“It’s not that easy,” Tripp said, frustrated all over again. “He doesn’t want a serious relationship.”
“Then find someone who does,” his dad barked.
“Because all gays are interchangeable?” he asked sarcastically. “Just pull another Lego from the bin? You and Luke must have been talking.”
“I’ve got to go,” Evan said. He cast worried looks at Tripp and his dad.
“So do I,” Tripp said. “I’ve got to drive to Elizabethtown this morning.”
“Wait until I eat,” his dad said. “I’m going with you.”
“Don’t go yet. I wanted to ask you about building me a house here.” Trey dropped that bomb, and the entire restaurant went silent.
“We can do that,” his dad said, recovering first. “I can recommend a good architect too.”
“Great,” Tripp said sarcastically. “Just what Mercury needs, more cowbell.” Brian laughed so hard at that he started choking on his breakfast, and Evan thumped him on the back as he stood to leave.
Tripp sat back in his chair with a defeated huff as his dad and Trey began talking about location and square footage. The whole town now knew he and Ben were fighting because Ben didn’t want him. No one seemed to be able to tell him why, not even other gays who should have some idea about this stuff. So he’d broken his promise to Ben for nothing, he was going to be late getting to Elizabethtown, and he felt like a fool.
Being gay was damn hard.
Nineteen
“So are we going to talk about it or just sit here silently, pretending there’s nothing wrong?” Daddy said from the passenger seat. He was sitting beside Tripp, his arm stretched along the back of the bench seat, looking as relaxed as you please.
“Talk about what?” Tripp asked warily. He’d been trying to focus his thoughts on work, but it wasn’t going very well, and he had a feeling his dad wasn’t going to help. Tripp was never sure where he was gonna go with stuff.
“You and Ben. The gay thing. What’s wrong. You name it,” his dad said, as if they were discussing the weather. “You scared to have gay sex?”
Tripp choked and felt his cheeks grow so hot they must be fire engine red. “No,” he said in a strangled voice.
“I’ve been reading up on anal sex,” he went on. “There are some guidelines to making it good, apparently. You need advice, just ask me.”
“I would like to never hear you say the words ‘anal sex’ again,” Tripp said, feeling a little sick. “Could you promise that, please?”
“Just trying to be supportive,” his dad said, sounding a little hurt. “I figured we never really had the sex talk about girls, so maybe we ought to have one about boys.”
“Oh God, make it stop,” Tripp begged.
“I was worried about AIDS,” he said, clearly on the defensive. “Ben needs to get tested, because I know he’s too old to be a gay virgin.”
“He’s been with one guy,” Tripp said, jumping to Ben’s defense. “He was with him for eight years, and they broke up two years ago.”
“So he’s a one-guy man,” Daddy said, nodding. “Good to know.” He sat quiet for a second or two. “I guess you ought to get tested too. I know you slept with Wendy Pate, and God knows that little girl gets around. Fair’s fair, after all.”
“Wendy is a very nice girl,” Tripp protested. “She’s been dating some guy from Raleigh for the past few months. They might be getting married or something.”
“Well, she had to find one who wasn’t from Mercury. Everyone here has had the milk.”
“Dad, why are you trying to pick a fight?” Tripp asked. “It’s not like you to talk about folks.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Daddy said, too innocent not to be guilty.
“I’ll get tested,” Tripp said, hoping that would end the conversation.
“So Ben don’t want you,” his dad tried again a minute or two later.
“I guess not,” Tripp said, his mood plummeting even further. “He told me so when we started going out, but I thought I could change his mind.”
“And you two have been going out for about a month?”
“Yeah.”
“And that’s all your time Ben’s worth, huh? Just a month?” Tripp shot a glance at him, but he was looking down at his hand, checking out his fingernails.
“You know that’s not true,” Tripp said. “I’d give him all my time if he wanted it.”
“But you couldn’t convince him in a month, so you’re just going to give up?” he badgered.
“I’m going to give him what he wants,” Tripp said. “Which is a no strings attached, fun time.” For some reason, it didn’t sound that fun.
“Because you’re not worth more of his time?” Tripp glared and Daddy held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”
“I can’t make him love me if he doesn’t,” Tripp said.
“But what if he does? What if the reasons he has for being scared of being with you have nothing to do with you?”
“Like what?” Tripp was genuinely curious. This was probably the most personal conversation he’d ever had with his dad that wasn’t about football.
“Maybe he’s running because he’s scared of losing you.”
“He’s not going to lose me,” Tripp said firmly. “I’ll wait around for as long as I have to.”
“But he can’t know that for sure. Maybe he’s running so he gets to be the one who leaves first.” Something about the way his dad said it made Tripp look at him. He was staring out the window, a sad expression on his face, and suddenly Tripp knew they weren’t talking about Ben anymore.
“Is that what you did?” he asked. “Left Mama first?”
“Yeah.” He looked over at Tripp and grimaced. “Stupid, huh?”
“And she’s just like me,” Tripp said. “She’s been waiting around for as long as she has to for you to realize she’s not leaving.”
