Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3)

by Samantha Kane

“Nope, not interested,” Ben interjected quickly. “No friends. No hookups, no introductions.”

  “Got it,” Tripp said, pointing at him and winking. “No worries.”

  Ben looked around at his friends, who were studiously avoiding his gaze. Even Dean Lanier was staring up the sky.

  “Oh, I’ve got worries all right,” he said.

  Two

  When his phone rang, Ben absently glanced at the screen and was unprepared for his stomach to go into freefall when he saw Tripp Lanier’s name there. Even though they’d exchanged phone numbers Ben hadn’t expected to hear from him despite their shared interests. Especially not on Friday, which was traditionally a date night. Which he wasn’t doing right now. And definitely not with Tripp, because he wasn’t gay.

  “Take five,” he said to the group of training supervisors in the conference room. “Hello,” he answered the phone, hoping his firm voice disguised his nervousness.

  “Hey there, Ben,” Tripp said. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine, fine,” Ben said, moving off to the side of the overcrowded room seeking a little privacy. “And you?”

  “Same old, same old,” Tripp said. “Look, a bunch of us are going out tonight. You want to come?”

  “Who? Where?” Ben asked in surprise, glancing over at the others in the room. They were all chatting or checking their phones, and a few had left the room, presumably to go to the bathroom or get snacks. No one was paying attention to him. He felt relieved, which made no sense because he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Taking a phone call from a friend in the middle of a meeting was something people did all the time, right? An acquaintance, actually. He barely knew Tripp.

  “Just a few guys. A bar over in Lumberton,” Tripp said. “Not too far.”

  “I’m not much into the bar scene,” Ben said quietly into the phone, his back to the room, shoulders hunched, arms crossed. He knew his body language screamed “keep away”, but he didn’t care.

  “Me neither,” Tripp said. “It’s more a sports bar, games on TVs, darts and pool, that sort of thing. Not a big pick-up spot or anything. We’re just gonna hang out.”

  “Oh,” Ben said. “Well, I guess that sounds good. I can meet you there.”

  “No, sir,” Tripp said with a laugh. “I don’t want you to get lost. I’ll come and get you. Where do you live?”

  “What time?” Ben asked. “I’ll be here until at least seven. I’ve got a crew of new people here from California, and I’m in meetings all day.”

  “I can pick you up there,” Tripp said agreeably. “The new site, right? We’ve still got some people doing work over there.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “Okay. At seven?”

  “As close to it as I can get,” Tripp said. Ben heard voices in the background. “See you.” Tripp hung up without waiting for Ben to say goodbye.

  Ben tried not to think about his new plans for the evening as he turned back to the room with a nervous smile. Only five more hours to go. What had been a pleasant, productive meeting suddenly seemed like a wasted day. As soon as he had the thought, he felt like an idiot, the new kid in school getting all excited about his new friends and hoping they’d like him. He was pathetic.

  At exactly seven o’clock, Tripp stepped into the doorway of Ben’s office. “Ready?” he said.

  Ben shut down his computer and stood up. “I was just waiting for you,” he said. “I hope I’m dressed all right.”

  He had on his typical work outfit, dressy jeans with a white button down, and a black tie. He’d taken off his suit coat. Tripp was wearing faded jeans and a plain, light blue polo shirt with Lanier Construction embroidered on the left in navy blue. Ben had seen guys wearing that shirt all over the building site for months and he hadn’t given them a second glance. But on Tripp it looked hotter than hell.

  Not for the first time Ben wished he had the sort of looks that Tripp possessed, or Brian or Trey, or even Connor. When they walked into a room, people stopped and stared. When Ben walked into a room, someone usually walked into him because he faded into the background so well.

  He gave Tripp a self-conscious smile. “When I got ready this morning I was thinking meetings with computer programmers all day, not night out on the town.”

  “It’s Lumberton,” Tripp said. “I don’t think there’s a dress code.” He laughed, and Ben was amazed again at how effortlessly appealing he was. He seemed to laugh his way through life, which seemed a good way to do things.

