WEAKENED: The Manhattan Bound Series Book One

by Juliet Braddock

  “Hell no,” he chuckled. “You know what I was like back then.”

  Yes, she did. The “Candy Store Phase” was a distinct period in Ben's life during which he spent the first two years of college ogling random men and murmuring, “I want that one…and that one…and that one…”

  While he hadn’t yet settled on one man, Ben had certainly calmed his raging hormones over the years. He still wanted them all—he just didn’t vocalize his needs so provocatively now.

  “Well, we’ve gotta find you a man next, Captain,” Ben said suddenly to divert the attention away from himself.

  “Oh, Ben,” she winced. “Let me start my new job first—get acclimated.”

  The truth was that she still wasn’t feeling much better. She had lost a few pounds since he’d last seen her at the beginning of the summer, but her mother’s death hit Maxine in more ways than she’d ever imagined possible. In fact, she was so very lucky that she had a father and a best friend who intervened when she needed them most. Ben got her involved in a grief group at school, and her father made sure she saw every doctor in the Pittsburgh area who might be able to help her. Slowly, they’d made some progress in nursing her back to health, but Ben knew best to keep a close watch on Maxine. Still so fragile, she needed someone to take care of her, even though the stubborn, only child in her insisted that all was fine.

  For the moment, though, he had to keep things light. She’d just arrived, and although she knew the city well, she needed some time to catch her breath and adjust. “Hell, I can sit through a few evenings in straight bars with you…” he suggested.

  “And who’s going to hit on a girl with a guy sitting beside her?” she asked.

  “Excuses, excuses…” he waved his hand dismissively through the air. “I’ll wear drag.”

  “Please don’t…” she begged him.

  “Why? Since when do you disapprove of drag?”

  “Let’s just say that the most beautiful of men don’t necessarily make the prettiest of ladies…”

  Leaning back in his seat, Ben folded his arms across his chest. He knew full well that his attempts at drag were disastrous, but this was a fun diversion from the thoughts and worries that undoubtedly claimed Maxine’s consciousness. “I’m working on a Gaga ensemble, I’ll have you to know…”

  “And I’m sure she’d appreciate your artistic integrity,” Maxine added.

  “Little birthday gift for you…thought you’d want to go to the Halloween parade with the Lady…”

  “You have just over a month to perfect it,” Maxine warned him. “By the way…Dad says he’s coming up to celebrate with us…”

  Ben jerked suddenly, struggling against his seatbelt to turn to face Maxine, and stammered in shock. “Your father…”

  She couldn't fight her smile. “Yes…”

  “There’s nothing for him to shoot up here!” Ben said, taking her hands in his. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Somehow, she managed a giggle. Ben adored Tom, as he’d grown close to both her parents throughout their four years of college. He just had no intentions of going out into the woods to hunt with him. “He seemed to be very serious in his promise,” she said. “Squeamish…but serious.”

  Groaning and clutching his stomach, Ben slumped in his seat. “I don’t know whether to be really excited…or really afraid for all of us right now.”

  Playfully, she gave him a shove. “Just because he enjoys venturing out into the great outdoors with his shotgun to bring some venison home to feed his family does not make him a horrible person,” she defended her dear old dad. “Look at Mike—I bet he’s never shot a gun in his life, and I’d fear him more than my pops!”

  “That is true, Captain,” he said with an air of reluctance and a thoughtful nod. “And we can have some fun with dear old Tom…take him to Iggy’s for karaoke night…”

  Ben's suggestion of their favorite Upper East Side bar was probably not the best spot to convince her dad that she'd be just fine in New York. “Try again,” she suggested. “Besides, I don't think you want to hear him sing. He only knows ‘Hotel California' and ‘Sweet Home Alabama.’”

  “So that’s where you get your horrible voice!” Ben teased. He could be so relentless…but so could Maxine.

  “Shall we discuss the night you woke up an entire floor of men in the dorms when you decided to belt your rousing rendition of ‘Bad Romance’ at three o’clock in the morning?”

  “You know, Max, I will just take that as my cue to shut the fuck up right now…”

  “You'll never be Gaga,” she said, turning to face out the window. She could see her devilish smile in her reflection.

  “No, sweets,” Ben began and pulled her close for a quick hug, “but I will always be your best friend.”

  “And I shall be yours,” she promised. “Always.”

