Rum & Ginger (18 page)

“Almost,” she answered. She grabbed a tube of lip gloss, considered it, and dropped it back into the kit. What she pulled out next looked like a bottle of mouthwash, but Ben knew better. She unscrewed the lid and took a huge gulp, but she, unlike Ben, didn’t spit the liquid out.

“Vodka?” Ben asked.

“Rum,” she answered and held the bottle out to Ben. Ben accepted and took a pull, savoring the spicy, burning liquid. Lena retrieved the lip gloss and painted her lips. She stood up, and Ben returned the bottle. She put the cap back on and looked at Ben with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” he asked. She held up a finger, put the bottle in her trunk, and sifted through her kit, reemerging with a stick of purple eyeliner.

“Hold still,” she instructed. She traced Ben’s eyes with the thin pencil. “There you go. Matches your shirt.”

“Really?” Ben asked. He bent over and looked at his eyes in Lena’s little mirror.

“You’re on the market again,” Lena responded. She closed the lid on her makeup kit, then her trunk. “Every little bit helps.” She winked at him and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go. You’re driving.” They climbed in his car and headed for Jackie’s and Ben’s first date since before he and Chance started seeing each other.

B
EN
AND
Lena pulled into the bar’s parking lot and saw Brodie leaning on the hood of a jet-black ’67 Chevy Impala. He was wearing worn jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, showing off his arm tattoos. He brought a cigarette to his mouth, took a drag, and let the smoke escape his mouth slowly. “Jesus Christ,” Lena said. “Except for the hair, he looks like fucking James Dean.”

“Yeah,” Ben almost whispered. Brodie looked like a model at a photo shoot.

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Lena growled.

“No shit,” he answered. He pulled the car into a parking space three to the left of Brodie’s. As they exited, Brodie walked over to meet them. He took a last puff of his cigarette and crushed it out beneath his Doc Marten boot.

“Hey, Brodie,” Ben called.

“Hey, guys.” Brodie offered them a large smile.

Ben walked past Brodie to his car. “Wow. This looks just like Dean’s car from
Supernatural
.” Ben reached out but didn’t dare touch the immaculate surface of the hood.

Brodie nodded. “It’s my dad’s. I’m just borrowing it for the night.”

“Does your dad know he’s got Dean’s car?” Lena asked in awe.

“Oh yeah. We’re all big fans of the show,” Brodie answered. “Dad and Mom cosplayed Sam and Dean one year at Comic-Con.”

“What?” Ben blurted. “Your parents go to Comic-Con?”

“Every year. I went as Cas that year.”

“That’s awesome,” Ben said.

“Kind of. People kept asking to take pictures of my dad and I kissing.”

Ben and Lena looked at one another for a moment. “Oh. Right.” Ben nodded. “Yeah. That’s awkward. Man, I wish I could go to Comic-Con.”

“Maybe you can tag along this year,” Brodie offered. “Shall we?” He motioned to the front door of the bar.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” Ben replied. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t usually. I smoke cloves on special occasions,” Brodie explained as Lena dashed ahead of them.

“Is this a special occasion?” Ben asked as they neared the front door.

“I hope so,” Brodie answered with a smirk.

Ben could feel himself blush. He quickly changed the subject. “So you have the coolest parents ever, apparently.”

Brodie chuckled and handed the guy at the door his ID. “Yeah. But they can be weird sometimes too.”

Ben handed his ID over as well. “How so?”

“You should have seen them the year they dressed up as the Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness.”

“Ha. That’s great.” Ben paid both their covers.

“It was the first time I
didn’t
want to watch those characters make out.”

“Whoa. I guess I can understand that.” Ben thought about it as Brodie opened the door for him. “Did you guys always stick with a unified theme?”

“Yeah.”

“So who did you dress as that year?” Ben asked.

“Rory the Roman.”

“Which Doctor did your dad dress as?” Ben asked as they entered the building. Lena was already at the bar waving them over.

“Ten,” Brodie answered.

“Why Rory, then?”

“’Cause I didn’t want to dress as Rose or Ianto,” Brodie answered with an expression of mild disgust.

“Good call,” Ben agreed as they joined Lena. She handed them shots. They toasted and downed the drinks. Ben sputtered. “Jesus, Lena! Tequila for the first shot of the night?” Brodie and Lena laughed.

“Technically, Ben-Ben, it’s not the first shot. We drank rum out of my trunk.”

Brodie raised his eyebrows at her words.

“She keeps alcohol in her car disguised as mouthwash,” Ben explained.

