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Authors: Eon de Beaumont

Rum & Ginger (20 page)

BOOK: Rum & Ginger
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Ben flipped through channels until he heard the familiar rumble of an Impala engine pull into the driveway. He waited, listening, wondering which door Brodie would come to. He realized he’d been holding his breath and released it. When Brodie appeared at the glass doors, Ben jumped up to allow him in. “Hey there.”

“Hey, you look great,” Brodie said, eyeing Ben up. Ben wore a cream English Laundry shirt with brown stripes and a pair of Calvin Klein thin corduroys. He’d opted for a pair of maroon Doc Martens he’d had since high school. They were super comfortable in case Brodie planned for them to do any walking.

“So do you,” Ben replied, studying Brodie’s sleeveless Ramones T-shirt, skinny black jeans, and black motorcycle boots. Brodie wore a pair of mirrored aviator glasses that Ben thought looked adorable with Brodie’s fauxhawk. He looked just like a rock star. The thought made Ben giggle inside. He was dating a rock star. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?”

“Not yet,” Brodie said teasingly.

“You’re killin’ me.”

“Patience.” Brodie pulled his phone from his pocket. “We should really get on the road.”

“On the road? Are we going out of town?” Ben asked.

“You’ll see.” Brodie dipped forward and pecked Ben on the nose. “Let’s go. Get your stuff.” Without another word, Brodie dashed out the way he’d entered. Ben grabbed his garment bag and a smaller bag with his dress shoes inside. He ran after Brodie, making sure to lock the door.

 

 

T
HE
DAY
was beautiful, and Ben felt exhilarated as the wind caressed his face through the window of Brodie’s Impala. The sleek vehicle had been eating up the distance to wherever they were headed. Ben had a pretty good idea of the general direction as they traveled southeast. He still wondered at Brodie’s exact plans, but his bartender was being frustratingly elusive. Ben decided to give up worrying about the destination and just enjoy the journey. Brodie’s iPod played an eclectic mixture of music: punk, ska, heavy metal, J-pop, show tunes, and some other stuff that Ben couldn’t pin down. Brodie periodically turned the volume down so they could talk.

Brodie related stories about his childhood, growing up gay and out. It fascinated Ben. He wondered how his life would be different if he could have just been himself. Judging by his mother’s reaction, it wouldn’t have caused too much conflict at home. Still, Ben couldn’t get enough of Brodie’s tales and how his parents constantly went to bat for him and defended his rights.

“Am I ever going to meet these magical, storybook people?” Ben asked. “I’m picturing Glinda the good witch and Albus Dumbledore, living in a rainbow castle.”

“It wasn’t quite that idealized.” Brodie snorted. “You’d be surprised how open-minded they were about my sexuality, and how irrational they acted when I came home with my tongue pierced.” Ben and Brodie shared a laugh. “What about you? How was home life for young Ben Silver?”

“Well, I wasn’t out.” Ben related some details about his life growing up in Liamsport and the almost fanatical conservatism he’d dealt with on a daily basis. He told Brodie how people were allowed to be liberal in his hometown as long as they kept it to themselves. The community at large wouldn’t even entertain the thought that their idyllic little town could provide the ingredients of culture that would produce gay children. Never even considered that maybe it wasn’t a result of culture at all.

“Growing up on the west coast was way different,” Brodie replied. “It wasn’t roses and unicorns, but it wasn’t the town from
Footloose
.”

“Well, things started to change when they opened up the treatment facility,” Ben explained. Some of the bigger cities bused their parolees to Ben’s town to get clean. Unfortunately it backfired, creating a wave of people who had no intention of reforming themselves. The little town presented a virtually untapped market for them to start offering their wares. “It opened a lot of people’s eyes, though,” Ben concluded.

“Is that when the city started to become a shit pit?” Brodie asked.

“It had been going downhill for years. That was just kind of the last nail in the coffin,” Ben replied. “Speaking of cities, are you going to tell me where we’re going? I’m guessing Philly.”

“You guess right.” Brodie nodded. “My buddy is a bartender at Woody’s, and I know a great restaurant on South Street where we can have a nice romantic dinner without anyone giving us a hard time.”

“Sounds nice,” Ben answered approvingly.

“That’s not all.” Brodie stole a glance at Ben. “I’ve booked us a room in a hotel just down the block, so we don’t have to worry about driving home or anything.”

“Wow.” Ben turned and gazed out the window.

