Rum & Ginger (8 page)

“I get that, I do. But for now we have to suck it up and deal with real jobs,” Chance responded. “It’s a necessary evil.”

Ben had heard this speech before, and it was always about Chance and this house. “I know,” Ben said. “I know, but I hate it.”

Chance wrapped his arms around Ben. “It’s just something you have to deal with as an adult,” he whispered.

Ben returned the embrace, too happy for the physical contact. He nodded into Chance’s shoulder. He didn’t agree, but it had been too long since he’d felt this close to Chance, and he didn’t want to jinx it. Chance found Ben’s lips, and they kissed, deep, long, and vigorously. Ben’s pants grew tight with excitement as Chance’s hands explored Ben’s body. Ben pushed the thoughts of the bar to the back of his mind and let himself be carried along by the moment.

Chance was uncommonly enthusiastic, pulling at Ben’s clothes. He surrendered to Chance’s advances and allowed himself to be led to their bedroom. Chance tossed Ben to the mattress and peeled off his clothes. He then dove onto Ben’s bare chest, kissing his skin. Ben moaned and grasped Chance’s hair. Ben guided Chance lower, encouraging him to envelop Ben’s erection with his mouth. Ben thrust into the inviting warmth, so happy at the rare contact. He wanted to feel everything but feared that he might already be on the edge of release.

He pulled Chance up to kiss him, their erections pressing together through Chance’s pants. Ben desperately clawed at Chance’s clothes until they were naked together. Chance rubbed his pelvis against Ben, and Ben’s erection throbbed urgently. Chance reached down and grasped both their shafts, smashing them together. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so physically excited. He dipped down, pecking Chance’s torso until he reached his lover’s erection. He took Chance’s shaft into his mouth, earning a gasp.

Chance frantically flipped Ben, so he could get his mouth around Ben’s cock, and they traded attention equally, both moaning at the other’s eager sucking. Ben couldn’t remember the last time they’d been joined this way, and it felt divine. He found himself reaching climax before long and tried desperately to delay the inevitable. Soon he felt the first wave of Chance’s release build. He tasted the first drops of Chance’s precome and growled hungrily. That tipped Chance over the precipice, and his erection jumped, spraying a hot torrent in Ben’s mouth. With Chance satisfied, Ben finally let himself go. They coaxed every ounce of feeling and liquid from one another.

When they finally pulled apart, exhausted and panting, Ben felt a light sheen of perspiration drying on his skin, happy that it was a result of sex for a change. Chance didn’t lie next to Ben for long before jumping up and dashing to the bathroom. He returned with a moist rag in each hand, using one to clean himself while the other he tossed to Ben. They’d just given each other head, swallowing the product of that act, and yet Chance was still squeamish about sharing a washcloth. Ben shook his head as he reclined into his pillows. Chance took both washcloths back to the bathroom. Ben heard the water running for a moment, and then Chance reappeared and slipped under the covers next to Ben. Chance wrapped himself around Ben’s torso, and Ben sighed as he petted Chance’s sex-tousled hair. Ben closed his eyes, more content than he’d felt in quite some time and drifted off to sleep.

B
EN
AWOKE
unsurprisingly to an empty bed. He could hear the shower, Chance already getting ready for work. Ben decided to make him breakfast before he got out of the shower, wanting to hold onto last night’s magic as long as he could. He jumped out of bed and dressed quickly, then ran downstairs. He grabbed a loaf of whole wheat bread and popped four slices into the toaster. Then he put a pan on the burner and pulled out a carton of eggs. He cracked four into a bowl and sprayed the pan with nonstick cooking oil. He retrieved some shredded cheese and leftover diced veggies from a Tupperware container and threw them in with the eggs. He mixed the concoction up with a fork and tipped it into the pan. The liquid sizzled as it hit the cooking spray, and the scent instantly reached Ben’s nose.

