Chiaroscuro (35 page)

"Yeah, it is."

Another moment of silence. "So, I understand you're my rival."

Ben coughed and handed the cigarette back. "Sorry?"

"For Jamie. He cares for you very deeply. But on the other hand, he's not really the forgiving type, so it's mostly a matter of who he decides to forgive first." He sucked on the cigarette. "I suspect it will be me."

"If you think Jamie's going to want you just because you have money--"

"Jamie appreciates money. He appreciates connections, knowing the right people, being seen in the right places. He was a little yob from Manchester when I found him--I rescued him from the gutter, I gave him an education. Not just the art school but about the world. Because of me, he's cultured and refined. Everything you like about Jamie, I created."

"That's not true," Ben said. "Everything I like about Jamie is completely his own."

"Yes," Stuart said, glaring at him. "He does have a beautiful body, doesn't he?"

"I'm not talking about his body. I'm talking about his--his spark. Jamie shines and it has nothing to do with culture or refinement or knowing what wine goes with what food. It's him. It's all him."

"Is that so?" said Stuart coolly. "And what exactly can you offer him, Mr. Gallagher, in exchange for his 'spark'? Can you look after him, take care of him, keep the everyday concerns of life away from him so he can concentrate on his art?"

Ben said slowly, "Do you really think that's what he wants? Somebody to treat him like a child?"

"He's an artist. They're different from the rest of us."

"He's Jamie and all he needs is someone to love him." He stopped himself and frowned. "And. And that's not me."

Stuart looked at him, confused, and then laughed. "You don't love him. Well. That settles it, doesn't it? All the more reason for him to come home." He placed a fatherly hand on Ben's arm. "Don't worry about him. I'll see to it that he forgets you. Probably starting today when I take him to Napa for the week."

Ben looked at his hand--raised his eyes to look at Stuart's face. "Because you love him," he said in the most bland tone he could manage.

Stuart shrugged. "Something like that." A taxi pulled up in front the building. "There's my cab. Do thank our hosts again for me, won't you? Simon has such charming friends." He got into the cab.

Ben watched him go, feeling completely at sea. No Jamie--Jamie going back to England--no Jamie around the building, running down the stairs to pound on his door and say, "Benjie! Come play with me!", to stop in the middle of sex because he'd remembered some art piece or book he wanted Ben to see, to hold his hand in church and slow dance with him on the sidewalk and call him at the bakery to tell him a joke he'd just thought up, which were usually unrepeatable when his mother was around.

It would be bleak.

But he should be with someone who loves him--wants to look after him, all that stuff that Stuart said. He wants things from me that I'm not--I just--

Ben leaned against the wall and pressed his hands to his eyes, taking deep breaths, and when he no longer felt like crying he went back into the building and climbed the stairs to Leo's. They were still cleaning up but waved him off when he offered to help, so he went on to his apartment.

And then up to Jamie's, and he knocked on the door. After a few minutes Jamie answered, wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair sticking up in every direction. "Hey," he said and smiled a little.

"Hi. Um. So you're off to Napa."

"Yeah." Jamie fidgeted with the door knob. "We're leaving later today."

"Yeah. Stuart was at Leo and Adam's brunch. I was surprised not to see you, but everybody said you wanted to sleep."

"Yeah. Long day yesterday. Do you want to come in?"

"No--no. Um." He closed his eyes a moment. "Have a good time."

"I'm sure we will. Oh--something came for you, on the website's email." He went into the apartment and came back with a printed piece of paper. He held it out to Ben. "I was going to slip this into your mail slot, but here you are."

"What is it?"

"Read it, git," said Jamie with a faint laugh.

Ben took the paper and scanned it quickly, then read it again, slower. "It's from the cooking channel."

"I know."

"They want me to--holy God. They want me for a baking competition."

"I know," said Jamie, beaming. "Call the phone number."

"And tell them what?"

"And tell them yes, of course."

"I can't cook in front of people!"

"Yes, you can, and you will. You'll blow them away. You have to do this, Benjie--think of the exposure for the bakery."