  Had Ben ever been that young and confident? Tripp looked like he had the world by the tail, or whatever that saying was. Ben had never felt that way. He’d met Roland while he was still in school, and it seemed as if every minute of his adult life had been based on whether or not it was good for the two of them, not just Ben. One thing he had enjoyed the past year was the freedom to make selfish decisions. He felt foolishly immature when he did so, since that indulgence was for guys Tripp’s age, but he’d missed out on a lot things by tying himself to Roland so young.

  “You look a little uptight in the shirt and tie,” Tripp continued, “but we can overlook it this once if you promise not to mention that my friends mostly look like jobless hobos.”

  “Deal,” Ben said, grinning. “How about if I roll up my sleeves?”

  “I recommend it,” Tripp said. “Hotter than Hades out there still. Summer don’t pay no mind to the calendar down here.”

  “That’s for sure,” Ben said. “I’m still getting used to the heat.”

  “It’s not the heat,” Tripp said. “It’s the humidity.”

  “If I’ve heard that once this summer, I’ve heard it a thousand times,” Ben said. “I don’t care which one it is, it’s hot.”

  “Come on then,” Tripp said, opening the door to the outside. A gust of hot air hit Ben in the face. “Let’s cool you off with a cold beer.”

  Luke, Tripp’s best friend, took a long pull on his beer and stared at Ben. He was the quintessential good old boy, a clone of half the men Ben had met in Mercury, with his NASCAR T-shirt and a camo baseball hat with a big fish on it. Ben was fascinated by his bushy, ginger beard.

  “So, the gay thing? How’s that going?” Luke finally asked.

  Ben choked on his beer and his eyes watered as he coughed. He’d been innocently watching a race on TV, trying to figure out what was going on. The bar was like a hundred others he’d been to before, except the sports on the TVs included NASCAR and a hunting show on the Outdoor Channel. Luke’s question came out of the blue.

  “Fine, thanks,” Ben croaked in response. “And the heterosexual thing? How’s that going?”

  “Not so good,” Luke said glumly. “I had a girl up in Fayetteville, but she’s in the Army and she shipped out.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ben said, feeling like an idiot. “You must be worried.”

  “Nah,” Luke said. “It wasn’t serious or nothin’. We were just screwing to pass the time. But now I got no prospects.”

  “Then I guess we’re in the same boat,” Ben said. “I’ve got no prospects either.”

  “Funny you should say that,” Luke said with a wink. He indicated the door of the bar with his bottle. “Want you to meet someone.”

  “Oh God,” Ben said in horror, understanding dawning. “This is a fix up. You’re trying to fix me up.” He stood up quickly. “No. No, no, no.”

  “He ain’t that bad,” Luke said. “I’ve known him my whole life. He can be a bit of an asshole, but he cleans up good and he’s got a job.”

  Ben closed his eyes. Unbelievable. He’d been worried about Brian and John and Evan trying to set him up, when he should have been worried about the locals.

  “Hey, Luke,” someone said from behind him. “Who’s this?”

  Ben opened his eyes and met Tripp’s stare. He was standing a few feet away, where he’d been talking with a couple of people Ben didn’t know yet. At Ben’s glare, Tripp blushed and shrugged.

  “This here’s Ben, Tripp’s new friend,” Luke said. “Turn arou
nd and meet Carver, Ben.”

  Ben slowly turned. Carver was about the same height as he was, maybe an inch closer to six feet than Ben’s five foot nine inches. He had shoulder-length brown hair tucked behind his pierced ears and wore a faded Myrtle Beach T-shirt and cargo shorts. Luke was right, he looked clean.

  “How do you do?” Ben asked, reaching out to shake his hand.

  “Are you the gay one?” Carver asked, looking him up and down as they shook.

  “Yep. I take it you are too?” he asked politely.

  “Yep,” Carver said. He let go of Ben’s hand and waved the waitress down. “In Luke’s little brain, that means we should hook up because I’m pretty sure we’re the only two gay guys he knows.”

  “True enough,” Luke said. “But don’t turn it into no Brokeback Mountain.”

  Carver sighed. “I’ve told you, being gay isn’t always like Brokeback Mountain,” he said. “Would you get over that movie?”

