Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3)

by Samantha Kane

  “My boy’s in love with you, you know,” she said, setting her wine glass down on the island.

  Ben choked and grabbed the napkin she held out, coughing into it as his eyes watered. He shook his head, incapable of speech for the moment.

  “You don’t think so?” Loreene asked. “Well, the parties involved are usually the last to know.”

  “What…why would you think that?” Ben asked, his voice scratchy from choking.

  “Well, there’s the fact he asked you to go waterskiing with us,” she said, ticking her reasons off on her fingers. “And you did the race with him, and he invited you over here to have dinner with us—he’s never done that before—and the rumors going around town, and, oh, yeah, he told me.” She took a sip of her wine and watched Ben carefully.

  “He…he told you?” Ben asked incredulously. “Don’t you think that’s something he should have maybe run by me first?”

  “That’s what I told him, but he said you were resisting the inevitable.”

  “And this doesn’t strike you as strange, that not only does Tripp decide practically overnight that he’s gay, but that he’s in love with me?”

  “Aw, hell,” she said dismissively, “we always figured he was probably gay.”

  “What?” The evening had taken the most bizarre turn, and in desperation Ben grabbed another biscuit, hoping to get back to food and wine.

  “He was never really interested in girls,” she said with a shrug. “Though God knows they were after him night and day. Shameless, really. Calling him all night long, driving over here and hollering up at his window. And that’s just what I saw. I’m sure he had it worse when his mama wasn’t around.”

  She put on oven mitts and pulled a bubbling pie out of the oven. “But not once has he ever brought one over. He went to prom stag.” She set the pie down on a cooling rack and shook her head. “He wasn’t into singing and dancing or fashion, or any of those red flags. But still, by this time we figured he’d have found at least one girl to like if he was into that. Don’t you think so? And then you show up and he’s ass over teakettle.” She pulled off the oven mitts and tossed them onto the island. “So it wasn’t a shock in that respect when he told me. But, to be honest, I was surprised you were the one.”

  “The one?” Ben asked. His heart was hammering and he wiped his sweaty palms on the napkin he held.

  “You know. The one. And it’s not for the reason you’re thinking.”

  “Because I’m average-looking?” Ben asked wryly.

  “I’d give you a couple points above average,” she said seriously. “No. I’m surprised because you’re an outsider. And Tripp is as Southern as the day is long. The thought of leaving Mercury makes him sick in the head and the stomach. But I can’t see you staying. Are you gonna stay for my boy, Ben?”

  Ben ignored her observations about Tripp. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell her Tripp dreamed about leaving Mercury. “I’m going back to L.A.,” he said with a sinking heart. “When my job is done here, I’m going back to L.A.” He’d meant to say home, but somehow he just couldn’t call it that right now, which produced its own special brand of panic.

  “Then I guess we’re in for some rough water,” she said. She opened up a second oven directly underneath the first and pulled out a roast chicken that looked delicious. She set it down and turned to face Ben. “I know you have feelings for him because you don’t seem like the kind of guy to lead someone on. Right?”

  “Okay. Yes,” Ben finally admitted. “I have feelings for him. But there’s a lot more to consider.” Ben slipped down from the barstool. “I’ve told him repeatedly that I don’t want to get involved, mainly because I’m going back to L.A. But he refuses to listen. Maybe you can get him to accept it.”

  “Maybe.” She went back to bustling around the kitchen. “But he comes from very stubborn stock. My guess is he’s going to keep beating his head against the wall until you leave. I suppose there’s no way he’s going to get out of this without a broken heart.” She turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. “I’m not blaming you. It’s the sort of thing we do in this family.” She smiled at him, wiping her hands. “You know, the first time I saw his daddy, I knew he was the one. I guess Tripp is just like me.”

  “Maybe I should go,” Ben said, feeling guilty and confused.

  “Nonsense,” she said firmly. “I spent all day cooking this meal and I won’t have it go to waste. I like you, you know. You like shopping? For clothes and stuff?”

  “I hate shopping,” Ben said.

