Not So Zen Ben

Chapter 9

Ben picked up his phone and stared at it, willing it to ring.  After a couple of minutes of silence from the obstreperous instrument, Ben sighed heavily.  He set the phone back down on the table still staring at it.  He had spent a restless and mostly sleepless night after his talk with JR.  He suspected she was right, and it was up to him to make the first move.  He just wasn't sure that he could do it.  He didn't know what to say to get through to Michael, and he certainly didn't want to give in and go back to Pittsburgh to appease Michael.

"What the fuck am I going to do?" Ben muttered to himself.

He leaned back in his chair.  It wasn't like him to be a coward about something like this, but he knew Michael only too well.  No matter what Ben said, the only way to make Michael happy was to give in, and he did not want to do that.  Ben pondered all the things he might say, finding them all wanting.

"Michael, I'm sorry.  I love you."

"Then come home ... now," would be Michael's reply.

"Michael, I'm not coming to Pittsburgh, but I love you and want to fix things."

"If you really love me, then come to Pittsburgh," would be Michael's reply.

"Michael, I forgive you..."

"Forgive me for what?" would be Michael's reply.

Ben shook his head.  That little exercise had got him nowhere.  He picked up the phone again and drawing in a breath of resolve, he hit number 1 on his speed dial.

"Hello?"

"Michael," Ben replied, a smile gracing his handsome face.  It had been so long since he had talked to his husband.

"Who's this?" Michael asked, his voice as cutting as he could make it.

"Michael ... you know who it is.  It's me, Ben."

The line was silent for so long that Ben began to wonder if he had been cut off, or if Michael had simply hung up on him.

"Michael?" Ben asked.

"What do you want?"

"I ... I miss you."

Again, a long silence.

"Michael, did you hear me?"

"Yes ... I miss you too."

"You do?"

"Of course I do.  Why don't you come and join me?" Michael asked trying to keep the whine out of his voice.

"You know I can't do that," Ben said rubbing his hand across his face.  He knew it would come down to this.

"Why can't you?  I could even come and get you."

"You would?"

"Of course I would," Michael said gently.  He felt like he was winning and didn't want to mess it up.

"Michael, I can't come to Pittsburgh," Ben said gently.  "I'm finally getting started on my book."

"Started?" Michael gasped.  "I thought you'd be finished by now."

"You don't write a book in a few days."

"I ... I hoped when you called that you were coming back ... to me."

Ben heard the despair in Michael's voice.  It mirrored his own feelings.  He was a fraction of a second away from giving in.  He drew in a long breath to steady his emotions.

"Ben, I want you with me," Michael begged.

"Then come here," Ben requested.  He so wanted to hold his husband and make it all right, but this struggle was one he knew he couldn't relinquish or things would never be right again between him and Michael.

"Me?  Come there?" Michael asked, the incredulity in his voice coming through.

"Yes, come back to the lane and our home here."

"That's not our home.  That's just ... a summer place.  Your home is here with me."

"Michael?"

"I thought you wanted to get back together, but I guess I was just fooling myself," Michael whined.

"I do want to get back together," Ben protested.

"But you're not willing to come home."

"What about you coming here?  Why do I always have to be the one to give in?" Ben demanded feeling his temper rise.

"You're being unreasonable," Michael stated flatly.

"I'm being unreasonable!  That's rich!"

"What ... what do you mean by that?"

"You sure as fuck must realize that all these years since we've been together you have gotten your way in everything.  And this time that's not going to happen!" Ben snarled.

He pulled the phone away from his ear and hit 'end'.  Maybe it truly was the end.

*****

"You ready to go?" JR asked Jacqueline who was adjusting the sundress she was wearing, pulling the straps higher on her shoulders.

"If we have to."

"Look, I got our dinner with grandma down to a quick salad supper.  We don't have to stay long."

"I know.  I'm being ungracious," Jacqueline said with a sigh.  "Sorry, and thanks for making this as easy as possible," she added.

"But you still don't want to go, do you?"

"It'll be okay."

"What is it with you and family?" JR asked with a frown.

Jacqueline shook her head.  "I never had much of a family growing up.  I had to mostly fend for myself."

"Is that why I've never met any of them?"

"Exactly.  There's nobody worth meeting.  Let's go," Jacqueline said heading for the door.  She didn't want to discuss this any further.

