“I’m relaxed,” Benji argued. He forced his shoulders down and pulled up a stiff smile.
She laughed. “You look like I’m going to eat you! At ease, young man. My dentures aren’tthatgood.”
Benji expected to feel patronized, but surprisingly, it actually made Benji relax. Usually, people in Noah’s high-society circle put him on edge with their unrelenting glibness. But despite all her elegant trappings and posh accent and her habit of ridiculously overspending on art, Mrs. Presley seemed surprisingly down to earth. Like that “new money” lady inTitanicwho gave Leonardo DiCaprio a tux. Maybe that was why she had that thrift store painting Noah had mentioned—she wasn’t used to all this wealth. Just like Benji.
“That’s more like it,” Mrs. Presley said when his smile turned more solid. “So! You’re the young man behind that wonderful piece I saw the other night.”
“That’s me,” Benji said.
She clapped. “Well! I must say, it blew me away. I can’t use all that fancy-pants language they teach you folk at art school, butI know gorgeous when I see it. The vulnerability in their poses, and the colors—mwah!”
Benji twisted his hands in his lap, uncomfortable and flattered. He never knew how to respond to compliments. Especially about his work, which was so personal since he met Noah.
“Thanks,” he said. “So… is that why you’re here? To thank me?”
“In part. I—” Mrs. Presley cut off with a satisfied gasp when Noah came back into the room with a tray of drinks.
“I love a man who delivers his own drinks,” she announced. “There is nothing less appealing than a man who never lifts a finger in his own house. Don’t get me wrong, I love my maid. But my husband can pour his own damn bottle!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Noah said. He sat down next to Benji, squeezing his leg. “So, what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I was just about to tell Benjamin,” Mrs. Presley said, adjusting her giant sunglasses. She turned back to Benjamin. “I’ve fallen in love with your painting. I want you to make me more. How does ninety thousand per painting sound?”
Benji’s stomach lurched. His heart slammed into overdrive as he contemplated that amount of money.
Noah squeezed his leg. The pressure dragged Benji back into the moment, and he looked over to find Noah watching him steadily. Not letting Benji freak out, like always.
Benji blew out a shaky breath. “I’d say… ninetythousand? That's a lot. What if you don’t like it?”
“Then paint me another one.” Mrs. Presley sipped her sparkling water, smacking her lips with an approving noise. “I read this history book about the olden days, rich patrons used to have their pet artists whose lifestyle they funded. That’s how we invented the helicopter! Leonardo Da Vinci had a patron.”
That didn’t sound right, timeline-wise. But Benji was too busy reeling to correct her.
“Not that you’d be my pet,” Mrs. Presley said, laughing. “You seem to be doing perfectly well for yourself! Noah’s always been a very generous man. I’m sure he’s buying you everything you want—and even some things you don’t want!”
Benji’s hands clenched against his legs. If he had money independent from Noah… he didn’t need to worry about Noah leaving. He could make a life without him if he needed to.
A Noah-less life flashed before his eyes. Before, it had always been penny-pinching, wondering when the money would run out. Now it looked completely different. He could still send Max off to college, still buy a nice house, still spend time on his art. Still… live.
It felt shockingly empty. What the hell did he want with a nice house if Noah wasn’t in it? Sure, he didn’t want tomarrythe guy right now. But he wanted to be with him. Picturing a future without him felt wrong in ways he didn’t want to think about.
“I think Benji might need some time to think it over,” Noah said.
Benji blinked. He was sweating. How long had this silence been stretching?
“He’s pretty busy,” Noah continued. “With school and other commitments. You understand.”
“Of course!” Mrs. Presley beamed, and Benji realized something else that set him at ease: one of her teeth was crooked. Every other rich person he’d met had absolutely perfect teeth. Her snaggletooth made him feel less self-conscious of his own teeth, which weren’t very snaggly, but could definitely do with a whitening.
Noah walked her to the door. Benji sat motionless on the couch, clutching the tap water Noah had brought him.
Mrs. Presley was offering him what he’d always wanted: security. A backup if Noah left. He expected it to make him feel… safe. He’d spent all this time worrying about what he’d do when things blew up with Noah, and now he had an answer.
Itdidmake him feel safe. A little. But mostly it made him feel like absolute shit.
“Hey,” Noah said as he came back in. He sat down next to him on the couch and plucked the glass out of Benji’s hands. “You going to tell me what’s going on in that head?”
He said it evenly, almost mildly. No gripping Benji’s chin like he might have done. Still thinking of their argument and Benji yelling at him as they came up the elevator.
