Authors: Jenna Jones
She called Ben up one Saturday at the end of January. "I found a table I want you to have--come help me stain it tomorrow?"
"Sure," he said. Late Sunday morning, he walked to the Marcus home in Cole Valley. "Where's Laird?" he asked as Tristan handed him a mug of coffee and a face mask.
"He escaped to a conference in Seattle."
"You're barely back from your honeymoon."
"And he's a leader in his field," she said gently, "and we got married when we did because it was the only two-week period he was sure he would be free for nearly a year."
"Moving up in the world, Tris," he said, grinning at her, and sipped his coffee. "So! What are we doing today?"
"We're staining this table." She led him to the still-unfurnished living room, where she had spread out drop cloths and opened the windows to air out any fumes. In the center of the room, along with cans of stain, rags and paint brushes, was a heavy mission-style table that she had already stripped of any paint. "It was orange when I bought it."
Ben winced and ran his fingers over the wood in appreciation. "Tragic."
"Yes. But it's oak, it's a great shape and it was only seventy-five dollars." Tristan set about opening a can of wood stain. "Just a natural color, I think, to seal it."
"And you think I need this?"
She looked up at him. "Do you or do you not have a dining room table?"
"I do not, because I rarely dine in."
"You're too old to be eating burgers on the floor in front of the TV. You need a proper table so you can eat proper meals." She sounded prim and he wrinkled his nose at her.
"Yes, Mom. Are you going to give me chairs, too?"
"Maybe for your birthday." She handed him a paintbrush. "Remember, go with the grain."
"With the grain, with the grain…" He drained the last of his coffee and sat to pull off his shoes, folding his sweatshirt on top of them. "It's been a while but I remember the basics."
"Help me turn it over, then, big guy. We start with the underside."
That took some huffing and heaving--and once it was resting on the floor again Ben flopped down beside it. "Nap time."
"Lazy." She poked him with her toe, then joined him on the floor, leaning back on her elbows. "How was the wedding yesterday?"
"Fine," he said, closing his eyes.
"Meet anybody cute?"
He smiled. "Well. I'm kind of not looking right now."
"You're still seeing Jamie, then."
Ben opened one eye to look at her. "What?"
"I saw you two at my wedding. All that dancing and cuddling. You can't fool me." She grinned at him. "But I approve. He's nice."
"Yeah..." Ben said and looked up at the ceiling. "He is that."
"We got an invitation to his opening in the mail the other day. You're going, aren't you?"
"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for anything." She nodded and picked up her brush again, dipped it in stain and started painting the underside of the table. Ben watched her through half-closed eyes, and then added, "He's painted me a lot, Dune says. So I want to see what he's done."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I saw one. He painted me as an angel, can you believe it?"
She looked up at him and smiled. "Not at all."
"Wench," he said comfortably. "A half-naked angel, yet."
Tristan laughed out loud. "Oh, I'm definitely looking out for that one."
Ben scowled. "You're another man's wife. You're not supposed to be having lascivious thoughts about me anymore."
"Oh, don't be a prude, Benjie. You know you're hot stuff. I'll always appreciate the view, even though I love and adore Laird with all my heart and soul. But," she added, and there was mischief in her eyes when she glanced at him, "since there's now a Jamie around, I will keep my thoughts to myself."
"Jamie's not getting in the way of my social life, you know," Ben said.
She blinked at him. "Oh?"
"Yeah. And--and I don't do relationships. Jamie's a nice guy and a fun fuck but there's nothing more to it than that. There's no point in making plans. And--and--and with this show, he's going to be a big success and famous and rich and move back to Pacific Heights and be a big international art sensation."
She looked at him a moment, and then resumed painting. "I see."
"Don't look at me like that. I'm just being practical."
"I see," she repeated, and then nudged a brush in his direction. "Earn your keep, kiddo."
Ben picked up the brush and dipped it in stain, and started working on the opposite end of the table. "I mean," he muttered after a few minutes, "I'm not in love or anything."
"Of course not," murmured Tristan.
"'Cause that's just--what do you mean, of course not?"
"I mean, of course not. Because being in love makes things complicated and you don't like complicated."
He stopped painting to look at her. "What are you talking about? I love complicated. You've seen the cakes I make."
