Rum & Ginger (11 page)

“No, Ben, wait!” Chance managed to fasten his pants and threw off his headset. “Don’t go, please.” Chance shut his computer off and the couple stood in the newly darkened room.

“Why?” Ben asked. “Why the fuck shouldn’t I?”

“It’s nothing. That wasn’t anything.”

“Really? It looked like something to me!” Ben advanced through the pitch-black room, his vision adjusting slowly. “How dare you accuse me of cheating on you? How dare you? How long has this shit been going on?”

“It’s not… I don’t… it’s… I’m sorry.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive you and forget it?” Ben wanted to punch Chance so badly, but he bit the skin of his cheek to calm himself.

“No. I don’t know. It was stupid. I was just horny and you weren’t here and I don’t know,” Chance awkwardly explained. “I didn’t expect you to come home so soon.” Chance moved to touch Ben.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me.” Ben slapped Chance’s hands away. “How long, Chance? How long have you been doing this shit?”

“I don’t know,” Chance whispered.

“More than tonight,” Ben stated. He felt sick. He couldn’t deny that he’d thought about people other than Chance, but he’d never have acted on it. How could his boring boyfriend do something like this? “Jesus, Chance.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. Really.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m sleeping in the spare room.” Ben walked through the dark house. “Don’t come near me.” Ben walked up the stairs and brushed his teeth, then went to the extra room and stripped down to his briefs. Ben climbed under the stiff, disused covers. He listened for Chance to move, to make some sound. Ben wasn’t surprised when he heard the chime of Chance’s computer booting up.

Tears welled up in Ben’s eyes, and he choked back a sob, trying not to be weak, to let Chance hurt him. When Chance’s pleading tone drifted to Ben’s ears, he couldn’t help himself, and he wept, sniffling. Chance was downstairs explaining himself to his—what? Mistress? Ben swallowed hard. That son of a bitch. After everything, how could he?

Ben listened as Chance finished his conversation. He listened as Chance ascended the stairs, listened as he padded past the door to the bathroom. Ben continued to listen as Chance performed his evening rituals as though nothing had happened. He listened as Chance’s footsteps came to a halt outside the bedroom door. Ben ground his teeth together, anticipating another round of argument. He heard Chance sigh and move away to the master bedroom. Ben released the breath he’d been holding.

Ben lay awake, running through his options as the sounds of Chance’s snores reached him. How could he sleep? Ben couldn’t believe Chance’s audacity. Ben was certain that he’d never get to sleep, and he was almost right. The gray light of morning had begun creeping through the blinds before exhaustion finally claimed his consciousness.

B
EN
AWOKE
to the sound of someone laying on the doorbell. “Christ,” Ben croaked. He forced himself up and pulled on his pants and T-shirt. “Hold on,” he said as he walked downstairs, the doorbell still ringing. He looked out the small window by the door. Standing on the front porch was a deliveryman holding two dozen roses. Ben rolled his eyes but opened the door. “Yes?”

“Good morning, sir. Ben Silver?” the deliveryman asked with a too-cheery-for-the-hour tone.

“Yeah,” Ben answered.

“These are for you, sir.” The young man held out the flowers.

“Yeah, thanks.” Ben accepted the bouquet.

“Have a great day, sir.”

“Not bloody likely,” Ben spat, closing the door on the overly enthusiastic youth. He pulled the card from the flowers and flipped it open.
Please forgive me
, the card read. Ben snorted, walking to the kitchen. He tramped on the foot pedal of the garbage can and dropped the whole lot into the receptacle. “You wish.” If Ben had known a few weeks ago what he knew now, he might not have interrupted Brodie’s kiss. Ben wanted desperately to share his anger and exasperation with someone else. There was no way Lena would be up at this hour. Despite last night, he wasn’t sure if he and Brodie were good enough friends to call him. And if he’d gone to an after-party, Brodie might not be in any state to help. “Shit.” He had Derek’s number. Would Derek understand? Probably not, but who else did Ben have to turn to?

A
N
HOUR
later, Ben sat in a lawn chair in Derek’s backyard while Derek stoked a fire in his giant man-sized grill. “You really don’t have to go to all this trouble, Derek,” Ben said for the fifth time.

“Dude. Relax. This is a great excuse for me to take the day off. After last night, I was debating it anyway. Grab a beer,” Derek called over his shoulder as he cleaned the grill racks while the fire grew.

