Floridian nights, p.37
Floridian Nights, page 37
“Of course. We were talking tennis.”
“So who’s your favorite?”
“Player, you mean? I guess…Chris Evert.”
Terry laughed, with a hint of disdain. “I meant a man.”
“Oh. Uh, well, it’s been a while, but you’re probably old enough to remember this guy.” (Gary relished being able to say that.) “I always thought Roscoe Tanner had an ass that wouldn’t quit.”
Terry seemed momentarily thrown off. Though he’d emphasized male players, evidently he hadn’t been rating his favorites in terms of sexy anatomy. But he gamely joined in: “Connors, too. And have you checked out Boris Becker?”
“He is an exciting player–”
“No, I mean Boris Becker’s butt.”
“Huh? No. That’s strange when you think about it. You think I’d be partial to a player named Becker, wouldn’t you? And with the initials BB, too.”
Terry looked almost puzzled, but he said, “Right.” There was a pause, then he looked at his Rolex. “This has been really nice, Gary. I’ve gotta go soon.”
“Got another appointment?”
“Yeah. A tennis match. Then some friends from Chicago.”
Go for broke, GG. “Will we see each other again?”
“It was only three stitches, Gary. You’re healing fine. They should come out in a day or two.”
Gary couldn’t stop himself. “How long will you be here?”
“Me? I’m here for the whole week.”
“I was supposed to leave tomorrow, but I guess I could stay a day or two more–”
“Gary, any competent doctor can take out those stitches.”
“I’d rather you did it, Terry.”
“That’s silly.”
“Why?”
“There’s no medical reason why–”
“There are reasons other than medical.”
“Oh. Oh.” Though he did not seem to be someone who would ever be deliberately unkind, Terry began to laugh. “We don’t have some kind of misunderstanding here, do we?”
“Uhh–”
“For a minute there, I thought you were coming on to me.”
Terry knew very well that Gary had been coming on to him. He was trying, Gary realized, to give him a graceful exit. Gary couldn’t let it go. “Actually, I was–”
“I hope you weren’t. I don’t go for older guys. Not at all.”
Gary retreated even as he sat bewildered that six years’ difference put him in “older guy” territory. “No. No, you’re right, of course. Just a misunderstanding.”
“Anyway,” Terry continued with forced, excessive joviality, “if you want a little free advice, I think you’re still hung up on Becker.”
“Well, of course I am–”
“No, but I mean really. Really. It’s something that’s gonna get in the way for anybody else. Nobody would have the patience to live with that. The ghost of the perfect lover. Mmm.” With terrific earnestness, Terry added, “I hope that doesn’t offend you. I say it as – a friend.”
“Oh, no. No. I appreciate it.”
“Good. ’cause I really did have a nice time this afternoon, Gary. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Think nothing of it.”
They shook hands, and Terry said as he walked away, “Take care of that forehead.”
“I will. You bet.” Needlessly, Gary added, for whose benefit he didn’t know, “I’m just gonna stay here a little longer. You go on ahead.”
•
He did, indeed, linger at the scene of the disaster for a while, ordering another drink for himself and numbly watching the passing scene. Finally, near sunset, with the crowd beginning to gather in Mallory Square, he headed for home.
The same young woman was at the desk, which was a relief; Allie in particular knew of his designs on Terry. No questions asked from this one. But he also felt a perverse need to talk about it. First, though, he wanted to take refuge in his room.
When he opened the door, he decided he was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Rick’s stuff was there. He couldn’t rightly say if all of it was exactly where it had been last night, but the clothes and the bag were definitely there. Had he hallucinated their absence? There was no sign of Rick himself; but of course, he had just seen Rick with David.
Worried that he was truly losing his mind, Gary hurried back down the stairs. “Excuse me,” he said yet again to the young woman, “I’m sorry; I didn’t get your name–”
“Rita.”
“–Rita. Is everyone out back?”
“Allie’s out back. Ken’s lying down. Everyone else went to see the sunset.”
He headed out the back door. Allie’s tubby form was parked in a wood-slatted chaise-longue by the pool. It seemed that, by comparison to the usual cocktail hour, he sat in lonely splendor. But on closer inspection, he looked more content than lonely.
“Hi, Allie.”
“Gary! How nice of you to join me!” Allie started to bestir himself.
“Don’t worry,” Gary said. “I’ll get my own.” As he checked the cooler by the door, he asked, “What’s up with Ken?”
“Ken’s got a bad headache, that’s all. I could have gone with the kids to the dock, but I don’t like leaving him alone in the house when he’s feeling bad, you know. It’s not that he wants me there in the room with him; he doesn’t. But I feel better if I stay here. I guess maybe it’s part of getting old, or being together too long. What do you think?”
“Separation anxiety,” Gary replied, sitting down next to Allie. “I can certainly relate to that.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Which kids went to see the sunset?”
“Oh, you know, Keith, Wes, Lynn, Rick–”
“You saw Rick?” Gary cut in emphatically.
“Well–”
“Did you or did you not see him?”
