The Good Life by Gordon Merrick Read Free Book Online Page B

I’ll try something more ambitious another time. Sit there if you’re comfortable. The light’s good enough for what I want. You don’t have to pose.”
    He opened the glasses case and put on a pince-nez like the ones Roosevelt used. He stood in front of the folder of drawing paper and worked quickly with a soft pencil while he continued to sip his drink. His attentive eyes darted disconcertingly over Perry’s face.
    The face wasn’t a beautiful one in the conventional sense. It was far too strong to be pretty. The odd angles of his high cheekbones and the prominent bridge of his nose gave his face an angular asymmetry that pleased rather than stunned. His eyes were the center of his face — the humor in them glittering — surrounded by luxurious lashes, not long but furry, giving his eyes a depth that was further accentuated by his thick, straight brows. His hair was a straight, nondescript brown that clung to his head like the fur of a slick animal — not spiky like straight hair can be — with a beguiling tuft that fell over his wide forehead. The overall effect was one of manly strength and health, his mouth and straight teeth completing the picture of good, solid American stock.
    Perry had never had his picture drawn before; he felt as if Billy were ferreting out all his secrets.
    â€œAre you an American?” Perry asked.
    â€œVery much so. For several generations.”
    â€œI thought you had a slight accent at first.”
    â€œSpeaking French a great deal and mixing with Britishers, you pick up little speech habits without even knowing it. I hope I don’t sound affected.”
    â€œNo. It’s just different. I like it.”
    â€œI’m glad of that. The family started out in Milwaukee, in fact. German stock. One of those impossible Germanic names and Jewish to boot. My grandfather very sensibly simplified it. You’ve heard of Mt. Vernon stores, the food chain? That’s the family business.”
    â€œReally? We have those on the West Coast.”
    â€œThey’re everywhere. My grandfather was a very shrewd businessman. He put his fortune into a family trust. I don’t know how many millions it is by now. My father’s dead. My mother inherited. She remarried and lives up on Park Avenue with my stepfather. Everything will come to me in due course, but she allows me to take a reasonable share now. That’s why I can live in France.”
    â€œYou like it?”
    â€œIt was very gay in the ’20s. One knew everybody. The Depression put an end to a lot of the fun, but I think it will come back if there isn’t a war.”
    For a moment the silence was broken only by the sound of pencil on paper. Perry was confronted with big money at last. He was going to have to move fast if he expected to get his foot in the door. Billy’s plans to go back to Europe were discouraging.
    â€œCan I see what you’ve done?”
    â€œOf course. They’re only rough sketches, but I think I’m getting it. I’ll never be a great artist, but I’ve been to schools here and in France, and I’ve developed a certain professional competence. Have a look.”
    Perry rose and stood beside him in front of the easel. Billy took off his pince-nez and put his arm around Perry’s waist. Perry relaxed into the embrace. There was something precise and slightly fussy about the older man’s manner that made Perry doubt that he’d let his life be seriously disrupted by a stray new guy, but enough might happen between them so that he’d remember him on his next visit.
    Perry turned over the drawings. Sketchy though they were, he could see his likeness in them. He looked like quite a dish.
    â€œThey’re very flattering,” he said.
    â€œThey’re not, I promise you. You’re too modest.”
    Billy’s hand moved up along Perry’s side to his chest. Perry’s cock responded. Billy was no