“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” Ben asked, checking his phone. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock.

“Don’t be a pussy. It’s noon somewhere. You didn’t drink last night.” Derek toed open the lid of the cooler, grabbed a beer bottle, and tossed it to Ben. “Besides, your man totally fucked you over. If anybody deserves to get drunk today, it’s you.” He lifted a second beer out, closed the cooler, and popped the cap. “And me, because I’m sharing your pain.” Derek tipped his bottle in salute.

“What the hell,” Ben said, popping the top off his beer. He took a long pull. It was hoppy with a slight caramel aftertaste. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t awful either.

“That’s the spirit, Benny.” Derek laughed and tipped back his beer. “I’ll be back. Keep an eye on this while I grab the steaks.”

Ben nodded as Derek slipped inside the house. Sipping his beer, he felt his phone vibrate again. He looked at the screen—another text from Chance. Ben pressed the button on the top of his phone, darkening the screen and ignoring Chance’s message. He just wasn’t ready to face the situation. If someone had asked him last week if Chance would ever cheat on him, Ben wouldn’t have hesitated to declare it impossible.

Derek reappeared holding a large platter with two enormous slabs of raw beef on it in one hand and his beer in the other. “What’s with the look?” His expression was puzzled.

“Chance,” Ben said, holding up his phone.

“Pfft,” Derek noised, dismissively. “Ignore him. He’s a dick.”

“I did,” Ben explained.

“Good.” Derek put the plate on a shelf attached to the grill and pulled various spices from a cabinet, administering them on the steaks. “I can’t believe Lucky had the balls to pull something like this. If you would have asked me a week ago?” Derek echoed Ben’s thoughts.

“Tell me about it.” Ben finished off his beer. Almost instantly, Derek offered him another. “His name might be Chance, but I’ve never known him to take one.”

Derek flopped the first steak onto the grill where it made a satisfying sizzle. “Forget him. We’re taking a break from that bullshit.” He placed the second steak next to its brother. “Grab me another beer?” Derek asked, holding up his empty.

“Sure,” Ben said, moving to the cooler. He grabbed a bottle, opened it, and handed it to Derek.

“That fucker doesn’t know how bad he screwed up.” Derek sipped from the new beverage. “You are a catch, my friend. He fucked up.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Ben said and sipped at his own beer. How could he have thought Derek wouldn’t understand? Derek was being super supportive, and Ben was pleasantly surprised.

“You don’t have to thank me, man. That’s the shit that friends do.” Derek flipped the steaks and closed the lid of the grill. He took two long pulls to finish his beer and fished another from the cooler. Ben felt like he was falling behind, so he took a couple of gulps from his bottle and got himself another. He could feel the effects already. Ben flopped back into his lawn chair and inhaled the charcoal scent of the cooking meat.

“That smells great,” Ben told Derek.

“Hell yeah. I learned from the best. My dad might be a huge douche, but he can cook a steak like a motherfucker.” Derek lifted the lid of the grill and flipped the steaks. “Rare? Medium? How do you like it?”

“Rare or medium-rare,” Ben answered. “I’m not too picky.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Derek barked a laugh. He stabbed a knife into both of the steaks. “I’d say they’re just about done.” He closed the lid for a few more moments before lifting it once again and removing the steaks from the heat. He slapped the slabs onto a pair of plates. The two men wasted little time digging into the hearty meal. Ben had no sooner finished the last of his beer than Derek presented him with another.

“So what are you going to do now?” Derek asked between bites.

Ben finished chewing before he answered. He shrugged. “I don’t know, to be perfectly honest.” He placed his fork and knife on the plate, picked up his beer, and drank. “I don’t feel like I can live there anymore, that’s for sure. But I don’t know where the hell I can go. I guess I could get a hotel.”

“Fuck that,” Derek said around a mouthful of steak. “You can stay here. This isn’t the big house, but with Jennie and the kids gone, I got plenty of room.”

“I couldn’t,” Ben said without thinking. He couldn’t imagine being roommates with Derek.

“Of course you could. The guest bedroom in the basement has a half bath with a shower and a kitchenette. It’ll be just like an apartment.”

“I don’t know.” Ben picked up his knife and fork again, slicing into his steak.

