Authors: Christina Brunkhorst
Torn (25 page)
After dating for two years –– and while he had dated her exclusively, she hadn’t exactly done the same –– he brought her “home to meet the family” and proposed to her in the attic of his parents’ home.
Having met his parents, Jennifer could appreciate the why and the where of Ty’s attitude regarding marriage as sacred. Such a couple, in love like newlyweds even after forty or so years of marriage, was a tough standard to follow. Especially living in Hollywood. Her parents had divorced after being married for five years. She’d been three.
She’d been caught up in the moment and said yes, enjoying the fact that while Ty’s female fans might hate her for “stealing their man” at least they wouldn’t call her brainless.
And so they’d had their lavish, three million-dollar wedding.
Their first year as husband and wife passed smoothly, romantically, and Jennifer was still in love with the idea of being married and in love with Ty Benson. But shortly after celebrating their second anniversary, the novelty started to fade.
Things that Ty did –– little things, like passing gas in bed –– before they were married, no longer even remotely amused her and, in fact, pissed her off. Things that she did –– like spend over ten grand on “casual” clothing, five grand on face cream –– before they were married, set Ty’s teeth on edge… Which was partly why she did it. The other reason was because she was a clothes-horse-shop-o-holic who had to maintain her appearance.
Then other men started catching her eye… Hell, even other women. Ty didn’t know about her forays into bisexuality, but Julie did.
Jennifer rolled eyes. Julie Bishop. That dyke butch. It was amazing how small and intimate the gay community in their area actually was. Seemed there were no secrets.
Julie had threatened to tell Ty.
Now while Ty was friends with Julie and, as such, also had many friends inside the gay community, Jennifer knew he would flip out. It wouldn’t matter whether she cheated on him with a man or a woman… Hell, he was male, wasn’t he? He’d probably
pay
to see her with another woman. But he’d view her cheating on him as a declaration that she no longer was in love with him. And, probably, her cheating on him with another woman as a threat to his “leading man” status. She’d never leave Ty for a woman, of course, but still, a rep was everything where they lived.
But life was good as Mrs. Ty Benson. Established in her career in her own right, life was already quite fine. But doors opened for
Mrs
. Ty Benson that had never opened for Jennifer Green.
So she’d begged his lesbo watchdog not to tell him. And
grudgingly
, Julie had agreed –– but only because she “didn’t want Ty hurt”.
Julie had never liked her even while she and Ty were dating. Now, it was clear that Julie hated her. The feeling was mutual, of course, and Jennifer could care less. However, she was convinced that Julie’s obvious loathing of his wife was a weak link in her marriage to Ty.
And she
did
actually care about him. Which was why she’d been discreet about her affairs with other people during their relationship. But then she’d met Marco.
Marco had a taste for kinky and he’d only whetted her own appetite for adventurous sex. She’d gone to his villa in the Greek islands, and had two weeks worth of incredible, hot, sweaty monkey sex with him… And apparently the rest of the world, thanks to the telephoto lens of paparazzi.
Jennifer had come home to a furious Ty, who’d been shaking with jealous rage. What a turn on… got her hot just remembering how he’d looked. All taut and hard… A masterpiece of male testosterone and sexuality. They’d fought, then had the most intense, amazing, angry sex of her life –– she’d never climaxed so hard… ever. Hadn’t since.
In the morning, Ty was gone. Straight to his pet bulldog protector, Julie.
It was a long time before Jennifer was able to convince him to come back. And to her surprise, she found that she’d actually missed him. That she truly was afraid that their friendship was over.
But they’d made up. Did the counseling bit. However, things had definitely changed between them.
Sighing, Jennifer looked at her husband, who looked miserable alone with his new global phone. They never should have gotten married. Well, she was going to put both of them out of their suffering. As soon as they returned to the continental United States, she was filing for divorce. Irreconcilable differences. Sweet freedom. Worked for her.
“Ty? You okay?” she asked again, her voice soft and low.
He gave a minute shake of his head. So small, that if her hand hadn’t been braced on his shoulder as she stepped down from the trailer to join him, she wouldn’t have known that he’d moved. But the taut muscles she so enjoyed had rippled under her palm.
Sitting down, Jennifer glanced over him. Her brow furrowed with concern, then smoothed and wrinkled in amazement as both slender brows rose to her hairline. Good God, were those
tears
? And over this–this
nobody
from Montana! And instead of turning her away when she sat down next to him –– gracelessly in her disbelief –– Ty wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her closer until his head lay against her abdomen.
He said something, but it was muffled against the rust colored T-shirt she wore. “What?” she asked.
“I love her, Jen. I love her.”
Dear God, and he
did
too! She could
feel
it vibrate from him in unseen waves. Could practically
see
it pulsate in the air around him. And it was painful. Painful to watch. He really needed to get a grip.
“Ty…” Even as she rolled her eyes, Jennifer slipped her arms around his shoulders, hugged him close, sighed. They had been friends once. They had grown closer through working on this movie together. Things would never be the same between them, but they were friendly again. Tyler Benson
was
a good man, sometimes in spite of himself. He deserved someone who loved him, who could love him as intensely as he loved. And by god, she would see that he got that love. It would be her farewell gift. But it would be on
her
terms. And for that to happen, she needed to know.
With a tender grasp, she raised his chin from her stomach. Her eyes were filled with compassion as she looked at her soon-to-be-ex husband. “What happened?”
With a sigh and a tight smile, Tyler told her.
T
he knock on his door at this late hour didn’t phase him. But then, after getting the shock of his life –– Jennifer, herself, serving divorce papers for him to sign upon their return to California –– Tyler didn’t think that there was much left that could surprise him.