  Those quiet, tender moments between them were never scarce. Just as they’d shared their youthful brand of silly happiness, they stuck together when their lives were tough. In between, they took the time to reflect upon their friendship and how much they meant to each other. Both only children, they were each the sibling the other one always wanted.

  “So…Max…” he began, “you’ve never been to my grandmother’s house, have you?”

  “No, but I’m rather excited!” she giggled.

  Since graduation in May—and just to get away from Mike and Mandy—Ben agreed to take over his grandmother's sprawling, three-floor townhouse on the posh Upper East Side of Manhattan. When Granny Worthington passed away, his parents were concerned about the house remaining empty until they decided what to do with the property. Although his mother was ready to sell it to the first bidder, Ben's father was a bit attached to the old brownstone, and he wanted to hang on to it just for a bit longer. Mike sometimes harbored fantasies of renovating the property and keep it for themselves. With Ben staying there, he could keep an eye on things, make it look “lived in.” In turn, Ben could finally escape living under the watchful eyes of Mike and Mandy.

  “Well…” his voice brimmed with sarcasm, “you’re in for quite a…treat…”

  “It sounds so lovely—so turn-of-the-century…”

  “Indeed, it’s well over a hundred years old,” he concurred quite simply.

  Watching her smiling face as they turned down the tree-lined block, her eyes dazzled by the pristinely renovated townhouses, Ben felt a slight pang of guilt.

  Meanwhile, Maxine’s imagination whirled as she pondered the dignitaries, ambassadors, and global business figures that lived behind those secured, possibly armored, doors. Through the glorious bay windows, she envisioned dinner parties unfolding, entrepreneurs making million dollar negotiations and maybe even a mistress being wined and dined while the wife was away. The possibilities seemed limitless for the rich in this town.

  Maxine knew she’d never graduate to their league, and she was fine with that. She only wanted to find contentment and pay her bills in this city she so adored.

  As the taxi crept slowly down the street, Ben leaned toward the divider between the front and back seats. He’d already pulled his wallet from his back pocket, readying to pay before Maxine had the chance to dig into her bag. “Second to last building—up here on the right…”

  After sliding into a spot right beneath the crumbling concrete stairs that led into the aging antique showplace, the cab stopped rather suddenly, throttling Maxine back to reality.

  “Ben…”

  He thought he could see Maxine’s jaw trembling just slightly in the darkness.

  “Yeah, Captain…?”

  “You brought me here to kill me…didn’t you?”

  Chapter Two

  Just beyond the disintegrating stoop of seven steps sat the heavy, rotting oak door, coated with layers of chipping paint. Accentuated with glass crafted by Louis Comfort Tiffany, that gateway bore the weathered cracks and stains of the last century. A rather dim light peered through the heavy, yellowing linen drapes that framed the
living room windows; the glass panes fractured in spots. Just beneath them, the flower boxes had stopped thriving decades ago.

  The house, surrounded by some of the most luxurious properties in the entire city, paled by comparison. It was once the grandest dame on the block, and Maxine's sudden sadness over the state of near collapse into which the home had fallen left her feeling a bit melancholy for a past that she never knew.

  She opened the taxi door and stumbled upon the curb as Ben swiped his credit card. While her fears certainly burst through that grin, fracturing her attempt to show her excitement over her new abode, Maxine trembled slightly, her disbelief outweighing her ability to collect herself. Ben always told her that he could always read her true thoughts and feelings in her eyes.

  Catching her gaze, just as he scooted past her to retrieve her luggage from the trunk, he shot a knowing smile her way. “Welcome…home..?”

  Into a fit of laughter, Maxine collapsed. He was kidding. Yes, this was a joke that clearly had Ben’s name written all over it.

  “OK…which house is it…for real?” she asked.

  “Not kidding, Captain,” he chortled rather nervously.

  “Oh, it’s this one!” she said, skipping over to the adjacent stoop and reaching out for the locked gate.

  “Maxine!” Ben’s voice hissed into the darkness of night. “Get away from there—they have a security camera! Shit, we don’t need trouble with the neighbors!”

  “And I bet Mike and Mandy are watching us on a laptop in their apartment with a detached sense of bemusement right now.”

  “I’m not even going to entertain you right now,” he said, dragging the first of her heavy suitcases up the old steps. “What the fuck is in here? Your bed? I got you one of those…”

  So like Ben to struggle with her bags just to pull off a stunt, she marveled at the lengths to which he often traveled just to tease her. “Is it an old rusty one with a lumpy mattress?”