The girls walked down the lane to the thatched cottage.

Debbie greeted them effusively at the front door and hustled them into the living room.  Carl and Peter were sitting on the couch.  Carl got up immediately and went to give the girls a hug.  He nodded decisively toward Peter who also stood.  JR hugged Carl warmly, while Jacqueline made a perfunctory hug and then sat down in the armchair.  Peter just stood there.

"Drinks?" Carl asked as he looked to JR for an answer.

"I'd love a glass of wine," JR said, thinking she needed it more than the rest of them knew.  She hoped they could get through this meal without an outright confrontation of some sort.  "Jacqueline's not supposed to have any alcohol till she's cleared by the doctor."

"I've got lemonade," Debbie called from the kitchen.

"Coming, dear," Carl said as he and JR headed to the kitchen to get the drinks.

Peter sat down across from Jacqueline and they stared at each other.

"So you're Peter," Jacqueline said.

"And you're Jacqueline."

"Right, I've heard about you."

"Heard about you too," Peter countered, even though he had heard very little.

"Nothing good, I hope," Jacqueline snarked.

"No, nothing good."  Peter managed to keep his face from grinning.  He was enjoying this encounter.

Jacqueline giggled in spite of herself.  "I haven't heard much good about you either."

"I'm surprised you heard anything at all."

"Why do you say that?"

Peter thought about how to answer that question finally deciding to be honest.  "I mostly stay under the radar."

"That can be useful."

"Yeah," Peter agreed.  He allowed himself to smile, just a little bit.

"A man of few words I see," Jacqueline observed.

"Talk usually gets me into trouble."

"I can see how that might happen."

"You can?" Peter asked.  Mostly people tried to get him to talk, but this woman wasn't forcing him to say more than he wanted.

"Yeah, I'm not much of a conversationalist.  I mostly watch and observe."

"And judge?"

Jacqueline chuckled again.  "I suppose I do."  She studied Peter more closely.  "I think we might actually have a lot in common."

"Oh?" Peter asked.  "Like ... what?"

"I don't have much use for most people.  I see them as customers in my business, and otherwise, who gives a fuck?"

Peter opened his eyes wide.  He'd never heard anyone say anything like that before.  "Does that include the people on the lane?" he asked with a frown.  Even though he felt like Jacqueline did about most people, the ones who lived on the lane were different.  He wondered if she felt the same about them.

"JR is very special, and everybody else on the lane is ... interesting.  And they don't butt into my life too much," Jacqueline said.

"Lucky you," Peter griped.

"They been hassling you?"

"On and off," Peter admitted.  "They always want me to talk."

"And you don't want to."

"No, I don't.  But don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that they've accepted me.  I know they're only trying to help."

"But even that can be overwhelming sometimes."

"Yeah," Peter said softly.

"Well, hang in there is the only advice I can give you."

"Like I have any other choice."

They both chuckled at that remark.

"What's up with you two?" JR asked as she handed lemonade to her girlfriend.

"Nothing," they both said together causing them to laugh some more.

JR studied them wondering what had gone on while she was in the kitchen.

It wasn't long until Debbie called them to the table.  The food was delicious and they all managed to make small talk and get through the evening without any problem.

As JR and Jacqueline walked back to the B&B, JR asked, "It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Surprisingly, no," Jacqueline said.

"What was going on with you and Peter?"

"Nothing, really.  We just had a little chat, nothing more."

JR looked at her lover in the pale light of a setting sun.  She knew there was more to it than that.

*****

“Hey Pop, did I wake you?” Gus asked when his call was finally answered.

“Yeah, but it’s all right, Sonny Boy,” Brian sleepily replied.  “You arrive in jolly ole England?”

“Right on time,” Gus said cheerfully.

“You’re much too jolly for me,” Brian mumbled as he cracked open an eye to check the time.  “Shit, did you just land?”

“Sorry, Pop, by the time we get our bags and stuff…”

“Yeah, yeah, been there done that, have the t-shirt.  Check in with Shane before you and Ray crash.  When you figure out if you’re going to Paris or if Paris is coming to you, let me know.”

“I will, Pop!”

“I love you, Sonny Boy.”

“Love you too.”

“Send an email to your sister, both of them.”

“Will do.”

“I’m proud of you, Gus.  And I’m proud of that lawyer you insist on living with.  You stay safe and next time call me at a decent hour.”  Gus laughed before the Kinney men said goodbye.