“Of course she does,” Brodie said. “Next round’s on me.” He ordered them all a chocolate cake shot, then had to tell the bartender how to mix it. Brodie handed each of them a lemon slice coated in sugar. “To good friends,” Brodie said, raising his glass. Ben and Lena did the same. They all gulped their drinks and then immediately sucked on the lemons.

“That never ceases to amaze me,” Ben said dropping his used slice into his empty glass. “What do we want next?”

“How about a Jäger Bomb?” Lena suggested.

“You’re kidding?” Ben asked.

“Come on, Ben-Ben.” She put an arm around him. “Live a little. It’s fun. It’s twice the alcohol. And you’re paying.”

“She has a point there, Ben,” Brodie added.

“Not you too?” Ben wrinkled his nose at his friends. “Fine.” He collected their glasses and walked over to the bar. He pulled out two twenties. “Can I get three Jäger Bombs?”

“You got it.” The bartender poured the shots and the beer.

“Keep the change,” Ben said. “Hey,” he called to Brodie. “A little help?” Brodie happily ran over to help, grabbing the shots while Ben got the mugs. “Here you go, you fucking lushes.” Ben counted down for them, and they toasted, dropped their shots, and chugged. Unsurprisingly, Lena finished first. She handed Ben a five-dollar bill. “Now I’m your drink boy?” he asked.

“Yes.” She stated. “Vodka tonic. I’m going to put some decent music on so we can fucking dance.” Lena wandered over to the state-of-the-art, digital jukebox.

“You better hop to it, drink boy,” Brodie said with a smirk.

“Ha.” Ben paused. “You’re right, though. I better get her drink.” As they purchased another round, the current song ended and a familiar tune filled the bar. “Oh Christ,” Ben groaned when he recognized it. “Ace of Base? Seriously?” he asked, handing Lena her drink.

She was already dancing. “What can I say? ‘I saw the sign,’” she answered and laughed. Ben tried not to, but couldn’t help himself. Lena took his hand and led him onto the dance floor with Brodie trailing close behind. The trio found an empty spot among the gyrating bodies to claim for themselves and danced as Ace of Base led into Pink. Ben and Brodie danced happily and vigorously. Lena danced with each of them in turn and then with a few random men who stepped too close.

Ben could barely take his eyes off Brodie. His body, the way he moved made Ben feel even warmer than the dancing. Brodie’s face showed such pure and honest joy. Ben wanted to touch his face so badly. He wanted to feel that kind of happiness. Lena left them alone to get another drink. Ben couldn’t recognize the song that came over the speakers, but it was raw. Ben could tell Brodie felt it—the way he moved his hips, his eyes closed as if in ecstasy. Ben moved similarly, but he couldn’t close his eyes, couldn’t stop looking at Brodie.

Lena returned with her drink. As she attempted sipping it and dancing, she lost her balance and bumped into Ben, knocking him into Brodie. The pair paused at the sudden contact, but before either of them had time to realize what they were doing, the music took over. Ben found himself dancing extremely close to Brodie. His hand rested on Ben’s hip, and Ben placed his hand on Brodie’s shoulder at the base of his neck. Lena danced just off to their side, howling her approval of their more intimate contact.

Ben and Brodie were both damp with perspiration from their exertion. Brodie smelled good to begin with, though Ben couldn’t place the brand of the fragrance, but it had become even more intoxicating mixed with Brodie’s sweat. Ben could feel Brodie’s breath every time they moved with the beat of the song. Brodie pulled Ben close. Ben’s gaze darted just past Brodie’s shoulder. He saw a man and a woman kissing vigorously, obviously overcome by the emotion, the grinding beat, the dirty guitar that dominated the song. Ben understood. He could feel it too and imagined him and Brodie doing the same.

Ben opened his mouth, breathing Brodie’s scent in through both his nose and his mouth. He smelled like lust; Ben could nearly taste it. He saw Brodie’s lips part, and wanted nothing more than to devour them. Ben could feel not only his excitement growing but Brodie’s as well while their bodies moved in unison. The music seemed to slow, as did the crowd around them. Ben could see individual beads of sweat on Brodie’s forehead. Their gazes locked for a moment before Brodie leaned in. Ben closed the rest of the space between them, and he thought his lips might catch fire from the blazing heat emanating from Brodie. Ben vaguely registered Lena whooping delightfully.

Their moment was stolen too soon by someone tapping Ben on the shoulder. The spell broke. It took Ben a moment to realize there was an intruder on the first real kiss he’d had since Chance. “What the fuck,” Ben growled.