  “Damn. So much for stereotypes,” she said with a sigh.

  “Are we talking about clothes for you or for me?” Ben asked. He slid back up on his barstool.

  “Me, of course,” she said.

  “So I could just sit around and sip a Starbucks and nod when you asked my opinion?” Ben teased.

  “Yep,” she said. “That’s more than I get from Tripp or his daddy.”

  “Well, I guess I could do that,” Ben conceded. “But the Starbucks is mandatory.”

  With a laugh, she came back over and topped off his glass of wine. She laughed almost as much as Tripp. “Good. That’s settled. Now, let’s get back to drinking and you can tell me what it’s like to be gay. I figure I got to study up now that Tripp’s finally figured it out. Or we can just gossip. I’m good either way.”

  “How long until Tripp gets home?” Ben asked, looking longingly at the door.

  “I don’t know, but if he doesn’t get home soon, we’re going to eat all this food ourselves,” she told him. Ben perked up at that and she laughed again.

  As soon as Tripp opened the door, he could hear his mama and Ben laughing in the kitchen. He smelled her roast chicken and pie and biscuits, and his mouth watered. He didn’t think life got any better than it was right this minute. Then he followed his nose to the kitchen and saw the two of them together at the island, drinking wine and eating, and he knew he’d been wrong. He wanted that every day, Ben in his house.

  Ben noticed him first. “Hey,” he said. He blushed and took a sip of his wine, looking away from Tripp.

  Tripp tried not to gloat at his reaction. Ben had played off what happened at his house the other night. Today on the phone it seemed like he was trying to convince himself instead of Tripp that they weren’t dating. But Tripp could be patient—up to a point. After all, Ben was still planning on going back to L.A. Luckily there was still a lot of work to be done at the data center and the foundation was nowhere near up and running. Hell, half the business park still had to be built. Which meant Tripp could work it out to visit there, in an official capacity of course, almost every day. He’d wear Ben down eventually.

  “Hey,” he said back, keeping it casual. “Hey, Mama,” he added, walking over and kissing her cheek.

  “You’re late,” she said. “But we saved a couple of biscuits for you.”

  “Liar,” he said. “I can smell another batch in the oven.”

  “Can’t put anything past you,” she said with a laugh, climbing down off the barstool. She walked over and opened up the oven, pulling out a sheet of biscuits. While she was over there and Ben wasn’t looking, Tripp slid onto the barstool she’d vacated beside Ben. When Ben saw him there, he did a double take.

  “That’s your mom’s seat,” he said.

  “Was,” Tripp said. “But she usually likes to sit closer to the oven when she’s got something cooking.”

  “That’s true,” she called back, sliding the biscuits from the hot tray into a basket. “I sat beside you so we could talk easier.”

  “I see what you’re doing,” Ben said to her. “It’s not going to work.”

  “Well, I’m not gonna work against him either,” she said, winking at Ben.

  Tripp took pity on him and got up to get a beer from the fridge. “Want one?” he asked.

  Ben pointed to a glass of wine. “I’ve already got a drink. Thanks.”

  “Wine drinker, huh?” Tripp said. �
�That’s a point against.”

  “If I rack up enough points against, does that mean you’ll leave me alone?” Ben sipped his wine.

  “Nope,” Tripp said, popping the top off a bottle of pale ale from a brewery in Ashville. “I’ll just keep trying until I find a beer you like and I find a wine I like. See? Compromise.”

  Ben sighed. “I already like beer,” he admitted. “I just brought the wine for dinner. But I do like wine,” he assured Tripp’s mom as she started to protest.

  Tripp turned to his mom. “Point me in the right direction. The man’s hungry and so am I. What can I do to help get it ready?”

  “Why don’t you cut the chicken? And Ben, you can carry our drinks over to the table and then come on back and grab these biscuits.”

  “If I eat another biscuit I’m going to look like one,” Ben complained good-naturedly as he walked over and took Tripp’s beer.

  “I’ll take you on a bike ride tomorrow that will burn every biscuit right off you,” Tripp promised.

