A tall, dark haired man, who was probably in his early twenties, although he might have passed for younger, lounged in the entrance to the galley, his hands resting on the worktop behind him. He leaned back now, watching the newcomer with guarded interest. Soft, damp, mahogany curls framed a chiselled, sun-tanned face. His eyes were as dark as his hair and long lashed under fine, arched brows. Under different circumstances Rayne might have found him attractive. This afternoon he was simply too tired and twitchy to be appreciative.
Isolde came out from the kitchen in her magenta sarong, carrying three tall glasses and gave the handsome youth a peck on the cheek. At once he took one of the glasses and winked at her conspiratorially. She came to Rayne now, before the argument could erupt and purred; “Poor baby, you’re hot and sweaty. You need a cold drink and a good rub down.”
Rayne could not disagree. He sipped the contents of the glass, which tasted cold and far too sweet.
“I just went for a walk.”
“Over four hours ago!” Ant exclaimed, a little hysterically Rayne thought.
“I got lost,” he said with a humourless grin.
Daniel Leland had followed Ant and Rayne in from the rear deck and stood in the doorway, observing them quietly now.
“We’ve wasted a whole day,” he pointed out in a milder tone that nevertheless failed to mask his impatience.
Rayne turned on him now, simmering visibly. “You never said I ought to be back for a certain time. I ‘told’ you I was going out!”
“I imagined that you would be no more than an hour.” Leland shrugged. “My mistake.”
“Yeah!” Rayne took a longer swig from the glass then put it down on the counter with a grimace. “Damn right it is!”
“I had already understood that you were less than reliable,” the old man told him, as if he had not paused. “I should have been more… explicit.”
That was just about all that Rayne could take after the morning he had endured. Grabbing the bag of cigarettes he headed off for the bedrooms growling; “Oh fuck off and leave me alone!”
Ant called out to him reprovingly but he did not look back. A pensive silence filled the day room and Daniel Leland heaved a long, ponderous sigh that seemed to suck the heat from the afternoon.
“I’ll talk to him,” Ant was already heading after the boy. “He’s just… highly strung. It’s not been easy for him, the last few weeks. Sometimes he gets a bit…”
“Rude?” Leland finished for him. “Petulant?”
A Boy Who Came In from the Cold
“He’s not used to all this,” Ant stopped in the entrance to the passageway, beside the dark haired youth, who looked at him rather sympathetically. “He’s just unsettled, that’s all. He likes to get his own way.”
“Obviously.” Daniel waved him away with another sigh. “Ask if he has any objections to our putting out to sea whilst it’s still light, would you?”
Rayne was under the shower when Ant caught up with him. His eyes were closed and he was standing motionless, his arms loose at his sides, head turned upward, letting the water splash off his face like a mountain cascade. He watched the boy for a little while, letting his temper subside as Rayne slowly lowered his face, shaking his dark head from side to side and raising his arms almost as if he was offering prayers to the water gods.
“Can you hear me?” he asked at last.
Green eyes opened slowly, blinking through the wetness, shimmering and red-rimmed. Ant had not expected him to cry. He moved under the shower at once and put his arms around his lover.
“What’s wrong? I didn’t mean to shout at you. I was just worried that’s all.” He buried his face in the boy’s dark, wet hair, feeling his slight body tremble and jerk with the effort of containing the sobs. Now Ant knelt in front of him, cupping his face and stroking his hot cheeks gently. Even under the cool water he was burning up. His shoulders and the bridge of his nose were flushed. Ant cursed himself for not noticing it before; Rayne was on fire, even after a liberal application of sun-oil. He would be untouchable for days. Daniel was going to be furious. “Oh, my poor baby,” he whispered.
Isolde had some intensive moisturising cream in her bag and together she and Ant gently applied most of it to Rayne’s face and body. He was seared in bands across his back and chest, the curve of his buttocks and his upper thighs, his forehead, nose and chin, his forearms and the tops of his feet. As they fussed over him he whimpered and cried like a child on the bed.
Terry brought a jug of iced water and they managed to coax some of it into him before he curled up on his side and lay shivering on the mattress, refusing to speak to anyone. Ant and Isolde stayed with him in shifts throughout the afternoon and evening as the party continued on deck. Daniel, Ant suspected, was not best pleased with him but he put a brave face on things as he went back out in search of refreshment.
“Is he all right?” asked Aldo, the dark-haired, older boy, one of Dan’s regular actors, who had come on board with his companion Arturo, the woolly-chested fellow, earlier in the day.
Ant smiled weakly. Aldo was a good-looking lad and seemed genuine enough but he felt awkward discussing the situation. He could not help the feeling that Rayne would not thank him for it.
“Burned and tired, probably a bit of sunstroke as well,” he said in a weary voice. “Poor little bugger’s probably never known it as hot and bright as it is here.”
“Do you want me to stay with him for a while?” The lad sounded quite sincere in his concern. Ant wondered why it was that the idea left him feeling so uneasy. Rayne was exhausted and hurting. It was not as if he was going to throw himself at the young Italian porn star tonight.
“Isolde’s still with him,” he explained.
“I’ll go see if she wants a drink,” Aldo vanished into the corridor before he could object. Ant heaved a sigh and went back up on deck. When Isolde joined him a few moments later he did not ask her for an explanation.
ALDO: He was agonisingly thin, that was Aldo’s first thought as he stood in the doorway studying the naked boy on the bed. Aldo was the fourth son of a large Tuscan family and his stage-name, di Boccato, was appropriate in more ways than just the one. It meant, ‘the Mouthful’ and his brothers certainly knew how to eat. Although Aldo was lean by their standards, he was a bruiser compared to Rayne. The tiny little creature curled up before him seemed barely more than a child. He would not talk; would not eat; seemed reluctant to even move in spite of all Isolde’s gentle coaxing.
At last she gave in and left the boy to Aldo’s care.
“Do you want more cream?”
Aldo settled down on the end of Rayne’s bed once Isolde had returned to the party. After a little while of watching the English boy in silence, he decided that Rayne Wilde was not asleep, merely pretending. His breathing was quick and irregular still and he remained curled up on one side, careful not to lie on any of his more serious burns. Antonio said that he was twenty years old but Aldo found that hard to believe. He had seen ‘Going All The Way’ and knew that it was a longstanding hardcore classic among men who liked First-Time movies, but even so he found it incredible that the sexy young teen who had called himself Jay Raymonde was only a couple of years his junior.