As Brian snuggled back into his bed, Justin mumbled, “Who was that?”

“Gus, he and Ray just landed.”

“They okay?”

“They’re fine.  Go back to sleep, Sunshine.  It’s too fucking early to have a conversation,” Brian grumbled as he pulled Justin close to tuck him under his arm.

“I can think of something that doesn’t require any conversation,” Justin stated suddenly very awake.  He slipped a hand possessively in between Brian’s legs.

“Sunshine, what do you have in mind?”  Brian smirked.

“Shhh, no talking,” Justin commanded; he placed a finger over Brian’s lips as he took over. 

Brian immediately stopped talking.

*****

A tall lanky brunet stretched.  He wiggled his toes as he scratched his crotch.  He sat up when he realized he was alone in the king sized bed.

“Ray?”

“Out here.  I ordered room service.”

“Oh thank the gods,” Gus murmured.  His stomach spoke loudly as he flopped back into the soft mattress.  He was soon joined by his partner.

“Hey,” Ray greeted as he crawled up onto the bed and closer to Gus.

“Hey,” Gus smiled at his lover.  “Do we have time for this?”

“Nope, but I can’t resist your charms,” Ray teased.  Gus’ stomach took that moment to again speak up.  Fortunately a knock on the door announced room service.  “Hold that thought.”  Ray jumped up to answer the door while Gus threw on some clothes.

After a hearty English breakfast, a shower, shave, and fast sex (not necessarily in that order) the boys were off to Kinnetik Isles to terrorize the populace.

“Lads!  Good to see you looking bright eyed and bushy tailed,” Shane exclaimed.  “Are you ready to take Europe by storm?” 

The boys laughed, took off their jackets then got down to business.  Hours later when most of the Isles staff had left for the day, the boys were still hard at work.

“Boys, you know that old adage, all work and no play?” Shane began.  The boys looked up from their workstations.  “It’s time to go play,” Shane said as he made a shooing movement with his hands.

“Is it really that late?” Ray asked as he checked his watch.

“Yes, it is, and tomorrow is another day,” Shane assured them.  “Now go have a nice dinner.  There’s nothing here that can’t be done tomorrow.  You got the Isles’ staff hopping today.  I’d be very surprised if there’s any work left to be done a’tall!”

The boys laughed at Shane’s expressions.

“Okay, we get the hint,” Gus said as he reached for his sport coat.

“But we’ll be back!” Ray growled in a Terminator type fashion. 

Shane feigned an expression of horror.  “Be off with you,” he said as he hurried the boys out the door.  Shane watched the boys descend the steps then hail a cab.  Before leaving for the night Shane made two calls.

“Pierre, are you available for lunch tomorrow?  Good, then we’ll see you there.”  Shane smiled as he made a notation in his business diary then again picked up the phone.  “There you be,” Shane teased as his call was answered.  “I was beginnin’ to suspect I was interruptin’ somethin’ important,” Shane went on with an exaggerated brogue.

“Shane, me lad, you know a gentleman never kisses and tells,” Brian replied.

“Truer words were never spoke.”

“To what do I owe this honor?”

“Your lads came in stirrin’ up me shop like a tempest in a teacup.  Me staff don’t know what hit them!” 

Brian laughed out loud.  “Remind me to give my lads a raise,” Brian said when he stopped laughing.  “Your staff does very well without the tempest.  Schmidt is in raptures.  What about Paris?” Brian asked like the serious businessman he was, all teasing and play acting gone from his voice.

“The boys will meet Pierre at lunch tomorrow.”

“Use the good china, Theodore already budgeted it.”

“I shall.  And now, when do we next get to see your handsome face gracing us in our humble shop?”

“Not for a while.  Bree insists on a whirlwind tour of Europe.  I have to work my ass off to pay for it.”  Now it was Shane’s turn to laugh.  “However, you do get to see my younger face for the next few weeks.”

“Aye.  He’s a good lad, your Gus, and so is his young man.  They make a formidable team.”

“I agree.  I hope they’re not still working at this hour.”

“No, I sent them both packin’ a few minutes ago.  They earned their rest.”

“Good.  Keep me posted on Paris.”

“Aye.  You have a good night now.”

“You too, Shane, me lad,” the brogue was back.

Both men laughed as they cut their connection.