“Some of us are pretty damn stubborn.” His dad rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Who would have thought a woman like that would stay with a loser like me?”
“No one,” Tripp said. “Which is why you didn’t believe it, I supposed.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Daddy said. “Sounds like Ben is a lot like me. And you’re just like your mama. Boys falling all over themselves to get to her, and she didn’t see one of them until me.” He shook his head. “That heart attack made me see a lot of things I was blind to before. All those other women were just me trying to find someone who could take her place when she left me. And I made us both waste all these years.”
“You ain’t wasted nothing,” Tripp said. “You still spent half those years in bed together. Just ask your accountant when he’s writing alimony checks.”
His dad laughed. “That’s sure true. I couldn’t stay away.”
“Maybe Ben won’t be able to either,” Tripp said hopefully.
“I don’t know. He ain’t as smart as me. I think maybe you’re gonna have to push him a little in the right direction.”
“Thanks,” Tripp said, getting a little choked up. “I know I sort of treated this whole gay thing as no big deal, and I know you didn’t have to do that too. But you have, and I want you to know how much that means to me.”
“You know why I never had any other kids with anyone else?” Tripp wasn’t prepared for the question, and shook his head. “I never wanted any. The minute I saw your mama holding you, I knew you were the best thing I’d ever make. I still feel that way.” He reached out and squeezed Tripp’s arm. “I’ve been proud of you since the day you were born, and I’ll be proud of you until the day I die. Ben’s a lucky man, and don’t you forget it.”
“Ben?”
“Hi, Mom,” he said into the phone. He was slumped at his desk, trying not to think about Tripp. Staring at his text from this morning wasn’t helping, so he decided to touch base with California. If he was using his phone for other things, he couldn’t dwell o
n the text, right?
“What is it?” she asked. She sounded rushed, and he could picture her with her briefcase full of flyers and paperwork and her thick address book, flying out the door to meet a client.
“Nothing,” he said. “I just thought I’d call, see how you were doing.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re dying.”
“I…what?” he asked in confusion.
“You haven’t called just to see how I’m doing in…well, ever,” she said sharply. “So it must be serious. Wait a minute.” She covered the phone inadequately and he could hear her talking to someone. “It’s my son. Something’s wrong. Call and reschedule the Schneiders.”
“Mom,” he said. “I’m fine. You don’t have to reschedule the Schneiders.”
“I don’t?” She didn’t sound convinced. “They’re downsizing, so it’s not a big loss.”
“Really,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“We can talk while I drive,” she said. “Don’t reschedule,” she whispered loudly to her assistant. At least that’s who Ben assumed it was. “I’m walking out to my car now,” she told him. “So tell me what’s going on in Virginia.”
“I’m in North Carolina,” he corrected.
“Of course you are,” she said without missing a beat. “I was checking to make sure you weren’t on drugs.”
“Right,” he said, not even pretending to believe her. “The job is great,” he told her.
“Uh huh,” she said. “And?”
“And?” he said.
“You would not call me to tell me the job is great,” she said, and he heard a car door slam. “Hold on.” A second later she said over the speaker, “So tell me what’s really going on. I read somewhere that Brian Curland is marrying that little minister.”
“He is,” Ben confirmed. “They’re in love.”
“Poor bastard,” she said.
“Which one?” Ben asked, amused in spite of himself.
“Both of them,” she said wryly. “Curland because he’s about to discover the world doesn’t revolve around him, and the little minister who’s about to discover what it feels like to live in a fishbowl.”
“Mercury is pretty far out of the way,” Ben told her. “Not many journalists or paparazzi are willing to make the trek for a few shots of Evan being an all around great guy. Although there’s an underground market around here for pictures of Brian doing ridiculous things like eating eggs at the diner or washing cars at the Youth Group fundraiser.”
“Oh, I saw that one,” she said, laughing. “He was half naked. For a computer geek he’s quite buff, but not as fine as the minister.”
“That seems to be the general consensus,” Ben said, laughing with her. “Brian has refused to go shirtless ever again.”
“I’m still waiting to hear what’s going on,” she said. He could hear the sound of the traffic around her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Calabasas,” she told him. “Can you imagine? It’s the place to be for midlevel millionaires who want midcentury modern with garden space.”
“Take Topanga,” he advised her. “It won’t take any longer than the freeway.”
“As if you could give me directions in L.A.,” she said with a snort. “You were never a good driver. I can only imagine North Carolina has made you even worse. The L.A. freeways would eat you alive.”
“You’re taking Topanga, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Of course I am,” she said. “Now tell me what’s wrong. At this rate I’ll be in Calabasas before you get to the point. Which reminds me, I need to stop at Gelsen’s for rugelach. Don’t let me forget.”
“I’ll text a reminder,” he told her.
“Am I going to have to guess?” she asked. “Job is great, so it must be personal. Has Roland contacted you?”
“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t expect to hear from him ever again.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t make book on that,” she said, surprising him. “He called me the other day and wanted to know where you’d gone.”
Ben’s heart started hammering in his chest. “What did you tell him?”