"You control the cakes, Benjie. They're only as complicated as you make them. There's no x-factor with a wedding cake--there's no uncertainty, no questions. People are nowhere as simple. Don't let the stain sit too long," she added, and he hastily brushed up the stain he'd been spreading.
"I know people aren't simple."
"Which is why you spend most of your time bent over these insanely complicated works of art and only have sex with people who don't matter."
He looked up again. "Wow. It's open fire on Ben day, apparently."
She gave him a frank look. "I'm not in the habit of sparing your ego."
"I remember." He frowned at the wood and decided to concentrate on the project.
After a few minutes Tristan said, "Ben. I just want you to be happy. If keeping it simple makes you happy I'm not going to complain. But I really think you need a little complication in your life." She paused. "A little English complication with lovely blue eyes."
"They're gray," Ben said, not looking up from the paintbrush. "His eyes are gray." He glanced at her--she was smiling as she painted. "What?"
"Can you name the eye color of anyone else you've slept with?"
"Yours are brown," he pointed out.
"So that's two."
Ben sighed. "Lovely weather we're having."
Tristan laughed. "Okay, okay. I'll lay off."
"Thank you."
They painted in companionable silence for a while, then Tristan said, "Laird and I have decided not to wait to try having a baby."
Ben put the paintbrush down and looked at her steadily.
Now she was blushing. "There's a reason why it's so easy to get pregnant when you're young: your body's ready to have the kid and you've got enough energy to raise it. And I'm going to be thirty next year--we really feel it's the right time."
"We do or he does?"
"We do," she said firmly.
He looked at her a moment more, and then nodded and resumed painting. "You'll make a great mom."
"I hope so." She painted. Mildly: "I had enough practice with you."
They were indoors so flinging wood stain was out of the question, but Tristan still got the thorough tickling she so richly deserved.
***
Jamie wasn't in his apartment when Ben came home that night, and was out again when Ben got home from work on Monday. Ben left a message on his answering machine: "Call me, I'm bored without you," and Jamie's answering message was, "Up to my ears in show preparation, but I'll try to catch you at the bakery."
Tuesday passed with no Jamie, though, and by Wednesday Ben had to admit he was getting not just bored, but lonely without him. This struck him as absurd: he was intelligent, good-looking and employed; there was no reason to limit himself to one person for his social life.
He glanced around the bakery when he brought up a birthday cake. As usual, there were a few people tapping away on laptops while sipping coffee and eating bagels or muffins; some parents and children eating cookies; and one young couple sampling wedding cake flavors.
And there was a guy, about his age, with thick glasses and a bowl haircut, playing an acoustic guitar and singing in a voice that sounded more like it should be coming from a boy soprano than a grown man, it was so light and pure.
Ben watched him for a few minutes, and then said to Mike, "When did we get a musician?"
Michael shrugged as he set out cookies in the display case. "He showed up a few days ago and asked if he could play for tips. Mom said sure, so here he is. And people like the music, though I wish he'd rock out a little more."
"It's hard to rock out on an acoustic guitar," said Ben. He had his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans: he took out a five and went to the guitarist. "Hi," he said when the song was done, and the guitarist smiled at him.
"Hi. You must be one of the Gallaghers. I'm Ian."
"I'm Ben," he said, grinning. "Do you know any Ramones?"
"Of course," he said, blinking in confusion.
"Play some for my brother, would you?" He tucked the five into the guitarist's tip jar. Ian laughed, tuned his strings and started strumming and singing again--something a bit more upbeat than what he'd been playing before. Ben nodded in thanks and went back to the kitchens, catching Michael's laugh on his way.
Yeah, he thought. I've still got it.
***
He was invited to dinner at Leo and Adam's that night, so after he'd cleaned up and changed clothes he jogged down to their apartment and knocked. Adam greeted him with a hug. "Come in, stranger. We've got Dunie tonight, too."
"Hey, cool," he said, pleased--he hadn't seen Dune since the New Year's party, and Jamie hadn't mentioned him much lately. Dune was in the kitchen with Leo, sitting on a counter top, and after Ben had hugged Leo he went to Dune for a hug as well. "Hey--haven't seen you for a while, dude."
Normally, Dune was a fantastic hugger--an epic hugger. His hugs could go on for minutes, for hours if need be.