  “Fucking tragic,” Luke said. “Okay. My job here is done.” He shoved his chair back from the table and stood up. “I’m a gonna go find a prospect,” he announced, and turned to make his way over to a table of twenty-something girls who’d been giving Tripp the eye all night.

  “Awkward,” Carver said. He pulled out a chair and sat down and indicated Ben should take his seat again. “So, we’re here and I’m going to order some wings. I’m starving. Tell me about yourself.”

  Carver was so matter-of-fact that Ben found himself relaxing. “I’m project manager at the new Turnstiles data center in Mercury,” Ben said.

  “That’s what you do,” Carver said. “Now tell me about yourself.”

  That took Ben aback. He had to think for a minute.

  “I’m from California,” he began. The waitress stopped by and Carver ordered a beer and some wings, and got Ben another beer too. Then Carver waved his hand in a circular motion to indicate Ben should keep going. “I’m thirty, unmarried, no kids, Jewish, and completely out of my element,” Ben said.

  “So unmarried, thirty-year old Ben, it sounds like Mercury is winning,” Carver said with a grin.

  “Oh no,” Ben said firmly. “I refuse to concede. I will master Mercury if it’s the last thing I do.” Carver laughed, and Ben knew they were going to be friends if nothing else.

  “Well, getting up with Tripp was probably the best thing you could do,” Carver said. “He knows everyone, and we all love him.” He winked at Ben, and for some reason Ben got flustered.

  “I haven’t gotten up with Tripp,” he said. “I mean, he’s great, you know, kind of showing me around a bit. Evan introduced us. I’ve sort of kept to myself since I moved here, and Evan asked Tripp to take care of me, I think. I guess he and Brian were sick of having me underfoot.”

  “You mean Reverend Michaels?” Carver asked. “He likes to take care of folks, doesn’t he? Whether they want him to or not.” The waitress brought his wings and their beers, and Carver smiled at her as she set them down.

  “You keeping out of trouble, Carver?” she asked, laughing, waggling her eyebrows as she looked between him and Ben.

  “Hell no,” Carver said. “Chasing it.”

  “That’s our Carver,” she said before she walked off, shaking her head.

  “You don’t like Evan?” Ben asked curiously. “I thought everyone liked Evan.”

  “He’s a little too holier-than-thou for me,” Carver said. He shrugged. “But I don’t not like him. Just don’t think about him much.”

  “He’s a great guy,” Evan said. “In spite of the religion thing. My mother worries he’s going to ‘turn me Christian’.”

  Carver had been about to take a bite but had to put his wing down he laughed so hard at that. “Gay’s all right,” he asked, “but not Christian?”

  “As far as my Jewish mother is concerned,” Ben said, nodding.

  “You are a fish out of water,” Carver agreed. He took a bite of his wing and watched Ben while he chewed. Ben watched him back, waiting.

  “You haven’t asked about me,” Carver said, wiping his mouth.

  Ben blushed. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just sort of figured after I talked about myself, you’d talk about yourself.”

  “Not much to tell,” Carver said. He took a drink of his beer. “I’m a carpenter. I do a lot of special order case goods and cabinetry. I only came out about a year ago, so people are still adjusting, like Luke. His heart is in the right place.” He paused, staring at his beer bottle. “Confession—when I first came out, I hit on Evan Michaels. He piously informed me he didn’t have casual sex but thanks very much. That’s why it’s awkward between us.” He shook his head and smiled sheepishly at Ben. “Anyway, the most interesting thing about me is Melody. She’s my two-year old daughter, from when I was still trying to fake it, and I love her beyond rational thought.”

  “Her mom?” Ben asked, curious how that had played out.

  “We were never married. She took off for Asheville not long after she had Melody, so I have custody and we live with my folks. I don’t have much time for a personal life. Which is why I cut to the chase, as you may have noticed.”

  “I did,” Ben said. “I found it refreshing.”

  “Good. I’m also kind of new at this.” He pointed back and forth between them and grinned. “Like really new. But I can tell there’s nothing here, is there?” He glanced behind Ben. “Gee, I wonder why?”

  “What are you two talking about?” Tripp asked. He grabbed Luke’s abandoned chair, turned it around, and swung his leg over to straddle it backwards. He rested his arms along the back of the chair as he looked between them.

