“A bit of Dionisis to meld with Thespis?”
“Of course. I must get all the Greeks in there I can! Why be cliché at all unless you go all the way?”
Chapter Five
Heinvitedhisstylistover to the apartment to dress him. He hated to do it, thinking how pretentious it truly was, but as Benson turned to look at the perfectly fitted suit, he couldn’t help but gush at Rodan, “This is the best suit I’ve ever been inside of.”
“Really, Benson, speaking like a street person.”
“Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t sorry a bit.
The light brown color, which he would have never chosen for himself, seemed to darken in all the right spots, including under each cheek of his ass. His ass, which had been much perkier ten years earlier, but with the suit pants, he could almost remember how that felt.
“Rodan, this is beautiful. What fabric is this?”
“Tropical wool.”
Another spin around as he asked, “I love wool, but this is thinner than any I’ve worn. I never thought of it for a party.”
“You won’t be hiking the Matterhorn, will you? It’s for a party in a motel room filled with mouth breathers. Hot, humid,crowded, so tropical wool will work nicely. I would use linen if it didn’t wrinkle so terribly.”
“For one, it’s not a motel. You’re such a snob.”
“I have every right to be.”
“I suppose so,” he said happily. “Well, send the bill to Joyce. I’ll take this fabric and style in this color and another, of your choosing, of course.”
“Of course. And, Benson, please, no tie.”
He stared dumbfounded. “No?”
“A nice cotton T-shirt in deep aubergine or crimson would be perfect.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. A party is a casual affair. Be…free. At least free looking. Never mind, I’ll have one sent over along with socks, underwear and whatever else you’ll need. Have a nice time.”
“Nice. I will. Thanks again, Rodan.”
On the night of the party, Benson was nervous. He paced back and forth in his bedroom, chewed at his newly manicured nails, felt each board of his floor beneath his bare feet, counting them even as he thought of everything to say and not to say at the party.
When the car arrived, he sat in the back, thinking about what words he’d throw out first, which smile he’d use, which stance he’d take with the rest of his body.
He couldn’t decide on one. He almost had the driver turn around, but they were nearly at the Waldorf. If Benson turned back, he’d truly be a coward.
After the door was opened for him, he got out, remembering himself. He was Benson Carter. He’d lived the true American dream, coming from nothing to make something of himself. He’d worked hard to be what and who he was, and he knew he was a good person on top of it. He didn’t experiment with themarkets, didn’t screw over his vendors or his employees, and he liked himself.
And dammit, Luka would like him too. If he didn’t, it was his loss.
And maybe somewhere under the façade of confidence, he might even believe it.
The suite was so lovely he was staring breathlessly as Monty came, slapping him on the back, which restarted his breathing. “This is fucking incredible. Thespis?”
“Of course.”
“It’s perfect. So comfortable and elegant, which is not easy to achieve, believe me. I’ve been trying in our apartment for years. My husband says to give up, but he also knows I never will. Let me borrow your party planner for some help, on the down low, of course, and I’ll be forever grateful.”
“I’ll text you his contact information. So, is…is he coming?”