“It’ll be great. There’s even an entrance through the game room. You can come and go as you please.”

“It’s tempting,” Ben admitted.

“Look, Benny, if it makes you feel better, I’ll charge you rent.” Derek offered a sincere smile.

“Wow.” Ben tried to think of any valid reason to not accept the offer. He couldn’t. “I’ll have to think about it, but I might actually take you up on this.”

“Take your time. The offer stands.” Derek sliced off a piece of steak and jabbed it into his mouth. “How about another beer?” he asked.

B
EN
AND
Derek drank the better part of a case over the afternoon and discussed a variety of topics including the films of Tarantino, Ben’s desire to open a bar, and the last time Derek ran a marathon and shat himself. Ben laughed uproariously. “Wait. So you were three miles into a 5K marathon and you shat yourself?”

“No. Fucker,” Derek slurred in mock offense. “I didn’t actually shit myself. I had to duck into a building and drop a deuce.”

“Did you manage to finish the race?” Ben asked still smiling.

“Nah. It turns out the building I ducked into was a strip club. I decided to stay.”

Ben laughed again. “That’s classic. But why stay at a strip club with no money?”

“Who said I didn’t have money?” Derek asked.

“You carried cash in a marathon?” Ben drained another beer.

“Hell no. But I stuck my bankcard in my jock, ’cause you never know.” That earned more laughter from Ben, and Derek joined him.

Maybe the roommate thing with Derek could work out. “You know what, Derek?”

“What?”

“I think I will take you up on your offer,” Ben announced.

“Awesome,” Derek answered. “Beer me!” He tossed another empty bottle to the ground. Ben happily obliged, lobbing his new roommate a full bottle.

“I have to figure out how to get my stuff,” Ben said, opening another beer for himself.

“That’s easy. I have a company truck. I’ll send some of the garage kids over tomorrow to help you pack stuff up and move it.”

“Really?” Ben asked.

“Yeah. The cars are clean enough for one day. What time should I send them by?” Derek asked.

Ben thought about it. Could this really be happening? He’d been with Chance for years. Could it really change this drastically this quickly? Did he really want it to? He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his anger, but he knew the answer was yes. “They’ll have to come by after Chance goes to work. Say elevenish?”

“That’s the spirit, Benny!” Derek slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m planning to be nursing a hangover, so the later the better.” Derek laughed loudly at his joke, and the laughter infected Ben as well. Halfway through their fit, Ben realized he was suddenly very scared and apprehensive, and his laughter died in his throat. What he really felt like doing was crying. Derek noticed Ben’s silence and stopped laughing too. “Benny. What’s wrong?”

Ben choked back the sob that fought to escape his throat. “Nothing. Everything.” Ben couldn’t speak at first. He just didn’t want to cry in front of Derek. He took a deep, steadying breath. “This is just a really big step.”

“It’ll be okay, man.” Derek squeezed Ben’s shoulder. “Sometimes you just have to take your life by the balls and fuck the consequences. Do what’s right for you.”

“What if I find out it’s not right?” Ben asked. He could feel tears in his eyes but refused to let them spill over.

“That’s life, dude. Sometimes the shit you do is awesome and sometimes you fuck up. God knows I’ve fucked stuff up enough to know. But I’m still here.”

“That’s a fair point,” Ben said.

“I mean, my life is shit right now. Not just regular shit but like end-of-the-world, zombie apocalypse, raped by Satan shit. I almost lost everything in the divorce. But I’ve got this place. I’ve still got beer.” Derek held up his bottle. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it’s better than nothing. And I’ve reconnected with a friend from high school.” Derek sat back and grinned widely.

“So you’re looking at the silver lining,” Ben guessed.

“Hell yeah. You have to. Look at it this way: if Jennie hadn’t broken it off, I might never have been at Mike’s that night, and we wouldn’t have started hanging out again. Right?”

“And that’s a good thing?” Ben asked.

“Shit yes! If we hadn’t started hanging out, you wouldn’t have a place to stay!” Derek slapped his hand on the table. “See?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I see.” Ben smirked. It seemed Lena wasn’t the only unexpected source of odd insight in Ben’s life now. “You should hang out with Lena sometime,” Ben told Derek. “You might find you guys have more in common than you think.”

“Ha. Yeah. We both think I’m a huge ass who deserves everything he gets.” Derek snorted and finished off his beer.