  “We’ll talk about it after dinner,” Ben said firmly.

  “That sounds ominous,” his mom warned. “Better watch out, Tripp. He means business.”

  “So do I,” Tripp promised. Ben turned to walk back from the table, and their eyes met. Tripp only hoped he looked as determined as Ben.

  Thirteen

  “Sit down,” Tripp said, indicating the couch in the den. His mom had disappeared upstairs to watch TV after they’d helped her clean up the kitchen. Ben hadn’t protested. He’d known as well as Tripp that they needed privacy to talk. Tripp would have liked to do more than talk, but he wasn’t counting on it, not tonight.

  “I’m not staying long,” Ben said. “Just long enough to tell you to stop starting rumors in town about us. And also to tell you that you need to think long and hard about the choice you’re making so cavalierly.”

  “What choice?” Tripp asked, sitting at the other end of the sofa. He wasn’t going to crowd Ben. “And I don’t know what cavalierly means.” He might not be the brightest bulb in the pack, but he knew this conversation was crucial if they were going to move forward.

  “Your choice to be gay,” Ben explained. Tripp didn’t care for the way he said it, as if Tripp were a child who didn’t know what he was doing or saying.

  “So ‘born this way’ doesn’t apply to me?” Tripp asked tightly. “Just because I haven’t been out there sleeping my way through the male population of North Carolina I can’t be gay? I’m just some crazy kid who got a damn fool idea in his head?”

  “Yes,” Ben said, his voice just as tight. “Because according to rumor, you were sleeping your way through the female population of North Carolina instead.”

  “I’ve slept with a handful of women, it’s true,” Tripp said. “But not one of them made me feel the way you did the other night.”

  “That could just be because they weren’t any good at it,” Ben said. “Not a sign that you’ve been doing the wrong sex all this time.”

  “For some reason you are determined to see this as black or white,” Tripp argued. “I didn’t go into this blind, you know. Hard to live on the grid these days and not be aware of the sexual revolution taking place everywhere you look. I don’t have to be this or that only. I can be anything I want on the scale. So maybe I don’t sit exactly on the gay mark. Maybe I’m in the gray area in between. But I can tell you that after meeting you I haven’t wanted anyone else. I can’t even remember anyone else. So if my meter was swinging before I met you, it is now definitely stuck on gay.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Ben exclaimed, clearly exasperated. “There had to be some indication before now of your sexual preference. It’s not an overnight thing.”

  “Maybe there was,” Tripp said, shrugging. “Maybe I missed the signs. Maybe I wasn’t that interested in figuring it out. Sex has never been high on my priority list, which was something I should have picked up on, I suppose. If I was doing it the way we did, I sure as hell would have been thinking about it night and day, like I am now.”

  “I think what’s happening at work and in your life has you confused,” Ben said, obviously trying a new track. “You’re projecting. You feel like you’re stuck in a rut at work, forced to do a job you don’t like, your future planned out for you, so you’re exploring and experimenting in the only area you can—sex.”

  “You’re wrong,” Tripp told him. “I’m not stuck in a job I hate. I love construction. Yeah, I’m worried about taking over and what that’ll mean for me and the company. There’s a lot of weight on my shoulders trying to maintain the success of a business started by my granddaddy and built into a huge corporation by my father. I feel that. But I’ve got years before I have to take charge. I already know I’m going to do it different than my daddy does it, who does it different than his daddy. But if I wanted to walk away, I could. I’ve got cousins who could take over. Hell, family friends could do it. Nobody’s forcing me. Every now and then I need a pep talk, but who doesn’t? But if I wanted to go off and go to clown school, or drive a bus, then I would. I’m doing what I want to do.

  “Think about it, Ben. I’m under a lot of pressure, and right now, yeah, I’m doing a part of the job I dislike but that has to be done. Welcome to adulthood. I know you don’t like every aspect of your job. But the fact is, now is not the time I’d choose to experiment, as you call it. Adding one more thing to my plate of stress is not what I’d choose to do. And you are stressful, Ben. If I wanted to experiment, I’d sure as hell choose someone who wouldn’t argue with me every step of the way.” He sat back on the couch and crossed his arms, glaring at Ben, who seemed stunned.