“What’s the third degree, Gary? I thought I saw him with them–”
“Did you see him take stuff out of our room this afternoon?”
Allie looked aghast. “Omigod, we were right, weren’t we? He really is stealing stuff from you. Already.”
“No! Rick is honest as the day is long. I just – never mind.”
“They’re probably still down at the dock, if you wanna go check.”
It was a rational suggestion, but Gary was feeling none too rational. “No. No, I’ve seen the sunset in Key West. I’ll stay here with you.”
Allie smiled beatifically, then launched into the very small talk that Gary did and did not wish to avoid: “So how was your date with Clara Barton?”
“He’s cuter than Clara Barton.” Gary took a beat and looked directly at Allie. “But he’s not interested in ‘older men.’ ”
“The older you get, the more you find that,” Allie said sadly, seemingly to himself. Then, rebounding, he added, “But I’m sorry. I know you were really looking forward–”
“We had a nice drink together. That’s all. That’s fine.”
“I thought you had brunch with him.”
“No, I had brunch with Keiko and Tony.” A thought struck him. “By the way, are they with the sunset group?”
“Not that I know of. I haven’t seen them.”
“Have they been around this afternoon?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“Good,” Gary concluded. “I need your advice.”
“On what?”
“They’re offering me a job.”
A big smile split Allie’s face. “But that’s wonderful!”
“Well, maybe.”
“You need a job. And they’re such nice people.”
“They’re also flakes. And they’re looking for a dull, conservative faggot to help – you should pardon the expression – straighten out their business.”
Allie laughed appreciatively. “But then you’re perfect.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Well, you’ve gotta do something,” Allie reiterated. “Why not try it?”
“They’re offering me less money than I made before.”
“A lot less?”
“No. But I’ll bet the benefits aren’t as good, either.”
“So, a little less money, that wouldn’t stop me.”
“There’s also the, uh, problem of Tony coming on to me all the time. I mean, actually, I like him – actually, I find him attractive, though he’s definitely not my usual type. But in a business relationship–”
“Bad news.”
“You betcha.”
“Talk to Keiko about it.”
“I don’t wanna hurt her. I like her.”
“She’s one tough lady. Don’t worry about her. She knows about Tony’s idle doings. If it’s really getting in the way, tell her.”
“I’m also afraid their business is such a basket case, it’s already too late.” He described his proposal to Tony to Allie, who nodded approvingly and simply said,
“You’re so smart, GG. But we knew that.”
Gary and Allie kept on talking until nightfall. When Gary got up to go, Allie rose, too, saying, “You still leaving first thing in the morning?”
“God knows. One way or another, I guess Rick and I have to iron things out by tomorrow. We can’t drive all the way back to Tampa hating each other.”
Allie looked surprised. “You feel like you hate him?”
“No,” Gary admitted.
“I sure don’t think he hates you.”
“I know he doesn’t. But he’s too young, Allie. Just too damn young.”
Allie seemed about to debate this, but instead he said, “Well, let me know if we need to get up early to fix your breakfast.”
“That’s above and beyond the call.”
“We don’t mind. Especially for you.”
“Even without BB?”
“Don’t be silly, Gary.”
Seized with unexpected emotion, Gary put an arm around Allie and said, “You’re terrific, Allie. You and Ken both.”
“We’re kinda fond of you too, Gary. With and without Becker. Don’t wait three years to come back.”
When he got back to his room, it remained quiet and empty. He wondered where Rick and David were having dinner.
He could have sought out company, but it suited Gary’s mood to have dinner alone his last night in Key West. There was a restaurant where he and Becker had gone frequently, a place they’d discovered in Key West which had later opened a New York branch. The latter restaurant thrived, conveying island ambience to frazzled metropolitans, but the original place had long since changed hands. Still, the same outdoor tables were there, in the same space where he and BB had often loitered.
It was a warm, clear night, warmer than the previous evening. His waiter, a Bahamian boy judging by his look and the lilt of his speech, was cute and friendly, but Gary had had his fill of the old fantasy of picking up the waiter – a lifetime’s worth. Never again.
The people around him and passing by on the walk seemed to be in unusually good spirits, no doubt celebrating frenetically before they (mostly) headed back north tomorrow, at the end of the holiday weekend. But all he could do was think sadly of Becker. Where are you now, BB, he caught himself thinking. Gary had never been one much for religion, but tonight it was tempting to think that Georgia Peach was still in existence somewhere, in some parallel dimension.
When he could stand it no longer, he requested his check. The smiling waiter handed it to him with an “Everything all right, sir?”; he responded with an affirmation that they both knew to be untrue. Depressed, he plodded back to the guest house sometime between nine and ten.
25.
He could see the light was on in the room even before he opened the door. He hoped against hope that the kid was maybe asleep. But no, there Rick was, sitting on the bed in t-shirt and jeans, looking strangely tired.
“Hi, Gary,” he said in a low voice as Gary closed the door behind him.
“Hello,” Gary replied coldly.
“Can we talk?”
“I think we’d better.”