“I said if you wanted him to know I suppose you’d have told him.” Ben could hear her sarcastic voice snapping it at Roland. She’d never liked him much.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Ah,” she said. “So you don’t want him to know. Does that mean you’ve finally stopped nursing that broken heart? It’s about time you kicked that bad habit.”
“My heart was broken,” he said. “But yes, I suppose I’m over it.”
“That doesn’t sound as confident as I’d like,” she said. “He’s a thoroughly despicable human being and you know it.”
“Why didn’t you say something when we were together?” Ben asked in bemusement. “I knew you didn’t like him, but you never said a word against him.”
“Well, I didn’t want you to stay with him to spite me,” she said. “I figured you were a pretty smart boy and you’d figure it out sooner or later.”
“I never figured it out. He kicked me out, remember?” The memory made him cringe, but not in regret—in shame. He couldn’t believe he’d stayed so long with someone who would treat him like that.
“Potatoes, patahtoes,” she said. “Either way, he’s gone. That’s all that matters. Moving to North Carolina was the best idea you ever had. He can’t slither back into your life this way. You always were too loyal for your own good.”
“I wouldn’t let him back into my life no matter where I was,” Ben assured her.
“So if it isn’t Roland, then what’s the matter? Step on it, because I’ve only got twenty or so minutes before I meet the Schneiders and it’s too late to reschedule now. I have to go over the specs before they arrive.”
“I sort of met someone,” he said. He shocked himself with the admission. He’d had no plans to tell her when he’d called.
“Did you?” she said. “Well, that’s good, right?” She sounded skeptical. “What’s this one like?”
“He’s young,” Ben said. “Very young.”
“Is he legal?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s legal,” Ben said. “He’s twenty-two.”
“He can drink,” she said. “I don’t see a downside.”
“There’s more to a relationship than martinis and margaritas,” he said.
“Touché. You do love your way, I’ll do it mine.” He heard honking in the background and she cursed.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Just a tourist holding up traffic. So what’s wrong with your new boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Ben told her. “We’re just seeing each other. For fun. For a while. Until I go back to L.A.”
“Uh huh,” she said. “Why? Is he grotesque? A criminal? Married?”
“That’s the worst you can think of?”
“I’m not thinking that hard,” she said. “Should I pull over? Is it that bad?”
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Ben said. And that was the problem. “He’s gorgeous, funny, nice, has a good job. As a matter of fact, he’s in line to inherit the family’s multi-million dollar construction business.”
“Oh my God,” she said with what sounded like uncharacteristic glee. “My son has met a nice man. Be still my heart. Is he Jewish?”
“No.” Ben almost laughed at how hopeful she sounded.
“A mother can dream,” she said. “You were on a roll there.”
“I’m just not sure he’s gay,” Ben said.
“Has he kissed you?” she asked, sounding like a police interrogator.
“Well, yes,” Ben said. “Why?”
“Did he call you again after that?” she pressed.
“Yes.”
“He’s gay.” She sounded so sure it made Ben laugh.
“Thanks for your expert opinion,” he said. “It’s just, I’m not ready for anything serious. I mean, I’m not s
taying in Mercury.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“I’m from L.A.,” he said. “That’s just…what I am. I’m from L.A.”
“Technically you were born in Irvine,” she said. “And we lived in the Valley until you were almost eight.”
“That’s not the point,” Ben said.
“You don’t have a point,” she said. “Look, I’m here, the Schneiders are early and waiting by the front door, damn their eager hides and open pocketbook. So I’m going to give it to you straight: L.A. has nothing to offer you, Ben. You were a fish out of water here. I can hear in your voice what this boy means to you. Don’t fuck it up like I did. I walked away from your dad because he was too perfect, everything was too perfect to last, and because I thought my life was in L.A. and I was missing something. I’ve never found here what I could have had with your dad. If I could do things over, I would. Don’t be me. Okay? Love you, got to run.”
She hung before he could say anything, not that he was sure what he would say.
Never, not once in all the years he could remember, had his mom ever talked about regrets over her divorce. Ben had always assumed she didn’t really date and had never remarried because she wanted her career more than a lasting relationship. Suddenly his whole life was cast in a different light.
Was he doing the same thing? Was he running from something that seemed too perfect because he was afraid it wouldn’t last?
Twenty
“Mr. Heston, there’s a man here to see you. He says it’s personal.” Ben’s assistant Melanie sounded dubious over the speakerphone.
“Name?” Ben asked.
“Casey Mills,” Melanie said. “He said to tell you that you have a mutual friend in common. Roland Thornburg.”
Ben sat back in his chair with a shocked exhale. It wasn’t Roland himself, at least. Was this guy the reason he’d called Ben’s mom? What were the odds he’d show up the same day Ben had talked to her?
“What does he want?” he asked, not willing to see someone on the merits of a tenuous connection to Roland.
“He said it’s personal,” she repeated. “That’s all he’ll say. Oh, wait.” Ben heard someone speaking in the background. “He said to tell you he got a note from the housekeeper. Does that help?”
Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3) Page 16