Brian paused, smiling before returning to his previous activity of wrestling with a stubborn weed when he was interrupted by Shane’s call.  Brian was very happy with Shane’s little report but expected no less from Gus, Ray, and Isles.  If all went well by the time Gus and Ray came back to the States, Kinnetik would have a firm presence in Europe.  That was a heady realization.  Brian Kinney, the poor kid from the wrong side of Pittsburgh now an advertising king on two continents.

As Brian was contemplating his past, present, and future, Justin walked out of the sun porch door with a large bottle of water.  He had caught the tail end of Brian’s conversation with Shane.

“What did Shane have to say?” Justin asked as he handed Brian the water.  Brian took a good long drink before responding.

“The boys scared the shit out of the Isles staff.  Shane said that everyone was so busy today that he doesn’t think that have any work left to do tomorrow!”  Brian and Justin grinned.

“And Paris?”

“Tomorrow.  Shane confirmed the boys will meet Pierre at lunch tomorrow.”

“Good.  What will be will be,” Justin stated.  “Are you almost through playing with plants?” Justin teased.

“I never play with plants,” Brian responded feigning offense.  “Keeping this garden weed free is serious business, my dear Sunshine.” 

Justin gave Brian a coy, come hither smile.  “On the other hand, there’s no rule stating I must complete this task all in one day.  One must learn to pace oneself.”  Justin’s smile became brighter.

Justin reached out his hand, waggling his eyebrows. 

Brian looked around the garden.  “Well, I guess I’m done for today,” Brian said as he took Justin’s hand into his.  

Justin stretched up on his toes to nibble Brian’s lips. 

“Let me rephrase that; I’m finished in the garden for the day, I am in no way finished with you.”

Justin gave Brian a brilliant smile as he led his man to bed for a post weeding afternoon “nap.”

*****

“This place looks expensive.  Can we afford it?” Ray whispered as they walked into a trendy restaurant.

“I’m more worried that we need a reservation,” Gus murmured back.

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Be your dad.”

“What!?”

“Be.  Your.  Dad,” Ray growled while giving Gus a poignant look.  Gus appeared to get it.  He closed his eyes, when he opened them Gus’ expression was smug with just the right amount of annoyance.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the maître d' greeted them.  “Do you have a reservation?” he asked with a snooty attitude that grated on Gus’ nerves.  Gus grabbed Ray’s wrist to check the time then scanned the room which was more than half empty.

“Do we need a reservation?” Gus asked mimicking his father’s stern breathy tone.  The raised brow completed the tableau.  “The dinner rush is over and you’re half empty.  How can you afford not to seat us?”  Then Gus turned on the Kinney charm that rarely failed to seduce man or woman, gay or straight.

They were immediately seated at one of the best tables in the house.

“Are you sure we can pay for this?” Ray leaned in to whisper into Gus’ ear when he took a good look at the prices.

“Shush, that’s what a corporate card is for,” Gus said back, momentarily breaking his Brian Kinney persona.  He briefly perused the wine list and pointed out his choice to Ray.  “Can you order me a glass, I need to wash my hands.”  Ray nodded as Gus stood. 

In the privacy of the men’s room Gus sent a text to his dad and Shane.  “Have to make a show, using the card!”  Gus held his breath.  Within seconds, he received a “no problem” from Shane and a “Go for it, Sonny Boy” from his father.  Gus relaxed, washed his hands then strutted back to the table.  The boys enjoyed a great meal and excellent wine, unaware they were observed.

Gus used his corporate card to pay their check then in true Brian Kinney fashion, he handed his business card to the maître d'.  “Have the owner call me when he’s ready for this place to be full all the time.”  Gus gave the man the eyebrow as he and Ray sauntered out.

“Excuse me,” a good looking gentleman with a thick French accent approached the maître d'.

“Yes, how may I help you?  Are you enjoying your meal?” the maître d' asked.

“Yes, yes, the meal is superb.  That gentleman who just left, was his name Kinney by chance?”

“Sir, I’m not at liberty…”

“I understand.  But if I were looking for, let’s say, an advertising company, who would you recommend?” the man asked.  The maître d' looked down at the card in his hand.

“Kinnetik Isles, sir.”

“Kinnetik,” the man repeated with a strained voice.  “Thank you.”  He nodded to the maître d' then he returned to his table.  “Kinney,” the man cursed.

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