Chapter 12
It was almost two weeks from the day of their lovemaking before Susan heard from Paul again.
Hurt and angry at not hearing from him, she tried to busy herself with other things, but always her thoughts returned to him. Many a time she had the receiver in her hand, was about to dial him, but had caught herself in time. She wasn't about to throw herself at him, not that way. But always his face came to her. She found him sexually fulfilling. Nobody had ever thrilled her so much. Obviously he did not feel the same toward her, or he would have called by now. Beyond the personal hurt, she was puzzled. After all, this young man was clearly searching for the way up, desperately trying to cut a niche for himself in the art world. Didn't he need her as much as she did him? She knew he was penniless, that he was having a bad time of it. He knew she had money, that she was generous. Why didn't he jump at the chance? Perhaps it was because she had not made it entirely clear what it was she could do for him. Or perhaps the thought just never entered his mind.
Then there was the problem with Rick-at least, it was a problem to her. Could Paul possibly be in love with Rick? He had always avoided her questions whenever she'd tried to find out. And Rick? Was he in love with Paul? She rather doubted it. Besides, if they were both in love with each other it did not matter to her in the least. What mattered was her own personal feelings. Somehow she had to convince Paul of her urgent desire to help him establish himself as an artist.
A thought came to her mind: Perhaps I should throw a party. Invite Paul, have him bring some of his paintings, introduce him around, get him started. She did know a few people in the art world, powerful people. They were impressed with her because she was rich. It wouldn't be difficult. Yes, that's what she would do. Rising, she walked to the telephone when the sharp ring stopped her in her tracks. Lifting the receiver, she answered:
"Yes?"
"Susan?"
"Yes."
"Paul, here."
"This is a coincidence. I was just going to call you. Your ring scared the hell out of me."
"I'm in town. Thought I'd drop by."
"Why don't you?"
"Okay. Hey, I brought a few of my paintings."
"Wonderful, dying to see them."
"Be there in fifteen minutes."
"Hurry, I'll be waiting." She hung up and quickly raced to her bedroom to change into something more flattering.
Fifteen minutes later, the maid led Paul into the den. "Hi, Susan," Paul said, walking to her.
"I shouldn't even talk to you," she told him, looking over the brim of her glass. "Why?"
"Silence for two weeks. Not very flattering for me." She turned to the maid. "Bring another scotch over the rocks for my guest."
The maid smiled, then left the room.
"You had nothing to do with it," Paul told her. "I've been painting my ass off."
"Too busy to pick up the phone?"
"Well, I was working at the studio. We don't have a phone there."
"I'd advise you to put one in immediately."
"And have the customers call San Francisco every chance they get?"
"Where are your paintings?"
"In the hallway."
"Well, get them, I'm dying to see them."
He left the room, returned with three enormous canvases, and arranged them by the window. One by one he showed them to her.
"Paul, that one is wonderful. Such detail on the landscape. How long did it take you to do it?"
"Three days."
"Marvelous. And that one-why it's the view from your house in Laguna, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"I love the thick white oil in the sea, gives it almost a three-dimensional look." Her mouth dropped open when she looked at the third painting.
"Recognize him?"
"It's Rick, of course."
"Yes."
"That's not hard to see." She made a face. "And in all his naked glory."
"Male nudes are very popular now."
"I know, I know," she said irritably. "But did you have to paint him that nude? Why, I can see the veins in his cock!" she remarked dramatically.
"You don't like it?"
"What? The veins?"
"The painting!"
"Oh, it's good, I guess. I just like the others better."
"But why don't you like the one of Rick? It's one of my best paintings."
"I just don't dig it." She lit a cigarette, her eyes returning to the nude. "You didn't exaggerate?"
Paul grinned. "I thought you of all people would know. No, I didn't exaggerate one bit."
"The things mothers do not know about their own sons."
"I think this will sell, Susan."
"Without a doubt. Some queen will go mad for it."
"You're angry."
"Why do you say that?"
"You sound it."
"Not angry, Paul. Surprised." She butted out the cigarette, then took a sip of her drink. "You know, I was just thinking of throwing a party for you."
"For me?"
"Yes. I thought it would be a good way of introducing you. Maybe have a few of your paintings framed and hung and then invite-"
"You don't do it that way."
Susan looked at him. He was anxious, she thought, damn anxious. Biting at the bit. "Oh?" she tilted her head, "then how do you do it?"
"With a showing. At the best gallery in Hollywood."
"For instance?"
"Ambrick's Galleries on La Cienega. They're the best."
"Well, then, why not have a showing?"
"It's expensive. You have to do it up big, cocktail party, circulars, all the canvases have to be framed just right, lighting of the pictures. Then you practically have to pay a fortune for the right guest list-the real money people and-" She didn't let him finish.
"Oh, hang the expense. And no hard liquor-it's champagne all the way. And I can get all of my friends to attend. We'll put the paintings up for grabs with sky-high prices. I'll say I discovered you. And I did, in a way."
"You'll have a showing for me, then?"
"Would you like for me to?"
"Yes-very much."
