.

“It's about time you paid attention to that.”

“I get used to it. Boys at home, we play with cocks. I like when it get so big for me. I want you plenty sometimes last two, three weeks. Not many girls there. I sleep with you regular this trip. Hokay?”

“Fine. Will Angelino know?”

“Sure. He gotta know where I am. He know I fuck you.”

“He doesn't think there's anything wrong with it?”

“Why wrong? We got no girl. You let that German fella, that Carlo, you let him fuck you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, abandoning discretion for the pleasure of speaking openly.

“Sure. He got something you like, I bet. Bigger than Rico. You got one beautiful mouth. That's sure.”

“Then kiss me. I'm about to come. You're playing with my cock as if you liked it.”

“Sure. I don't mind.” He ran his tongue over Robbie's lips and his hand became more purposeful. Robbie opened his mouth to his and their kiss brought them in against each other, writhing with desire.

Rico proved less inhibited than Robbie would have believed possible a few weeks ago, but he understood now the difference between homosexuals and boys who didn't mind having sex together under certain circumstances. The latter had their limits but the fact that they existed made the world seem less hostile.

The world impinged very little on any of them in the nights and days that followed. They were caught up once more in the rhythm of the sea. They ate when they were hungry, slept when they were sleepy, and got gloriously, drunkenly exhausted keeping the boat going. Stuart was vaguely aware that the two boys had worked out some sort of arrangement for sharing Robbie's cabin and it didn't surprise him. Boys liked to stake out their territory like young animals. Helene spent a lot of time in her bunk reading, a superfluous element in a man's world. She was looking forward to home and finding their niche in an environment where they were still almost total strangers. When Carl arrived, she hoped to greet him as a serene and successful hostess, impregnably established in her own beautiful house.

Their progress was marked by geographical phenomena. Everything on the charts turned up miraculously where it belonged. This was Sardinia. That was Corsica. In another day or two it would be St. Tropez. By then, their destination was just another point on the charts. Their reality was the boat and the vagaries of the weather, the daily chores and, for Robbie, the pleasures awaiting him in his bunk. They had already sighted the high dim coast of France on the horizon when Rico joined him in the cabin late one afternoon. He was lying down naked, waiting for him.

“We get there, Robbie.” He took his clothes off and stretched out on the bunk. “Tomorrow, this time, we no see each other.”

“Don't talk about it. I can't believe it.” Robbie kissed him and felt a lump gathering in his throat. His first boy. He was bound to have a special feeling for him, particularly after these last days and nights when they had arrived at something close to a sexual balance. The sailor drew back with a loving smile.

“Is crazy. I want you sometimes like I want girls. Like just for you. For Robbie. Is no wrong, I think. Just crazy.”

“I certainly thought it was wrong at first.
Chope et fume
. Remember? I couldn't believe I wanted to do those things. I learned pretty fast, didn't I?”

“Sure. Now you get plenty handsome guys but you remember Rico. Hokay?”

“Always, Rico. Take me so I can't forget.”

The next morning passed in a daze of arrival for the Coslings. They couldn't believe that they were really in St. Tropez and that the place looked so exactly the way they had left it. This was home and they had made it. There was the big new hotel planted in Stuart's vineyard. A trick of the landscape suddenly revealed their house sprawled against its hillside, a mirage, a stranger's fantasy. It disappeared from view like a dream behind another outcropping of land. They were getting in close to shore. They passed the little fisherman's port and Stuart's eyes lingered on the handsome house that had once been called
la batellerie
. The close-knit world that had held them and isolated them for a small infinity of time was rapidly disintegrating. They were once more land-based, shaking themselves free from an alien element.

The sails rattled down with finality and they motored into the crowded harbor and found a berth not far from the admiral's yacht. Helene and Stuart were glad to see that it was still there. The midday
apéritif
hour was underway and strollers loitered to watch as they eased in to the quai and made fast. Robbie became aware that a good many eyes were focused on him. He saw two gaudily dressed effeminate young men exchanging remarks while they looked him over. They laughed and gestured to him to join them. Robbie looked hastily away, faced with an unexpected challenge. He was going to have to learn how to behave without giving himself away when surrounded by his own kind. If young men made advances to him, wouldn't his parents begin to suspect that it was because they recognized his susceptibility? He wasn't threatened by hostility but by a too overt acceptance of what he was. He moved restlessly toward the bow to get away from inviting eyes. He'd forgotten how obvious certain types were or perhaps they'd become obvious only now that he knew that he was one of them. He wished he were back in Greece where a manly young boatman could want him without its being considered remarkable.

Helene was the first to spot the admiral. She waved as she saw him, conspicuous in a saffron shirt and royal blue scarf, making his way through the crowd to the foot of their gangplank.