“And don’t worry,” Brodie added. “I made sure there are two beds in the room. So, no pressure.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve thought of everything.” Ben looked over and smiled. He found himself suddenly nervous but happily exhilarated at the question of what the night might bring.

 

 

N
EARLY
AN
hour later, Brodie pulled the Impala into the parking garage of the hotel. A valet jogged up to the car, and Brodie reluctantly handed the keys over with a tip. “Not a scratch, dude. This is my dad’s car.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Am I a douche because that makes me so nervous?” Brodie asked Ben.

“No. That car is a classic. And I hate even leaving my crappy little car in these places. Whenever I hand my keys over, I always see the faces of the valets in
Ferris Bueller
when they get the keys to Cameron’s dad’s car,” Ben explained. “I think your fear is justified.”

“Oh, I know. And that scene where it flies up over the road and they look so happy. It makes me shudder.” Brodie shook himself at the thought. “Well, come on. Let’s get checked in.” They walked into the lobby.

Up in the room, Ben hooked his garment bag on the bar in the closet. Brodie tossed his small valise across the room and flopped onto the farthest bed. Ben went to the little desk and picked up the hotel information folder. He flipped through it, reading about restaurants and other attractions in the area. “We have some time before our reservations,” Brodie said, his hands folded beneath his head. “What do you want to do?”

“It looks like a few blocks up are a bunch of little shops. Some boutiques, some art galleries. We could go check that out,” Ben suggested.

“Sounds like a plan.” Brodie stood up. “I’m going to run to the potty before we go. Long drive.” He walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Out on the street, Ben and Brodie strolled along the sidewalk, discussing the interesting items they could view in the display windows. They stopped into a gallery in which all the paintings were varied representations of carrots. Brodie gasped and pointed at one that looked like an enormous phallus. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Ben smirked. As they explored a little deeper, they noticed a ridiculous amount of the paintings resembled carrot dicks. “It’s hilarious,” Brodie whispered. “Is it weird that they’re kind of turning me on too?”

Ben punched him playfully on the arm. “Yes. Come on, weirdo. Let’s get out of the cock carrot castle.” Brodie burst into peals of laughter at Ben’s lame joke. They continued down the street and ducked into a thrift store. Ben found a great waistcoat for two dollars. Brodie shocked Ben by finding a nearly new pair of Doc Martens. “Who the hell gets rid of Docs?” Ben asked.

“I don’t know, but these fuckers are my size.” Brodie turned the shoes over, looking for a price tag. “Five bucks? These are mine. Do you want to look at anything else?”

“Nope. I’m good,” Ben said as he held up the waistcoat. He watched as Brodie happily paid for his find. Ben thought Brodie looked adorable, as ecstatic as a little kid on Christmas day. Brodie turned with a large, honest smile on his face that Ben suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss. He placed his waistcoat on the counter but could barely take his eyes off Brodie.

“What?” Brodie asked.

“What what?” Ben responded as he paid.

“You’re looking at me funny,” Brodie said with a grin. Ben held up a finger, then accepted his change and the bag with his purchase inside. They walked out of the store. “Are you going to tell me?”

“You’re just so damn cute.” The words left Ben’s mouth against his better judgment and before he could stop them. “I kind of really wanted to kiss you back there.”

“So.” Brodie’s voice grew husky, and his eyelids drooped over his eyes. He stared at Ben through his lashes and pressed close to him. Ben’s body reacted immediately, the world in his peripheral vision dimmed like the only two people that existed in that moment were him and Brodie. He could smell mint on Brodie’s breath. Ben’s cheeks were warm, and the beginning of an erection stirred in his pants. “Do it now,” Brodie whispered after what seemed like a very long time.

“Here?” Ben asked, even though his body had already begun to lean toward Brodie. “Right on the street?” Ben was close enough now to feel the heat from Brodie’s lips. Ben’s own eyelids were closing in anticipation of that final instant right before their lips met. Brodie’s hand slipped up along Ben’s cheek, cradling his jaw and neck. Excitement like sunflowers bloomed behind Ben’s closed eyes. He felt exhilarated as the silken texture of Brodie’s lips encouraged him. Ben began to part his lips. Brodie’s teeth grazed the tender flesh, and Ben hummed with satisfaction. Brodie’s tongue tentatively searched out Ben’s lips, stealing past as Ben opened his mouth to allow Brodie in. Ben returned the attention, snaking his tongue past Brodie’s.