There was a wicker chair in one corner, somewhat in shadow, and Gary opted to sit there. For the better part of a minute, they sat apart in silence, until Gary broke it. “Look, kid, this trip was at least as much my idea as yours. I know you don’t have the money to make it back on your own, so can we just call a truce? I feel a responsibility to get you back to Tampa–”
“Is that the only responsibility you feel towards me?” Rick asked in a dull tone of voice.
“Look, Rick, it’s been nice, but it hasn’t worked, so–”
“Why?”
“Why?” Gary had wanted to stay calm, but he was finding it impossible. “Why? You stay out all night with your new boyfriend – after singing love songs to each other in public, in front of me – and you want to know why?”
He expected Rick to rise to the occasion with equal anger, but the kid’s tone remained almost lifeless. “Is that where you think I spent the night last night?”
“How can you be so naive as to think I’d think otherwise?”
“I know what you were thinking, Gary. I knew it as soon as you left the bar. But I wanted to hear it from you.”
“Well, now you have. What else should I think, after your duet of ‘Secret Lovers’?–”
“I did that for you.”
“Oh, right! Bullshit! How stupid do you think I am?”
“I dunno, Gare.”
Then Rick simply stopped talking. Gary let the silence hang there until he couldn’t take any more. “What are you trying to tell me here, Rick? I know you’re an honest kid, so why don’t you just say it plain: did you or did you not spend the night with David?”
Rick answered in the same low voice, not looking at him, “I spent the morning at David’s. This morning.”
“Ah-huh!” With malice, Gary said, “Made a late night of it, did we?”
“Yes and no,” Rick said with a heavy weariness. “We left the bar about one. David went home.”
Despite himself, Gary was beginning to feel alarmed at the utter leadenness of the kid’s tone. “You’re saying you didn’t go home with him, then?”
“That’s right. Not then.”
“Well, where did you go? You sure didn’t come here.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“So?”
“I walked.”
“What do you mean, you walked?”
Rick shrugged and repeated, “I walked. Around Key West.”
“At one in the morning?”
“ ’til almost dawn.”
Gary was disinclined to believe such a scenario, but he reminded himself that Rick wasn’t a liar. “Why?” he finally asked.
“I couldn’t deal with you. I was mad at you, and I was afraid–”
“Were you ashamed?”
“What did I have to be ashamed of?”
“Right. I forgot. You and David sang ‘Secret Lovers’ for my sake.”
At last Rick turned to look at him. “I’d been thinking about it all the time since Miami Beach. You were right. I can’t just ignore it. Then I sang that duet with Allison, and you said…what you said.” He looked away from Gary again. “I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted to sing something that was out-there gay–”
“So you did a duet with David?”
“Well, you weren’t singing!” Briefly a little life flared in Rick’s voice, but it quickly died again. “I should have realized you’d read it wrong. It’s all my fault.”
Gary was uneasy, but he retained his anger, so he challenged Rick directly. “Are you really gonna sit there and tell me you aren’t attracted to David?”
Stricken, Rick looked back in his direction. “No, I’m not. But so what? You’re attracted to him, too. And Terry. Being attracted to someone isn’t loving them.”
“Oh really?” Gary retorted sarcastically.
At that, Rick came to life and showed some of his old moxie. “Why are you so insecure? What do I have to do to convince you that I wanna be with you? Why don’t you believe me when I say I love you? Does this mean I have to live under a glass jar or something, that I can’t have any friends my own age?–”
“You can have all the friends you want. Any age. ’cause we’re through.”
“Why?” Rick asked in high anger, but as soon as the question was out, he seemed to deflate.
“The times are risky, and we’re not well-matched. It just hasn’t worked. You say you walked all night? All right, I’ll take your word on that, though it’s a preposterous story. You still admit you went to David’s this morning, not here, when you were finally finished with your little walk. And then you came in here while I was out and took away your stuff, and then, I don’t know why, you brought it back – and you were still with David; I saw you–”
“Where was I gonna go? What was I gonna do?” Rick asked in a voice halfway between a pathetic wail and an angry shout. “It rained this morning before dawn, Gary! – did you know that? I got soaking wet. And the only person in town I knew, who wasn’t staying at this place, was David–”
“Why avoid the guest house?”
“To avoid you, of course.”
“But you claim you had nothing to be ashamed of. So why avoid me?”
“Because I was still pissed at you. I knew exactly what you thought was going on. I knew you didn’t trust me–”
“Lower your voice!”
“I will not! I want you to understand what happened to me, because of you. I walked around Key West all night–”
“It’s not that big a town.”
“Shut up! Don’t you think I know that? – and I got soaking wet, so I went to the only person I knew besides you and the people here, and I woke him up at six in the morning–”
“How did you know where he was staying?”
“He told me.”
“Uh-huh. Room number and all?”
“Yes! He was worried about me. He knew I was pissed at you, but he knew I was racked, too–”
“So you showed up at six a.m.? He must have been thrilled to see you.”
“Not really. But he said I looked like a drowned rat, and he made me take off my wet clothes–”
“Oh. Oh! He made you take your clothes off?–”