  “I guess I never thought about it that way,” Ben finally said. “So, okay, I concede. You’re gay, or at least into guys. But you’re pushing too fast, Tripp. It doesn’t mean that you have to be in love with the first one you’re attracted to.”

  “It doesn’t mean I can’t be, either,” Tripp countered. “Hell, it doesn’t mean anything right now, does it? Because you won’t let it. Can’t you even give this thing a chance? Give me a chance? I don’t want to push, but I want to try this. Can’t we try?” He wasn’t above begging. He’d never been very prideful. If you wanted something, you did what it took to get it.

  “I’m leaving, Tripp,” Ben said. He looked away. “Maybe if things were different, but they aren’t. My life is not here in Mercury; it’s in L.A., and when this job is finished I’m going back.”

  “What life did you leave behind?” Tripp asked. Was there more to Ben’s old life than he knew?

  “My life,” Ben answered, a little evasively, Tripp thought. “It’s where I’m from, where I live, where my friends live. I like my home there. All my things are there. I was going to get a cat. My favorite Thai restaurant is there. They don’t even have a Thai restaurant here. Concerts at the Hollywood Bowl, the occasional Dodgers game, Disneyland. I like L.A.”

  Tripp didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Maybe I don’t have a significant other there anymore,” Ben went on, gaining steam. He stood up and began to pace. “But I don’t need someone else to define who I am or my life. I’m fine just as I am. I’m Ben, and I’m from L.A. That defines me. So don’t ask me to stay just because you’ve never wanted to have sex with a guy before. Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered. But I’m not that great, Tripp. I’m not kinky, or freaky, or into the club scene. I’m a regular, run-of-the-mill guy with a desk job and bills to pay, bad fashion sense, poor cooking skills, and a sensible car. I just happen to be gay.”

  “Whoa,” Tripp said, standing up too. “Not true. You are great. You’re a great guy, gay or not. And maybe I like regular guys who aren’t into looking like fashion models, cooking food I can’t pronounce, or driving fast cars. Ever think of that?”

  “You don’t know what you’re in to,” Ben said dismissively.

  “So far, you’re the only thing on my list,” Tripp admitted. “That’s true. Look, I don’t want to redefine y
ou. Hell, I don’t want anyone’s identity to be based on me or our relationship. I have enough problems with my own identity. I just want to be together. If you want no strings attached, I can do that. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do want to explore. And right now I want to explore with you. Is that so crazy? Because you are the first guy I’ve been attracted to, and you just happen to play for the same team.”

  “There are always strings, Tripp,” Ben said. “Whether they tie us together or just tie us to some big ass regrets that we drag around forever, there are always strings.”

  “Are strings always a bad thing in your world?” Tripp asked, his heart heavy. It just seemed more and more like he’d never convince Ben to be with him.

  “Yes,” Ben said. “Eventually they drag you down and it becomes impossible to move forward.”

  “Maybe, eventually, we all have to stop moving on,” Tripp said. “Maybe those strings don’t drag you back, but anchor you. Ever thought of that?”

  “Says the man in permanent dock in Mercury,” Ben said sarcastically. “Mercury is a web of strings, it seems. First John got stuck here, then Brian. And there’s you, Evan, Luke, and just about everyone else I’ve met here, who can’t seem to break free either, stuck here since the cradle. Even Connor made it back here after everything he went through.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Tripp told him. “Connor would have wasted away if he hadn’t come home, and you know it.”

  “Connor came back to find the family he lost,” Ben said. “What about your family? What are they going to think about you being gay?”

  “You already met my mom. The rest of them will pretty much follow her lead.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Ben said. “I know Connor didn’t have it that easy when he came back. Maybe it was why he left in the first place. What about you?” Ben asked, facing him across the coffee table. “You told me you wanted to break free of Mercury, ride the trains and escape.”