“Yeah. What the fuck is your problem, bitch?” Lena echoed, stepping up to the woman who had interrupted Ben and Brodie’s moment.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid my manager asked me to come over and warn you that he thinks you’ve had too much to drink. And if you continue this behavior, we’ll have to ask you to leave.” The girl appeared terrified and uncomfortable as she recited the words.

“I’ve only had three drinks,” Ben said, incredulously.

“What behavior?” Brodie inquired.

“Jackie’s has a policy against extreme displays of public affection,” she answered.

“Oh yeah?” Lena asked. “What about those nasty fuckers!” She pointed to the man and woman Ben had noticed earlier.

“Please calm down, miss.” The waitress lifted her hands.

“I’m totally fucking calm,” Lena spat. “This is bullshit.”

The waitress scowled. “I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Lena shouted. Ironically the music on the jukebox chose that moment to dip into a lull, drawing the attention of the entire bar. Even the couple making out paused.

“Miss,” one of the bouncers said warningly as he approached Lena.

“You homophobic motherfuckers!” Lena shouted. The bouncer grabbed her upper arm, and she hauled off and punched him in the mouth. “Get your hands off me, asshole!”

“Please,” the waitress interjected. Lena shoved her, knocking her to the floor.

“You’re a bunch of fucking Nazis!” Lena screeched. The bouncer lunged for her, and Ben and Brodie both caught him by the arms and held him back.

“Lena, we should go,” Ben said.

“Should we? Should we? What about Uncle Fucknut and his filthy skank?” Lena pointed once more at the couple who had just been kissing in the corner. “It’s okay if those douchebags fuck each other on the dance floor, but if two dudes happen to touch each other it’s a federal fucking crime?” A few people in the crowd muttered their agreement.

“You’d better get your friend out of here before we call the cops,” the bouncer in Ben’s and Brodie’s grip growled.

“Shit.” Ben couldn’t believe how quickly the night had turned. He released the big man’s arm and walked over to Lena. “Lena, come on. We should get out of here.”

“Fuck that!” Lena shook out of Ben’s grip. “We have every right to be here.”

“They’re going to call the police,” Ben whispered.

Lena looked at him. “Fuck this place!” Lena suddenly changed her tune. “I don’t want to give my money to a bar run by bigots and fucking Nazis! I’m out!” She threw her hands up and stalked almost steadily to the door. The bouncer ripped his arm from Brodie’s grip as more than a few people followed Lena to the parking lot. Brodie reached out his hand, and Ben grabbed it. They followed the rest of the people who’d decided to leave.

Ben was inspired and disgusted equally. People muttered derogatory comments as they left. He hated that they’d essentially been run out of a local bar for being gay, but it bolstered his spirits that Lena wasn’t the only person pissed off by the situation.

O
UTSIDE
, L
ENA
had attracted a crowd. She was still spewing venom against Jackie’s, Mr. Yielder, and his daughter, Sammy. Ben knew it was just a crowd of adrenalized drunks, but it warmed his heart a little that they were so offended.

“Bullshit,” she shouted. Ben hadn’t heard what she said just before. “This is just another example of this shitty little town’s bigotry. Some prick and his skank can basically fuck each other on the dance floor, but as soon as one dude touches another dude, they flip the fuck out!” The little crowd murmured their agreement. “We need a place where people can just fucking be people!” Lena had climbed up on the hood of a random car.

“Does she think she’s Kevin Bacon?” Brodie asked.

“What?” Ben returned, completely lost.

“You know,
Footloose
? It’s like she’s giving a big motivational speech to the little town,” Brodie explained.

Ben couldn’t suppress his smile. “She’s very charismatic, isn’t she?”

“We need a place that doesn’t discriminate,” Brodie yelled, feeding Lena’s fervor.

“Exactly!” Lena shouted. The crowd agreed.

“You know who’s going to do it?” Brodie asked.

“Who?” Lena responded.

“This guy right here!” Brodie pointed to Ben. “My good friend is going to open a bar that accepts everyone! Gay, straight, regardless of color, social standing. It’s going to be awesome.”

“Brodie,” Ben said in an admonishing tone. He was surprised when the small crowd applauded. “Nothing’s definite,” he tried to calm them. Ben heard sirens in the distance. “We should get out of here before the cops show up!” No one moved, still staring at the spectacle. “I’m not kidding, you guys. Take off.” The spell was suddenly broken and people walked off, jumped in their cars, or called taxis.