Bennie lives in a residential area of Burlington where the streets are canopied with mature trees and the houses should probably all be on the Historic registry. It’s not his house. It’s his parents’. He still lives at home. Our reasons for not being out are different though kind of the same which is what bonded us. Bennie is trying to stay in the closet long enough for his homophobic parents to die and-or hand over the reins to the family business. Not an inheritance but close enough.
He opens the bright red door before I even knock. He’s wearing a pair of joggers and a Moo U Track shirt that barely fits because Bennie didn’t keep up with his track star workouts after he graduated. “Hey. Come in. My parents are at some church mixer or some such shit.”
I step inside. The house is full of dark polished wood and spacious rooms with high ceilings. The whole place smells vaguely like cookies and coffee, the way I imagine it’s smelled for decades whether or not someone bakes. I half expect his mom to emerge from the kitchen wearing an apron and calling him Beaver. “What do you want, Chase?”
“To apologize,” I say as we stand face-to-face in the foyer. “I thought I was really clear about the rules, and I thought we were on the same page, but obviously you got hurt so I must have been wrong.”
Bennie frowns, tilting his head to look in my eyes. He’s shorter and thinner than I am, but with a bit of a soft belly that developed after he stopped running track and started working in the front office of the family construction company instead of as part of the construction crew on school breaks. I used to find his dad bod attractive but now, well I’m only into one body, and it’s Bowen’s. “So, you’re sorry I feel bad but not sorry you used me?”
“I didn’t use you,” I argue and sigh, rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger as I take a breath. “What I mean is I honestly believed that we were using each other. That it was one night of mutual fun but nothing else.”
“It was one night of fun, but I don’t understand why it can’t be more than one night,” Bennie replies and the frown slips from his dark features and there’s a pain in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “I mean we get along. We both have our reasons for not wanting to date publicly so I just thought maybe we could date privately, you know?”
“Yeah. I know.” I nod and sigh. “I mean I get why you might want to go in that direction but I just don’t. I’m sorry.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You don’t want a relationship?”
He’s thinking about catching me with Bowen. I have to choose my next words very deliberately. “I told you before, I’m not trying to find anything serious until I get through this inheritance shit.”
“Yeah. And then you’ll stop working, go back to school, and be out and proud,” Bennie frowns again. “It’s a fucking gay fairytale.”
“I’m hoping it is,” I reply frankly. “And you’re not on the same timeline. There’s no set date when your dad will finally, legally give you the company.”
He shakes his head. “And you won’t wait for me.”
“I love you Bennie. As a friend,” I say, and he actually physically flinches at the words no one with a crush ever wants to hear. “But even if it was more, I’d have to say no. I’m not waiting for anyone. I’ve spent way too many years not fully honest about who I am, and I don’t want to do it for a second longer than I have to.”
“And the drummer guy? Ben?”
“Bowen.” My tone is clipped and harsh which is not at all how I should sound right now. I’m supposed to be making amends not making things worse. I clear my throat. “He can’t do a gig we have booked and so I was hoping that you could.”
“Guess he couldn’t handle your one and done rule either, huh?” Bennie seems to be taking a lot of satisfaction from that assumption and as much as I don’t want to burst his bitter little bubble, I have to be honest. Well, honest-ish.
“It’s not that he doesn’t want to play with us, it’s that he can’t. Because the gig is a Lacey Baldwin campaign event and with his brother being the opposing candidate, it’s not exactly a good idea.”
“Oh.” Bennie looks disappointed that I didn’t break Bowen’s heart, which makes him a bigger dick than I realized. If I had more time before the gig I would walk out of here and find another damn drummer, but unfortunately the event is in less than two weeks and finding a guy who can fill the spot and knows all the songs might be impossible. I can’t risk it.
“Come on. For old time’s sake,” I beg. “And the pay will be great. Grant and Joe would love to have you back.”
“And you.”
Ugh. Fuck. I suck all the air I can into my lungs. “I never hated playing with you Bennie. Or hanging out with you. I still consider you a friend.”
That isn’t exactly what he was hoping to hear, I can tell. But as he runs a hand through his dark hair and scratches his head, I realize it’s close enough. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ve missed playing anyway.”
“Awesome.” I give him what’s supposed to be a quick hug but he holds onto me longer than I expect.
I’m about to panic about what, exactly, he’s going to do next when I hear a high-pitched female voice. “Chase Ashton? Well, we haven’t seen you in ages.”
Mrs. Johnson appears at the end of the hall in the doorway to the kitchen. They came in the back door. Thankfully, judging by the friendly smile on her face, she didn’t overhear much of our conversation. Bennie jumps away from me like her voice is a cattle prod suddenly jabbing him in the back.
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson, it has been a while,” I say and brush by Bennie to give her a hug. She loves hugging. She extends her arms as I approach and I notice Mr. Johnson staring behind her with a pained smile on his face.
“You hug too much Karen,” he chastised his wife. “That’s why Bennie is hugging dudes like it’s normal. Nothing normal about coming home and finding my son with his arms around another dude.”
I hug Mrs. Johnson extra hard after that comment and give him a smile as bright as the sun. “Hey Mr. Johnson. So you don’t want a hug? I can challenge you to a duel or something if that’s more manly?”
Mrs. Johnson giggles. Bennie smirks at me when I turn back to him. Mr. Johnson mutters something under his breath but I don’t catch it because I’m already on my way to the front door. “I was just on my way out.”