He stretched over and fished a plastic spatula from a drawer. Ben slipped the spatula under the edge of the eggs, peeling it up as he traced the outside of the pan. He flicked his wrist and the flat disc of eggs flopped into the air, flipped, and landed back in the pan.
Chance is going to love this
, Ben thought as he dashed to the fridge and peeled six strips of bacon from the plastic sleeve. He popped them in the microwave on a paper towel. Not the fanciest way to make bacon, but he’d just heard the water shut off in the shower, and he knew Chance would be down in no time.

The toast jumped up, dark brown and hot. Ben switched off the stove, got a knife and the little tub of Olivio, then spread the yellow butter substitute onto the toast. He cut the toast in half diagonally just the way Chance liked it. The microwave beeped just as Ben got two plates out of the cupboard. He used the spatula to fold the eggs in the pan, chopped them in half, and lifted a portion onto each plate. Then he tucked the toast next to the eggs before he grabbed the bacon, burning his fingers in the process. Chance’s footsteps echoed on the back stairs. Ben pulled two small glasses from the cupboard opposite the plates and then poured orange juice into each.

Ben stepped back and surveyed the quickly prepared breakfast. He smiled. Chance appeared with his jacket thrown over his arm. Ben beamed, waiting for Chance to notice the meal on the table. “Morning, hon,” Chance said.

“Good morning,” Ben responded enthusiastically. “Hungry?”

“Not really,” Chance answered as he fluttered about the kitchen gathering his phone, wallet, and keys.

Ben deflated. “I made eggs.”

Chance gulped down a glass of orange juice. “Not a big fan of eggs.” Chance pecked a kiss on Ben’s cheek as he grabbed a slice of toast. He held it in his teeth as he picked up his overcoat and messenger bag. “See you tonight,” he said around the toast. He dashed out like a whirlwind.

Ben raised a hand in farewell. He stood silently in the suddenly still kitchen. “Not a big fan of eggs? Since when?” Ben sat down, tipping Chance’s eggs and bacon onto his own plate. “Damn,” he said, then decided he’d do an extra half mile on his run as he finished off both breakfasts.

“H
E
JUST
ignored the eggs?” Lena asked as they sat on the benches outside of T.C. McFlannigan’s.

“He said he’s not a big fan of eggs,” Ben replied.

“Who’s not a big fan of eggs? They’re eggs, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know. What was I thinking?” Ben rested his chin in his hand. “Last night was so great. And then the sex. I thought everything would go back to normal.”

“I’m sure he was just worried about what he had to do at work.” Lena lit another cigarette. “It wasn’t like he was trying to hurt your feelings or anything.”

“I know. I’m being overly sensitive, aren’t I?” Ben asked.

“Maybe. Be more of a dude and don’t worry about it,” Lena stated. Sometimes Lena could accidentally be extremely insightful.

“That’s actually pretty good advice.” Ben sat up straighter. “Going out tonight?”

“I don’t know. Is it a day that ends in
y
?” Lena looked at her wrist as if there were a watch there. “Oh, look at that. It is! I guess I am.”

Ben threw an arm around his friend. “At least I can count on you to never change,” he said, squeezing her shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” Lena said with a slap to Ben’s leg.

“Hey, don’t start being a good employee now.”

“Never.” Lena laughed lightly as they walked back into the restaurant.

T
HURSDAYS
WERE
Wing-A-Ding-Ding Nights at McFlannigan’s, and the dining room was packed. On nights like this, Ben helped his servers by picking up the slack, running drinks and generally making himself available to them. He’d been giving Janine, the hostess, a break, greeting customers and finding tables for them when he saw something that caught his breath.

Brodie the Bartender approached the hostess podium with a very attractive blond companion. Like Brodie, his companion was heavily pierced and tattooed. The young man had a single streak of blue in his hair. Ben could feel his cheeks flush even as his veins seemed to run with ice. Was it jealousy he was feeling? He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the breath to say anything. He could only manage pasting a vacant grin onto his lips. Years of food service made the expression a reflex.

“Ben?” Brodie’s smile was completely genuine, if a little surprised. “What’s up?”

“H-hi. Welcome to T.C. McFlannigan’s Funstaurant. Are you ready for a fun food fest?” Ben winced at his automatic reaction. He shook his head. “Hey, Brodie. Sorry. Autopilot. I’ve been saying it all night.”