"Well, yeah, but--"

"But nothing. You can, you should, and you will. I need to take a shower," Jamie added. "We'll talk when I get back from Napa, yeah? Call them. Promise me."

"I'll--I'll call." He looked at the email again, too astounded to know what to think. "And... yeah. I'll. I'll miss you," he added.

Jamie bit his lip. his face blank, "All right. See you later, then." He shut the door.

Ben folded up the email and put it in his pocket, and went back to his apartment. May as well get this over with, he thought, and dialed the phone number the producer had left in his email. He got a voice mailbox., "This is Ben Gallagher from Gallagher and Sons bakery in San Francisco. I'm interested in participating in the competition but I'd like to hear more about it before I give an answer. Um, call me at home or at the bakery." He rattled off his phone numbers and said thanks a few more times before hanging up.

And then he called Dune.

***

The winery Stuart had chosen was pretty and quiet, and nearly deserted at this time of year. Still, they were able to attend tastings and take tours around the valley, and Jamie spent his free time drawing the long low buildings or a study of a bunch of dark purple grapes.

As promised, Stuart got them separate rooms. Jamie found this a relief: Stuart was hard enough to resist when upright, and he made no secret of the fact that his door was open to Jamie should he choose to come. Jamie couldn't imagine keeping his hands off him when they were in the same bed, even if they intended to keep it platonic.

And he needed the space. He needed to think.

The truth, he supposed, was very simple: he was in love with Ben. He loved Ben. And of course Ben wasn't interested, because he didn't do relationships--he didn't do love.

Why this was so was Ben's business, Jamie supposed, but how he himself dealt with it was the issue. The thought of leaving San Francisco and never seeing Ben again--never seeing any of them again--hurt more than he cared to think about.

But maybe it was the right thing to do--to go home, be in his country, among the places and people he was accustomed to.

It didn't mean he had to go back to Stuart, though Stuart would probably expect it if he was going to guide Jamie's career as he seemed to think he should. Jamie didn't want to be with him out of a sense of obligation, but while Stuart was as sexy and beautiful as Jamie remembered, he wasn't the love of Jamie's life anymore. He wasn't Ben.

He drew Ben as he sat in the winery's garden. He drew Ben's lean handsome face and long, strong body, the twinkle in his eye and the careless grace in his hands. He tried drawing Stuart a few times but they all felt lifeless and flat, as if whatever was inner-Stuart could simply not be found.

If he left California, Jamie thought, he might eventually stop wanting Ben.

But he didn't want to stop wanting him.

Jamie crumpled up the drawing he'd been working on and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. It never helped to think about this sort of thing, really.

The night before they were to head back to San Francisco they dined at the last winery on Stuart's list, tasting the house wine between bites of marinated beef and mashed potatoes. Stuart said, "I'm bound for London again in a few days. Will you be coming with me or will you be staying here?"

"I don't know," Jamie said honestly. "I'm not sure what I want."

"You want to be well-known and well-respected."

"Perhaps." Jamie buttered a roll to keep from looking at him. "But I can do that here. You said yourself that Simon would look after me well."

"Simon will do you well, that's true," said Stuart and refilled Jamie's glass. "But you know I'll do you better. All I've ever wanted, Jamie, is to look after you."

"I know you have. And you did a very good job for almost three years. But I...I don't know that I want to be looked after."

"Of course you do! How can you create without someone to tend to the mundane details for you?"

"I've done quite well with that, the last few years," Jamie said, putting down his knife and fork. "I have my own business. I'm self-sufficient. I won't starve if I can't make a living with art."

"You wouldn't starve with me, either. Everything I have could be yours."

Jamie looked down at his plate and sighed. "And when you get tired of me again?"

"Jamie!" Stuart said. "I--I just made a bad choice--"

"What if you make a bad choice again? Where will that leave me? Dependent on you, that's where. I don't want to be that, Stuart."

Stuart rubbed between his eyebrows, perplexed. "I'm too old for you."

"Never. That's never been the problem. The problem is that you want me to always be that seventeen-year-old boy who gazed at you with adoration, and I haven't been him for many years and never will be again. Stuart." He reached across the table to take his hand. "If you want to be with me you need to accept who I am, not who you wish I were."

