After getting home to his high-rise, he found the suit laid out on his bed, and she’d gone so far as to tell his housekeeper which cufflinks and tie clip to wear. “Control freak much, Joyce?”
He showered in his steam shower with the four huge showerheads, and when he was in that shower, he remembered the tiny, rust-stained shower he’d had as a kid. His mother, a single mother, had worked so hard, two or three jobs at a time, and his only job was to do well in school. Being a computer genius, she didn’t want him to throw away his gifts to get minimum wage, after-school jobs to help with the bills. His job was to work his ass off in school and get scholarships.
He did. Now, he was a moderately handsome guy with a fat bank account that was used in part to give his mother the luxury she’d never gotten in his youth.
In the mirror after his shower, he saw himself smiling. No, he wasn’t conceited, but he was happy. The long vanity held two sinks, and behind him was the enormous tub that made him feel tiny. He’d bathe after harder days, and after a rough workout from his sadistic personal trainer. Other than that, it sat empty and shining.
More muscled than he’d ever been didn’t mean he was heavily muscled. Far from it. Like Kurt, he was a nerd, and he didn’t hate the title. He wore it proudly. Benson Carter was a nerd, and he’d fought and studied hard to become that. It meant, however, that he was on the thin side, and kept the small muscles he had by downing the chalky protein drinks his trainer recommended.
He had a very short, trimmed beard, flashing brown eyes and unblemished skin, unlike in his youth. Benson could lament that he wasn’t bigger and buffer, that he was getting a little gray in said beard, but he didn’t. As far as Benson was concerned, he’d earned the grays, and he’d eventually gain some weight, leading either to a happy paunch or a little bigger muscle.
After he dressed, Benson was staring in the mirror again, fully dressed, and his housekeeper came in after knocking to hand him a vodka tonic. “Mister Benson, you look so nice,” she said, with her El Salvadoran accent much less pronounced. Benson had sprung for lessons for her when she came to him in tears. Some people were less than friendly toward anyone with a heavy accent.
“Thank you, Lupe, but I didn’t pick a thing.”
“Miss Joyce is…a, you know, ball buster?”
“To put it mildly.”
They laughed together, and she nodded to the drink in his hand. “Drink that and have a good time, yes?”
“Yes, thank you. You are off duty.”
“Not until I clean that shower.Ay Dios mio, you are a mess.”
“That I truly am, which is why I need you so badly. If you ever leave me for another employer, I’d be lost.”
“Then a raise soon, huh?”
“I should learn to keep quiet,” he said with a laugh.
The car met him in front of the building, and he got in to find Joyce there, dressed in a beautiful, navy cocktail dress with her gold chain and bracelet perfectly matching his cufflinks and tie clip.
“You look nice, but you could have trimmed your beard again.”
“I’m having a night of fun. Shaving and trimming are not fun.”
“This isn’t fun. This is connecting to others of your stature.”
Rolling his eyes, he whispered, “Joyce, not everything is for that. Sometimes, I just want to have fun.”
She tittered a laugh and accused, “You’re after that leading man.”
“I sure am, and I’m bringing out my best lines, if I figure out that he’s gay.”
“I’ve heard both, so maybe he’s bisexual. Regardless, don’t forget, some very important people are going to be there tonight, and I will make you speak with them.”
“Yes, Joyce.”
There was a short line that they skirted past easily, the men at the front practically falling over themselves to let him and Joyce into the theater.
“You called ahead and told them I was coming,” he murmured to Joyce.
“Duh. Would you rather wait in line?”
They were served wine that hadn’t aged a year and tasted canapes that weren’t as bad tasting as they looked. Still, nothing could get him down that night. Not a chance. The rare nights out for fun, even if Joyce always made him work during most of those, were precious.
The play was a dark comedy set in the nineteen twenties. That time period held a fascination for Benson he could not shake. The speak-easies, the flappers, the men in the suits with the fedoras tipped just to the side…beautiful.