"Then I'll do it." Her mind raced. This was wonderful, she couldn't have planned it better. Paul was asking for her help. If she could really put him on the map, it would be an insurance for her. Then she would have him for good. But more, why not really insure the bargain? Why not marriage? She hadn't thought of that before. As a matter-of-fact, she never thought she'd ever want to marry again. But now the idea seemed marvelous. Paul was ideal. She liked the fact he was gay. It made it easier for her. He was gentle and kind and understanding; she liked that. That and the fact that nothing shocked him. Whatever she did, he took with a grain of salt. He was just as bad as she. It meant they both could have their men on the side. And since he swung both ways, it would be a diversion for her. They could have some wild orgies. She might as well have one last fling. He was fun to be with, they were never at a loss for conversation, and she could control him. That was important, her having the upper hand. But the question was, would he go for it? She was sure he would. Not so much because he had flipped for her, but because he was attracted to her money. But that did not matter to her, as long as she got what she wanted.
The maid returned with his drink. Susan waited for the maid to leave, then walked over to him.
"I've got an idea. I'll hire a publicity man for you."
"Why?"
"To get your name going in the columns. It's important. The art world is very snobbish, that much I know. You have to come on big."
"I have no objections," Paul grinned.
Susan watched him as he sat on the sofa. He looked incredibly handsome, she thought. Oh, the things she would do for him. She'd buy him a whole new wardrobe, real mod stuff. He had the figure for it and the personality. He'd look marvelous in loud colors and scarfs and striped pants. It would be fun helping Paul to get started; besides, it would give her something to do. She could really throw herself into something like this. She so needed a new interest. But more, she desperately needed Paul. The more she thought of it, the more the idea of marriage appealed to her. But that was something she would have to ease into. Perhaps even make it come out as if the idea was Paul's. She knew how to do it; she was clever enough. Meanwhile, it was her job to get his career going. Tomorrow she would have lunch with her artist friends; she'd ask them questions like mad. It would be a project that she'd give her all for. She'd hire Stemler, Publicity. He was the best PR man in the business.
"Paul?"
"Yes."
"When will you be ready?"
"I've got a few more paintings I must do. I'm not sure."
"Well, just about when? A month?"
"Yes, I'd say a month."
"Good, that'll give us enough time if I start right now." She walked to the sofa and sat down next to him. "You know, this is going to be fun. You're a talent, and this whole city is going to know it soon. I'll make sure about that."
"Thanks, Susan," Paul said, simply.
"Oh, Paul, don't thank me." She kissed his cheek. "I should be thanking you. You don't know how much you mean to me. You know I flipped for you the second I set eyes on you."
She felt him stiffen, then twist his body so that he could reach for a cigarette. He didn't want to hear what she had to say, she felt that immediately, knew that by the way he kept his face so straight and sober, busying himself, ignoring her words.
"Paul?"
"Mmmm?"
"Don't show the nude of Rick."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. It's-it's-well, vulgar."
"Vulgar?"
"Well, it's embarrassing-sick."
"Aw, come on, Susan," he grinned. "You're just jealous I haven't painted you."
"That's not true," she fairly shouted.
"Okay-okay, I won't show it. I didn't want to sell it anyway."
"Paul?"
"Yes."
"One thing I want to get straight. I'll help you, sure. But I want something in return."
"What's that?"
"That you break with Rick!" Paul turned from her look.
He knew it, too, she thought. Rick was the only link separating them. "I want you completely," she said, her eyes holding to his.
"You're giving ultimatums early in the game, Susan."
"Yes, it is an ultimatum, isn't it?" She saw his gaze go to the wall, the pictures, then to the drapes. "Is that too much to ask?" She wet her lips. "Are you in love with him?"
He didn't answer.
"After all, Paul, it is a touchy situation, isn't it? He's against me as it is, so you're going to have to be the heavy in this one. Well? Don't you agree it's touchy?"
"Yes."
"Then you'll break with him?"
Again he remained silent.
Rising, she walked to the window and, without looking at him, said, "Think about what I can do for you, Paul. I can give you a great deal, you know. I can buy a place for you in the art world. It isn't talent that does it, not really. Half the successful artists around have been helped by people just like me. You know that. I know it. But you've got enough talent to make it interesting, and with my money, you can be a household name in no time. You'll never get a chance like this again, of having someone like me this interested in helping you. I won't go back on my word; I'm not that kind of a person."
There was a long silence as Paul shifted his position.
"What I'm really saying is that I've fallen for you, Paul, hook, line, and sinker. I want you. I want you very much." Turning from the window, she faced him. "That," she forced a laugh, "is about as serious as you will ever see me get again, darling." Abruptly she glanced at her watch. "Four o'clock. If you leave now, you'll avoid all that freeway traffic," she said, dismissing him.
Paul got to his feet. He seemed a bit confused.
"I'll leave the paintings here, if it's all right with you."
"Fine. But take the one of Rick."
She watched him walk to the painting, lift it, stop, then set it down, and return to kiss her cheek.
"I'll be in Laguna this weekend," she said. "Any objections?"
"No, not at all."
"I won't interfere with your work," she promised.
He picked up the painting and went to the door where he turned to face her. "About Rick. I-I-"
"Don't say anything now," she silenced him. "Just think about it during the week and give me your decision over the weekend."
"Good-bye."
"Au'voir, cheri," she said.
From the window she saw him put the painting in the back seat, then get into the Rolls and drive away. She twisted her hands together, feeling a flash of panic surge through her. She had given Paul his choice-her or her son! Whom would he chose? She felt a numbed emptiness as her face hardened into a sharp line. Never had she hated Rick as much as she did right now!