Butterflies in Heat (14 page)

But what about him? Where could he go?

Just yesterday he was worried about his next meal. Today, with everything provided, he was feeling trapped.
It
was just plain crazy, he guessed.

Only thing is, something
had
to happen before the day was over. Something to make him feel alive.

At the beach, the sun was burning into Numie's skin.
It
was one of the hottest days of the year.

He was just lying there, getting redder and redder. For some reason he couldn't leave—although he knew he'd pay later with a burn.

A group of college age men and women on the beach were strangely disturbing. Their pastimes were harmless enough: playing volleyball, occasionally running to jump into the ocean.

Then, he knew what it was. Their bodies, so young and lithe. Bodies that life was yet to mar. He was resenting their bodies, knowing full well how ridiculous that was. Yet he couldn't help it, couldn't shake the feeling of having lost something.

Running his hand down his own frame, he became aware—almost for the first
time—of
a slight pudge developing around his middle. Compared to those kids, his body was old.

Countless johns and an endless string of horny women had sung his body's praise. He'd gotten his kicks seeing how his body turned people on. The thrill far outweighed any pleasure he received from a final discharge. A climax with a john was a duty, something expected. Depending on the fee, he could make that discharge passionate and powerful, or else lethargic or totally faked.

The praise of his body, so lavish
and constant, seemed without end. Surely like a diamond, his body would only increase in value to satisfy and delight as yet unseen faces and orifices.

Was he finished as a hustler? The sun burned the question into his brain. Was that what was keeping him up at night?

A girl turned and looked in his direction.

He closed his eyes, feigning sleep. That girl, that damn girl! Was she still looking? Before, he'd assumed that anyone looking was doing so out of admiration. Never for any other reason. Now he was filled with doubts. Was she noticing the paunch? No more of Lola's southern cooking, the goddamn fatback. And the drink. What about that? Getting drunk every night didn't assure lasting good looks.

Without looking at the girl, he got up quickly and headed down the beach toward the shower stalls.

Inside the old cabins, the smell of urine was everywhere. A row of doorless toilets faced a string of open showers. Three of the stools were occupied.

Numie didn't have to look into the faces of the hungry perchers. Those blank staring faces he'd encountered in every town he'd been in. They were sex watchers, eternally waiting for a show. He'd never bothered with them before. After all, they rarely had money, or rarely spent it
if
they did. He sought out johns with more bread ... and a little more style. When approached by these sex watchers, he'd tum them away, usually with a curse.

Today their very presence was stimulating. In the past, he'd deliberately concealed himself from their voracious eyes. But this would be different. He wanted them to see his body.
All
of it.

Bulky bodies, human smells, devouring mouths, sweat-soaked busy hands—it'd been too much for Numie. He'd started to feel the walls closing in.

From the grope pile inside the bathhouse, he'd rushed out into the sun again. There he took a stqol at a luncheon counter and ordered a beer.

Sexual tribute from the men was what he'd been seeking. And he'd aroused the lust hunger in their eyes. But Numie's ego satisfaction was short lived. The desperate men had left him feeling empty—worse than before. More sex tension than he could handle, even after a marathon session.

Those men would never be fulfilled, not in a lifetime of looking and searching. Would he be like them one day? Always searching, never finding.

Was he like that now?

At the edge of the beach a red sports car pulled up.
It
was familiar. Ralph got out.

As Ralph made his way toward the bathhouse, Numie thought he looked older somehow. The other day he was twenty-eight. Now he looked more like thirty-four. But he was still young, still slim, still attractive. There was a certain effeminacy about him, though. A diffidence. His black hair was fine and wavy, with a tendency to early baldness. His full mouth was pouty, too lush somehow to be flattering to a man. Those ever-searching eyes were his best feature. Not only wide, but opening onto thick, long lashes.

"Ralph," Numie called.

At the sound of his name, Ralph nervously jerked his neck in Numie's direction. His face was guilt ridden. "Numie, good to see you."

"You don't look glad to see me at all," Numie replied. 'C'mon, join me for a beer."

"Work keeps me pretty busy, but I needed some sun."

"There you go trying to explain things again. I told you once before, you don't have to."

"What do you mean?"

"I know why guys go to that bathroom. I was just in there myself. It's one great big suction pump."

"Oh, I was just going to change into my suit."

"You know, I don't understand the secrecy. Everybody in this town knows everything that's happening anyway."

"I'm married," Ralph said flatly.

"Get off it, man, Anne knows about you."

"Anne.
You know my wife?"

"Yes, that queen I had to meet the other day. That was Leonora. I met Leonora and Anne the night before at the bar, the same night i met you."

"So you were the guy at Sacre-Coeur? I knew somebody was there. But
you.
Dammit, I told you this town is too small. You didn't say anything."

"The gold watch gave me away to Anne," Numie answered. "It was stupid of me to wear it."

"Of course, Anne knows. That's not why I'm always hiding. That was just an easy answer to. a difficult question. I don't want to talk here. Let's walk down the beach."