He opened the door to his modest –– if one could call the Beverly Hills Hotel Bungalow Number Five, the four-bedroom Presidential Bungalow with its own private lap pool
modest
–– temporary home after pulling on a pair of jeans, and turning on the overhead light, and grinned. “Hey, Jules! Welcome back!”
Julie stepped into the room, the heels of her stiletto pumps lightly sinking into the plush, vanilla cream pile. “About freaking time, bachelor.”
Tyler laughed –– a sound that carried much less weight in it than it had in the previous month in Alaska. “Don’t tell me that the news of Jennifer divorcing me managed to make it all the way to the ‘Mother Country’!”
“Well, no, smart-ass,” Julie admitted. “But once I hit Europe on my way back to the States?” Her head swayed side-to-side in amazement. “I was bombarded with reporters. As if
I
had anything to do with it! Forget the AIDS epidemic in Africa, or finding a cure for cancer… Ty and Jennifer Benson are
divorcing
!”
“Even more amazing, if you can believe it,” she continued, “was the fact that it was
Jennifer
who divorced
you
! How in the
world
did you manage to pull that coup?”
Tyler rubbed the back of his neck as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Actually, Jen and I did pretty good together in Alaska. We had a lot of time to talk and we found the answers to a lot of the questions we had in our relationship.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “Yeah. And I’m glad we did. I’m not saying we’re buddies like we were when we first got together, and I don’t see us ever being the friends we once were, but at least we care again.”
Julie raised a skeptical brow. “You don’t say.”
“And I told her about Chelsea and me.”
The other finely arched, gold eyebrow joined the first. “You did
what
?”
“I told her. And it felt good too. Jen actually gave me some good advice.”
“Oh, I’m
so
sure.”
Tyler laughed. “She did!”
“Okay, whatever. So while you guys played ‘true confessions’… Did Jennifer tell you about her sexual penchant for women and foursomes?”
“
What
?” Tyler’s cobalt eyes widened.
“Foursomes?
Penchant? She said it was just once, and a
menage a trois!”
Julie snorted. “Yeah it was once… Once each time. Once with each person… once all together now…”
“I
get
it.” Tyler’s eyes widened. “You knew this and you didn’t
tell
me? No wonder your friends would wink at me like we shared a secret whenever I ran into them!”
“Hey, I
tried
,” Julie declared, “but it’s kind of a difficult subject to broach, Ty. I mean, how would
you
tell your best friend that his wife is a freaky sex-fiend?”
“Right,” Julie managed to say once she’d stopped howling with laughter, “and I’m sure you gave her your blessing for John, Peter, Paul,
and
Mary!”
Julie paused in the act of lighting a slender cigar. “She did
what
?”
“She called Chelsea. Explained everything about that damn spread in
People
, told her that we were getting a divorce.”
The lit cigar dangled, precariously, from a slack jaw. “She fucking did
not
.”
Tyler crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “She did.”
Julie sat down in one of the delicate chairs provided by the hotel. “Go on. What did Chelsea say?”
Tyler’s arms fell loose at his sides. “Chelsea didn’t
say
anything.” He crossed the room, opened a dresser, and retrieved a padded manila envelope. It had his name and address written in Chelsea’s handwriting, on the front, her return address clearly marked, mail stamp from Black Creek, Montana. He handed the envelope to Julie.
“But she sent this.”
Puzzled, Julie reached inside, withdrew a videotape and some photographs. “What’s this?” She turned the photographs over and answered her own question. “Oh, my God, she sent you her ultrasound photos?”
“And a video,” Tyler added, his chest only marginally puffed out.
“Tyler, do you know what this means?”
His lips twitched. Julie had called him by his full name. She
never
called him Tyler. He must have truly floored her.
“It means that the babies she’s carrying
are
mine,” he declared, just as she stated the same.
Carefully, his best friend returned both video and photographs to Tyler, who placed them back in the dresser drawer. He then opened another drawer, took out a shirt, and pulled it on.
Still stunned, Julie watched her friend as he finished getting dressed, as he slipped his arms into a light brown leather blazer. “What are you doing?”
Tyler paused in the act of grabbing his wallet and keys. “You and I are going out to celebrate. I’m free to be with Chelsea, and I’m about to be a daddy… twice!”
“But––“
“But nothing. It’s Halloween and I’m ready to trick-or-treat. So let’s go play some pool! Oh –– and
you’re
treating.”
~ *~
An hour later, Tyler and Julie were playing their sixth game of pool in their favorite gay bar and as he steered her to the bar for their next round of drinks, she grumbled, “How did I get tricked into this?”
“Never mind.” Julie picked up their drinks, left a tip for the bartender, and handed Tyler his glass of scotch. She watched, appreciating the smooth movements of his body as he lined up the next shot. Being gay didn’t mean not having an eye for taste, beauty, and style. Ty Benson had all three… In spades.
“Oh, by the way,” she began, pausing to take a sip from her own scotch, ice clinking in the heavy glass, “the date for the premiere has been pushed up to November seventh.”
Tyler’s cue skittered over the ball and his shot went wild. His head turned fast to look at his friend, his eyes panicked. “That’s in seven days.”
“I know.”
“Chelsea will be here in seven days.”
“
With
Jake,” Julie, ever the devil’s advocate, pointed out.
The cue stick fell onto the table with a light clatter. “I don’t have a plan!” He ran suddenly shaky hands through his blonde hair, leaned in to one of the pool players at the table across from them. “Hey, can I bum a smoke?”
“Thanks.” Tyler took the cigarette offered and stuck it in his mouth. He accepted the flame the drag queen held out for him and inhaled deeply. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he smiled. “Thanks, man.” The gorgeous queen stared at him and Tyler smiled, turned on the charm, complete with dimples. “Thank you,
Ma’am
,” he corrected.