Today, his arms were stiff and he let go of Ben as soon as he could. "Is that so?" he said coolly. "Dude."
Ben pulled back, leaving his arms around Dune's neck, and looked at him, puzzled. "What's wrong? Bad day?"
"It hasn't been a good one." He looked away.
"Dunie's having a sulk," Leo said and held a baby carrot in front of Dune's mouth. Dune narrowed his eyes at him and hopped down from the counter.
"Will you please not treat me like a child for once?"
Leo gazed at him. "I'm just trying to cheer you up."
"I don't need cheering up. I need--I need to be alone." He glanced at Ben and then went into the spare room, slamming the door behind him.
"I'm sorry," Leo said to Ben and resumed chopping vegetables.
"What's gotten into him? Was he fired?"
"No." In the other room Adam cleared his throat and Leo smiled faintly. "I do keep the confidences of my child at times. However, I don't think this should be one of those times. Dune is upset with you because of Jamie."
"Jamie? Why? He's fine. Busy as a one-armed paper-hanger, but fine."
Leo chuckled dryly at the expression. brushing the vegetables off the cutting board and into the salad bowl, "He misses him. He blames you."
Ben tilted his head. "Me. Jamie is busy--I hardly see him--why is it my fault that Dune doesn't either?"
"Dune believes Jamie makes time for you when he won't for anyone else."
"I don't--" He paused. He supposed Jamie had so little free time right now that he was doling it out--and it did seem, now that he thought about it, that what free time Jamie had, he spent with Ben. "That's Jamie's choice."
Leo raised an eyebrow and handed Ben the salad bowl. "Put this on the table, will you?" He turned to get their supper--lasagna, it smelled like--out of the oven. "And then maybe get Dune? Tell him that dinner's ready?"
"Sure." Ben placed the bowl on the table and went to the closed door, knocking softly. "Hey. Come eat."
There was a pause, and Dune opened the door. "It smells good."
"Yeah. Dunie--look, I--Jamie and I, we’re not in love or anything." Dune looked skeptical and crossed his arms. "We're not dating each other exclusively. I know he's been scarce--I've hardly seen him myself for almost a week--but once the show's opened we'll have him back. You'll have him back."
"Ben," Dune said with a sigh. "I'm never going to have him completely back. Everything's changed now."
"How is this different from when he was with Micah? He loved Micah. Was stupid in love with him."
"It just was. Micah...he and Micah were never real. Not the way you are."
"It seemed real enough to me." He put his arms around Dune again, and Dune leaned against him with a sigh. "Best friends don't end just because of a couple fucks."
Dune chuckled against his shoulder--dry, like Leo's--. "Okay."
"I bet Jamie's at the gallery," Ben said. "We should go kidnap him."
Dune laughed outright at this. "Yes. We should. But first, Dad's lasagna."
"That's the spirit." He kept his arm around Dune's shoulders as they walked to the sun room to eat.
***
The plan was simple. They would most likely find Jamie at the gallery, Dune thought, and sure enough a few lights were on though the doors were locked. Ben knocked, then slapped the glass with the flat of his hand. When that didn't get a response, Dune joined him.
It took a few minutes for him to answer, but eventually Jamie did open the door, looking paint-spattered and a little weary. He lit up at the sight of them, though, and hugged them both tight. "Hi! D'you want to come in for a sneak preview?"
"Actually," Ben said, "we've come to kidnap you."
Dune nodded solemnly.
Jamie looked at them, puzzled and his brows furrowed. "Guys, I'd love to play but I've really got too much to do."
"You're here all the time," Ben protested. "What have they got you doing?"
"Come on and see," he said and closed the door once they were inside. He led them a little further into the lobby. "They've got me doing that."
Behind some low scaffolding was a mural, covering the entire wall, of a fantasy landscape of San Francisco from the hills to the bridges, its landmarks plump and ripe as berries. The Transamerica Building had its edges rounded off, looking friendlier than it had since the day the ground was broken. Waves curled in the bay, cars bounced down Lombard Street, koi peeped out of the ponds at the Japanese Gardens--even the neighborhoods were represented, from a defiant rainbow flag in Castro to the bright Victorian row houses in Alamo Square.