Somewhere far off Ben heard the horn of a car. He realized the sound only seemed far off, and he was snapped back to the reality of their situation. Ben ended the kiss with a surprised pop. He looked frantically around, hyperaware that he and Brodie were two men kissing on a public sidewalk. To Ben’s astonishment, they were more or less surrounded by people walking by on their daily business. To his further astonishment, none of them seemed to care at all that there were two men kissing on the sidewalk in broad daylight.

“Relax, Ben,” Brodie said in a soothing tone. “This isn’t Liamsport.” Ben still couldn’t quite believe it. He could feel the blush on his cheeks begin to subside and took a deep breath to settle his nerves. He nodded slowly, a smile creeping across his face. He was truly out for the first time in his life, and it felt fantastic. He grabbed Brodie’s hand and led him into the crowd of people browsing the shop windows. He didn’t release it, and they walked hand in hand, happy and confident.

“Hey, there’s a comic shop!” Ben exclaimed.

“Let’s go,” Brodie responded. They dashed across the street. Ben couldn’t remember ever being this happy.

 

 

B
ACK
IN
the hotel room after Ben’s shower, he read his newly purchased comics while Brodie got ready for dinner. The lyrics of a Barenaked Ladies song drifted from the bathroom as Brodie showered. Ben smiled contentedly. He realized he was lying on a bed surrounded by comics like when he was a kid. As he flipped through the newest issue of
Batman
, Brodie turned off the water. Ben couldn’t help but picture him dripping wet and naked, exiting the shower. He wondered where else Brodie had tattoos other than his arms.

Batman
sat forgotten while Ben stared longingly at the bathroom door, imagining the muscles of Brodie’s body flexing as he dried himself off. Lying on his stomach, Ben felt his cock stiffen beneath him. He shifted his legs to get more comfortable, trying to banish thoughts of a naked Brodie and the urge to burst into the bathroom.

Ben must have been daydreaming for longer than he realized, because Brodie emerged from the bathroom dressed and groomed. He smelled clean and slightly spicy. Ben gaped. “What?” Brodie asked. He was dressed completely in clinging black: pants, suspenders, shirt, and tie. He had abandoned his fauxhawk, and his hair was neatly combed to the side. Ben thought it was nerd-sexy.

“You—” Ben swallowed. “You look fantastic.” Ben stood. He wore his new waistcoat over his dress shirt. He felt his erection within his dress pants and hoped it wasn’t noticeable to Brodie.

“So do you.” Brodie leaned into Ben, pressing their lips together. Brodie laid a hand over Ben’s hard-on.
Shit, he noticed
, Ben thought. “Can I adjust this for you?” Brodie asked with a whisper and a smirk. Ben blushed so hard his cheeks burned. “That’s cute. Look at you blush.”

“You better knock it off,” Ben warned, “or we’ll never make it to dinner.”

“Good point.” Brodie released him and stepped back, putting some space between them. Ben took a deep breath to steady himself. “Better?” Brodie asked.

“Getting there,” Ben admitted. “Shall we go?” Brodie nodded and grabbed his wallet and phone. Ben opened the door, and they headed to the restaurant.

 

 

B
EN
LOOKED
around the cozy little dining room. A place this big couldn’t usually be described as “cozy,” but the way the building was partitioned and the décor reminded Ben of the little Mexican place he and Chance used to go. Ben shook off those thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the moment rather than the past.

He swirled the wine in his glass and then tipped it up to his nose, inhaling the scent of honeysuckles and slate. “This is great.” Ben continued to stare around the room. “I love how everything is mismatched: the silverware, the dishes, the furniture. It’s like eating at some crazy wizard’s house.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Brodie answered. “It reminds me of the Burrow. And the way Bancroft cooks? It’s like magic, what he does with food, so in a way we are eating at a wizard’s house.”

“Well, it’s his restaurant. It’s not like he lives here.” Ben sipped the golden liquid, enjoying the melon and citrus flavor.

“He does, though,” Brodie replied. “He lives in an apartment up above the restaurant.”

“Wow,” Ben said. “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah. Marty Bancroft and a few up-and-comer chefs are all about a retro philosophy. They believe in the old days when home cooks ran restaurants out of their houses and the food was awesome. So they’re buying buildings and making the ground floors into restaurants and living in the upper levels. Bancroft is a gourmet chef. We can order off the menu, but he has this really great option, if you’re up for something a little adventurous.”

BOOK: Rum & Ginger
12.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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