Stuart glanced at their hands, and then looked up at Jamie with the saddest eyes Jamie had ever seen him use. "You love that baker. Ben."

"Yes," Jamie said.

"He doesn't love you, you know."

"I know." He let of Stuart's hand. "But he doesn't make fun of my decorating style, either."

"Point taken." He exhaled slowly. "He'll never be your equal. He hasn't your experience, your education, your talent--"

"He's got his own experience and education and talent. That's enough."

"Is that really what you want?"

"Yes," Jamie said and sipped from his glass. "I think he is. Of course, I have no idea how to go about showing him this."

"Jamie, if he doesn't know how you feel after all the pictures and the time you've spent on him and that you'd want him back even after he hurt you--" He shook his head. "Then he's not worthy of you, dearest boy. Go after him, Jamie. Go claim him. And if he doesn't love you even then, you know where to find me. I'll be waiting for you."

"I doubt you'll wait long," Jamie said gently, "but I appreciate the sentiment." He stood and leaned over the table to kiss Stuart's forehead. "You do make everything better, even when you don't try."

"Imagine how well I'd do if I were trying," Stuart said. "I do want you happy, you know."

"I know." He patted Stuart's cheek and sat again, hooking his foot through the rungs of the chair. He felt lighter than he had for days--relieved, now that he had a plan of sorts, or at least a goal to work towards.

They went for a walk after supper, Stuart's arm over Jamie's shoulders. Jamie leaned his head against Stuart's chest, comfortable.

And tomorrow he'd…he'd go win Ben.

Chapter Seventeen

"They want me in Las Vegas next Monday," Ben told Dune over the phone. "One of the competitors dropped out at the last minute and they want somebody to take his place. This could mean big things for the bakery."

"You've got to go," said Dune. "Opportunities like this don't come up every day."

"I know, I know, but..." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "But what if Jamie and Stuart want to leave before I get back? I can't go without talking to him."

"They'll be back tomorrow. Jamie called me to let me know."

"He did?" Ben said.

"Yeah. And he didn't give me time to ask if he's going to London or not--I don't know if he made up his mind."

"Okay. Okay. I won't be leaving for Vegas until Monday morning... so I'll see him tomorrow," he said with relief. "And then--well. Then we'll talk."

"Do you know what you're going to say?" Dune said gently.

Ben leaned against the wall and exhaled. "No. I have no idea. I'm going to tell him the truth, I guess. And about the competition."

"Yes, definitely about that. He'll be so proud of you."

"I hope so."

"And about the other thing?" Dune paused, and when Ben didn't speak he said, "The part about love and commitment and everything?"

Ben stared out the window at the grey, rainy city. "I don't--I mean--Dunie--"

"Damn it, Ben, if he doesn't think he has a reason to stay he won't stay!"

"He has you--he has his career--what does he need me for?"

Dune sighed and said slowly, "Because he loves you. He loves you. He loves you and you make him happy. And you, despite whatever you keep telling yourself, love him and he makes you happy. I've never seen two people more miserable than the two of you the night of the opening, and I have no intention of watching you mope and listening to him mope from across the sea. So tell him. Tell him you can't live without him or I'll do it for you."

Ben closed his eyes and tilted back his head. "I don't want him to stay just because of me. What if things don't work out? He'll have missed this fantastic opportunity and he'll never forgive me."

"Then things have to work out."

"Dune, you know life isn't like that. We're not all Adam and your dad."

"You could be if you wanted to be. You've got the main thing that you need: this great guy who wants to be with you and loves you."

"How do you know he wants to be with me? He's with Stuart."

"Just for a few days! And he'll be back tomorrow and you can talk and get this whole mess straightened out. Tell him the truth about Ian. Hell, tell him the truth about you."

"And what is the truth about me?" Ben said wearily.

"That you're scared."

"Oh, really."

"Yes," said Dune as if it were the most obvious thing under the sun. "That the real reason you don't do love is because you're too scared to give it a try. You want life to be comfortable, Benjie, but, news flash, it's not. It's awkward and noisy and complicated. People hurt you and people misunderstand you--and sometimes they love you and want to give you a chance."