The young people were still playing volleyball. Ralph gave each of the men a quick appraisal, then walked on.

"Nothing misses you," Numie said.

"Okay, you and I will drop any pretenses. I check out every basket."

"But what are you afraid of? Seems to me you've got it made in this town. The sheriff isn't going to cause any trouble. That's for damn sure."

"You're right. He takes his orders from Leonora. From Commodore Philip even more."

The sun was high in the sky now, as Numie neared a deserted part of the beach.

Still drinking from his beer can, Ralph came up beside him. "I don't know why I'm always sneaking about. Everybody does know about me. Who am I kidding?"

"Maybe you're hiding from yourself."

"In one way you're right. Sex is still a dirty business to me. I've always wanted to be straight. Better yet, to have other people think I am. I'll go to extremes to convince them."

"Even marriage."

"Yes, that. Though my marriage to Anne was more complicated than that."

"Just why did you marry her?"

"It
was an arrangement that suited everybody's purpose—my own, Anne's, and most especially Leonora's."

"How did Leonora get in on the act?"

"She'd known my father at one time. In fact, my father once got
it
on with Leonora. She went both ways in those days. When I came to New York, I looked her up. I'd written a play, and I was hoping to get her to back
it."

"Anne told me the story."

"My version and Anne's version are quite different." Ralph's voice had a slight whine to
it.

"In what way?"

"Mine's the truth."

"I see." For some reason, he resented Ralph suggesting Anne was a liar. He felt defensive of her in some way. "I could see why
I'd
meet up with Leonora, but I don't understand you. You've got brains, good looks, and you've got that upper middle-class look to you. I can't believe you were some under-privileged writer that Leonora had to take in."

"I wasn't. I'd come from model parents from a model suburb. The trees were vinyl, the grass artificial. You never saw garbage on the street. I knew little about life when I first met Leonora. Sure, I'd dabbled at a lot of things, but I'd never really been into anything. That's why my play was so shallow."

"A virgin?" Numie's eyes were teasing.

Ralph hesitated, not sure of Numie's reason for asking. "No, I'd had a few encounters—usually with hustlers like you in strange cities."

"Thanks."

"I didn't mean it that way." He leaned back on a slat wood bench, looking out at the sea. 'There I was, considered the most desirable bachelor in my hometown, out paying rough trade for the dubious privilege of going down on their smelly crotches. Bums I wouldn't even allow in my home. His mouth restricted into bitterness. "After one of those sessions, I'd come back home, go to my room, and sulk for days."

"Your parents must have wondered."

"They just let me be. They were too busy leading their own lives to care about me. None of us ever had anything to say to each other."

Numie couldn't help but resent Ralph. How he used to want the advantages of middle-class security for himself. But to hear Ralph tell it, that wouldn't bring you happiness. Still, it sure beat hustling for a buck in the winter's cold.

Ralph lit a cigarette, crushed it out, then quickly lit another one. He wasn't exactly confiding in Numie as much as he was reliving an experience and working something out. More than that, he was taking the age-old opportunity of telling a relative stranger something he would not reveal to a friend.

Numie liked hearing these intimacies from Ralph.
It
made
him feel less guilty about opening up and talking about Marty and the ebony blackbird that day on the island. A fair exchange, in other words. "What was your daddy into?" Numie asked, hoping Ralph would continue to talk freely.

"He was president of a company, making $85,000 a year. But one day our world caved in. He was fired just like a common ditch-digger. Not only fired, but charged with embezzlement. He hadn't saved a penny either and was very much in debt."

"How did your mama take to that?"

"A real loyal wife. She filed charges for divorce. That left father with me. I, too, was loyal. I split for New York the next day."

"What happened to him?"

"He was convicted and sent to jail. By then, I'd found a new mother in Leonora."

"Leonora doesn't strike me as anybody's mother."

"She was the most exciting woman I'd ever met."

"Still is, as far as I'm concerned," Numie said.

"I agree," Ralph said. "The more outrageous she is, the more I love it. Being gay has something to do with it.
If
I were straight, I'd probably have nothing to do with her. She's grotesque, really. But I love to be with her. We spend most of our evenings together. When I get up to leave, she says, 'Going cruising, darling?' She completely accepts me. Always did—right from the first."

"I wish she had me."

"She will," Ralph answered impatiently. Suddenly, he got up and started walking down the beach.

Numie wasn't sure whether he was supposed to follow or not. Pretty soon he fell into step with Ralph.

Leaving the beach, Ralph turned down a narrow street of unpainted houses. Exiles from Havana lounged in the narrow doorways, as children played on the porches. In one, a used tire had been crudely converted into a veranda swing.

"Real machismo, this place." Numie said. "Not like what I'm used to at all."

"I feel the same way," Ralph said, as if aware of him again. "I miss the sophistication of New York. Leonora embodied New York sophistication for me. I never thought that being with her I'd end up here."

A cool breeze was blowing. Numie looked up at a widow's walk, a platform where the wives of fishermen sixty years ago maintained a lonely vigil for husbands who would never return from the sea.