  Ben stared at Tripp’s tattooed left arm. Starting at his wrist, tall black pine trees stretched up his forearm almost to his elbow, with a background that looked like sunset behind them, black birds flying out of the trees. It was starkly beautiful. Captain America’s brightly colored shield protected his elbow. The spaces not covered by those tattoos had abstract tribal designs, some black, some brightly colored, and there was a mystery tattoo on his biceps just peeking out under his sleeve as well.

  “Hooking up,” Carver answered Tripp, jerking Ben out of his obsession with Tripp’s tattoos. Carver picked up another wing and started eating it. He nodded at the basket, offering Ben some of his food, as if they were on a date.

  “No thanks,” Ben said.

  Tripp was frowning. “Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, “and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “No?” Carver said in between bites. “Why not?”

  Yeah, Ben wondered. Why not?

  “Well,” Tripp said. “I like Ben.” He grabbed one of Carver’s wings. “He likes to do the same stuff I do. I haven’t had a chance to show him all the good bike trails. And there’s the Spartan Race at Fort Bragg in a couple of weeks. Who am I going to do that with if not you guys?”

  “I’m doing the Spartan Race?” Ben asked, not really following. “And you should probably have asked me about it before now. Just saying.”

  “If you two hook up, I’ll never get to see you,” Tripp continued, ignoring Ben’s question. “You’re both guys. Sex always trumps. So let’s say I want to go to the Spartan Race, but Carver’s got an itch and he gives you a booty call. Then you’re going to Carver’s and I’m stuck with no partners for the race. See?” He proceeded to eat the wing, looking very happy with his logic.

  “Because I’m clearly the sort of guy who answers booty calls,” Ben said, nodding. “Yes, I see your point.” He got a stupid thrill from Tripp’s desire to see him again, as if he was back in high school and the coolest kid had called his name while picking teams.

  “Uh huh,” Carver said skeptically. “The Spartan Race? Really? Don’t you think it’s a little too early in the relationship for the Spartan Race? Maybe you ought to build up to that. A little mountain biking or hiking, some motocross or ATVs over near Sanford, and then he can take on the Spartan Race. But too much too soon will k
ill the love, Tripp.”

  “Too much of what?” Ben asked warily, put on guard by Carver’s tone. He determinedly ignored Carver’s mention of love and relationships.

  “Fire, water, mud, barbed wire, you name it,” Carver said. “Anything goes in the Spartan Race. And those military boys over there live for it. That race will kick your ass.”

  Ben felt the thrill of anticipation. “No shit?” he said with a grin at Tripp, who grinned right back.

  “No shit,” he said. “You in?”

  “Oh, hell yeah,” Ben said eagerly.

  “Oh God,” Carver groaned. “Another one. You didn’t mention you had a death wish when you were telling me about yourself.”

  “‘Live like you were dying’,” Ben said, quoting one of the only country songs he knew.

  “I can’t date a guy who takes risks like that,” Carver said with a smile. “Tripp, your new buddy is safe from me.”

  “Great,” Ben teased, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, Tripp. The only piece of ass within five hundred miles and you’ve scared him off.”

  “You just let old Tripp take care of you,” he said. “I did you a huge favor. Besides, Carver’s on my Spartan Race team too. It’ll be me, you, him, and Luke.”

  Just then, a loud bang behind him made Ben turn around. The table full of girls was laughing at Luke, who had just tumbled backwards in his chair. Two of them got up to help him off the floor. Luke seemed like the sort of guy whose bumbling made him charming to women.

  “Come on,” Tripp said with a sigh. “Time to take Luke home. Fixing you two up was his idea.”

  “Why you listen to him, I don’t know,” Carver said. He took the last sip of his beer and set it down as he stood up. “I’ve got to go anyway. Mom’s watching Melody, but she had my sister’s kids all day too, and I hate to take advantage.” He stuck out his hand and shook Ben’s. “Nice to meet you, Ben. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “Just because I’m not allowed to answer your booty calls doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Ben said solemnly. “Don’t be a stranger.” Carver laughed as he waved and walked off.