“We're waiting for you,” he called expansively. “Come along and have some lunch. All sorts of people wanting to meet you.” He came aboard and Robbie returned to the cockpit to be introduced.

“Have a son about your age. Not so good-looking as you by half. A bit odd but not a bad chap. Daresay you'll be wanting to tidy up.” He glanced at Robbie's trunks. “You can come as you are. Young people go about stark naked these days. Extraordinary. No hurry, you understand. Don't get around to feeding much before teatime. Can't think why. Deuced unhealthy.”

Mrs. Rawls came tripping up the gangplank after him, vibrating with patronizing goodwill and flashing with jewels.

“Now the season can really begin,” she cried. “I've only just arrived myself. You don't mean to say you've been all the way to Greece on this adorable little boat! How mad and adventurous! You're still children—beautiful, beautiful children! You must come for a cocktail tomorrow. There are so many people I want you to meet. I've taken a villa. La Pléiade. You know it? And your enchanting place? I understand it's quite the most beautiful house on the coast.”

“I should call home and tell them we're here,” Stuart said when she was gone. “Everybody else knows.”

“What are we going to do about the statue?” Robbie wondered.

“Speak of the devil.” Stuart nodded toward the gangplank. The customs inspector was standing at the foot of it. Stuart expected no difficulties but he was pleasantly surprised by the man's complete lack of official zeal when he went to greet him.

“I suppose you're loaded with contraband,” he said.

“Of course, we almost sank,” Stuart said while his heart skipped a beat.

“Well, don't let me see you taking it off. Send your man around with your papers sometime during the day and I'll fix them up.”

“Fine. Come aboard and have a contraband drink.”

“Why not, in fact?” The customs inspector came aboard and Stuart had a drink with him. They went ashore together and Stuart returned with Stanley Hilliard at his side.

“Look who I've found,” he called as they came aboard. “It's Stanley. American literature's great white hope.” Stuart's first thought when they ran into each other was that his expensive clothes looked as if they belonged to him now. He had become a man of substance.

Hilliard stepped gingerly off the gangplank onto the deck. “Is this yours? I heard you'd struck it rich but I didn't know you were
that
rich.”

“I'm not. We rented it.”

“I see. I was passing through about a week ago and they told me you'd gone to Greece or somewhere. My God, this place has sort of changed, hasn't it? It's one big goddam party. I couldn't get away. And you. I understand you've got the showplace of the whole damn Côte d'Azur. Swimming pools, marble halls, an authentic neo-colossal DeMille production. Is this Robbie? I can't believe it. What a magnificent guy you've turned into. Whatever you've been doing, it agrees with all of you.” He kissed Helene's cheek.

“How long has it been? Seven years?” Stuart asked. “What about you? You look as if you've been doing all right yourself. Where've you been?”

“Hollywood. And no cracks. It's a game and it pays the bills. It has nothing to do with writing. It's a whole new thing. When you hold your elbows right and get a good grip with your knees you can make it sit up and do tricks.”

“If you like it, what the hell?” Stuart poured drinks.

“I didn't say I liked it. What goddam fools we were in the old days—except you, of course. You and your spinach. I guess you have the right idea, after all. I thought I'd get rich doing what I wanted to do. You just wanted to lie in the lap of Mother Nature and here you are up to your ass in swimming pools.”

“What is all this about swimming pools? We don't have a swimming pool, do we Robbie? Maybe somebody put one in while we were gone.”

“They better not. It would ruin everything. Did you call home?”

“Yes. Boldoni and Felix are coming in to get our things off. Everybody sounds fine.”

“Did you arrange anything about you-know-what?”

Stuart told Hilliard about the statue. “I think we'd better wait till tonight, the later the better,” he told Robbie. “We'll need all the help we can get. How about it, Stanley? Do you want to be an accessory after the fact?”

“If you promise to have champagne and lobster sent into our cell, why not? As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you all to dinner.”

“Not tonight. I've promised Boldoni to dine at home. I'll join you after dinner and then you can come out and stay with us.”

“We can make you more comfortable than last time,” Helene said. She excused herself to dress for the admiral's lunch.

“As a matter of fact; I'm traveling with my secretary,” Hilliard said, after she had left.

“I don't think that'll worry anybody,” Stuart assured him. “We'll expect her, too.”

They agreed to meet at the boat at eleven that night and Hilliard took himself off. “He's right, you know,” Stuart said to Robbie, pouring himself more brandy. “You
are
a magnificent looking guy, Roberto. I suppose it would've happened anyway, but the cruise seems to've speeded things up. I thought you might turn out to be sort of an ethereal type but you've turned into a regular body boy overnight. You're going to be a big hit with the girls.”