“That’s cool, man. I get it. This is my friend Braden.” Brodie indicated the blond man.

“Hey.” Braden offered a hand, and Ben shook it.

“Hey. So can I get you guys a table? Just two?” Ben asked, hoping the answer would be no.

“Yep,” Brodie responded.

“Great,” Ben lied, and put on the false smile again. “This way.” He grabbed two menus and showed Brodie and his date to a table near the window in Lena’s section. “Lena will be your server. She’ll be around to get your drink orders. Enjoy, okay?” Ben left them and immediately sought out Lena.

“What’s up?” Lena asked.

Ben’s shock must’ve been evident on his face. “He’s here.”

“Who’s here?”

“I sat him in your section,” Ben said.

“Who? Sat who in my section? Ben, take a breath,” Lena instructed him, grasping his bicep.

“Brodie.” Ben placed his hand on Lena’s.

“What? Brodie the Bartender?”

“Yeah. He’s on a date.”

“Oh,” Lena said, realization dawning on her face. “You’re jealous.”

“Damn it, Lena. No I’m not.”

“Then why’d you sit him in my section?”

“’Cause you kind of know him,” Ben answered. “And so you can listen in, find out if it’s serious?”

“Jesus, Ben!” Lena whisper-screamed at him. “You want me to spy on him?”

“What? No.” Ben thought for a second. Had he just lied to her? No. No, he was being absurd. “No. I was just kidding. Never mind. Just go take their drink order.” Lena rushed off clucking her teeth.

“Y
OU
’
RE
NEVER
going to believe this,” Lena said five minutes later, after finding him changing soda kegs in the basement.

“What?” Ben asked.

“Chance is here.”

“What?” Ben stumbled back, tripped over a soda keg, and went sprawling, knocking over a stack of Funtilla chip cases in the process. “Shit,” Ben spat as he tried to extricate himself from the cases. “Quit laughing,” Ben ordered Lena.

“I’m sorry. It’s just hilarious.” She covered her mouth as Ben pushed past her to return to the dining room.

“What table is he at?” Ben asked. “Is he alone?”

“No, he’s got a couple of friends.”

“What?” That didn’t sound like Chance. Ben would have been less surprised if Chance had walked in with his laptop and earphones. “That’s weird.”

“He’s sitting at the table behind your bartender.”

“What?” Ben spun on her. “Who the hell did that?”

“Janine. She didn’t know.” Lena held up her hands in surrender.

“And he’s not
my
bartender,” Ben hissed.

“My mistake,” Lena sneered.

B
EN
EMERGED
from the basement and searched the tables for Chance. Thankfully he didn’t see Brodie. “They’re in a band together,” Lena said from behind Ben.

“Chance?”

“No, Brodie and that dude. They’re not a couple. They’re in a band together.”

Ben felt totally relieved. “I don’t care,” he said. “Chance.” Ben stopped at their booth. “What’s up?”

“Oh. Hey, Ben,” Chance stood. “This is my roommate, Ben, guys.”

Ben winced at the word roommate, but the smile stayed plastered on his face. “Hey, all.”

“This is Winner7, KoraktheDestroyer,” Chance introduced as he indicated the men sitting around the table.

“Uh,” Ben muttered.

“Oh geez,” Chance said and chuckled. “I forgot we’re not online. This is Dave and Martin.” Each man stood and shook Ben’s hand. Chance continued, “And this is Dormouse29; Chuck.”

“Hi, Chuck. Nice to meet you,” Ben said.

“Likewise,” Chuck answered. “Chance has told me a lot about you.”

“Ben,” someone called from behind them.

Shit, Brodie
. “Brodie, something I can get for you?” Ben asked in his best manager voice.

“Nope, we’re good.” Brodie stepped up beside Ben and regarded Chance. “Is this the boyfriend?” Brodie asked.

“No!” Ben and Chance barked in unison, both totally mortified. Brodie had just outed Chance in front of his friends.

“Nope. No boyfriend. Chance is my roommate,” Ben explained trying to sound calm.