  Shoulders shrugging as he pulled a deep, crisp breath of early autumn air into his lungs, he shook his head. One more beastly piece of luggage to go. Only for Maxine would he go this extra mile. And he didn’t want her tripping and falling down those steps. Her mother always used to tell her that she could fall and skin her knees on a clear day without a crack in the sidewalk.

  “Just follow me to your chamber, Madame…”

  Much to her absolute shock, the key turned immediately in the lock. He wasn’t fucking around this time. However, the irony that his father sold some of the most expensive real estate in all of Manhattan didn’t escape her. And he’d unloaded the lamb in wolf’s clothing of them all upon his desperate son who couldn’t wait to leave home.

  Ben realized that his parents thought that forcing him to live in the worst lot on the block was some sort of cruelty they could bestow upon him in return for being gay. However, he loved that faded sense of glory in the house. He imagined the parties and the people who might have passed through those doors—Rockefellers, Vanderbilts, Astors…

  He could only hope that Maxine wouldn’t hate him too much after he gave her the full tour.

  Meanwhile, Maxine swore she heard both the door and the floorboards beneath them creak as they stepped into the foyer. However, once Ben turned the light switch, a loud pop exploded above their heads, plummeting them back into the depths of darkness.

  “Fuck. Welcome to my world…” he muttered. “Our world now, Captain…”

  This old house certainly needed some tender loving care, but she could see the potential the second he opened the main door to the living room. With time and a little elbow grease, she believed that they could bring the charm back to this antique brownstone.

  Initially, the building was one huge home with three floors and a basement. However, over the years, renovations had been made. Doors were added. Walls were built and taken down. Eventually, Ben’s grandmother kept the bottom two floors for herself and created an apartment for her longtime butler on the top floor, which, according to Ben, was now pretty much condemned.

  As she looked upon the rather tattered, but once pricey furnishings in shades of blue and silver, her gaze moved beyond the fading monogrammed wallpaper to the exquisitely crafted moldings that a bit of sanding and paint could bring back to life. Eyes glossing over the old fireplace, she noted that the age-old tiles merely needed a good cleaning. They could also strip the carved mantle easily and restore the thick mahogany wood back to its original grandeur. Her dad built homes, and he’d taught her a few things about restoration and preservation along the way. Toss in a few throw pillows, add some artwork and scatter a few candles—and they could easily turn this pit into a palace…and on a budget, too.

  “That smile has lost its skepticism,” Ben said, his voice rising with some hope. “You like it, don’t you?”

  “We can make it work, Ben,” she insisted. “We can resuscitate this old girl…”

  “We're planting next spring,” he said. “There's a whole yard out back. My parents said they’d pay to have it cleared…but we could start a garden…vegetables…flowers…”

  “Have you ever planted anything in your life, Ben?” she wondered out loud.

  “First for everything, Max,” he smiled. “So…listen…I want to show you the bedroom, and if you hate it, we can work out something else.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’m not going to hate it,” she assured him, and she meant every word. Now that she’d moved on from her shock, she’d taken a liking to this beaten-down charmer. It was their home. And she was going to force them both to be proud of it with a little hard work and some fun along the way.

  “Well…” he lobbed his head from side to side. Maxine already knew there was some sort of “but” in there. “Max, I’m putting you in the maid’s room to the back of the kitchen—but you get a view of the yard!”

  “The maid’s room?” she wrinkled her forehead.

  “It’s cute—trust me,” he rushed to say. “And…um…I’d offer you the bedroom next to mine, but these walls are paper thin…”

  “Ben!” she scolded. “Getting laid! That’s all you worry about, isn’t it?”

  Cheeks flushing crimson, he stammered as he endeavored to avoid her gaze. “Well, I’m human, Max!”

  “And turning twenty-two next month,” she added. Their birthdays were only days apart, and they shared a very special Libran bond.

  “Just because some of us don’t think about S-E-X ever…” he teased.

  “I think about it,” she said. “I just don’t dwell on it like some of us do.”

  “OK, so tell me the last time you thought about it,” Ben challenged her.

  “Well…there was…I saw part of this movie not long before I left… Two-and-a-Half Weeks or something…and they…”

  Turning her to face him, Ben clamped his hands down upon her small shoulders. “Max, you have to promise me that by Christmas—you’ll get laid.”

  “You…are…” Now her face matched the shade of the red bow with the dangling jingle bells that he wore around his neck earlier that evening. “You know, you…if I…”

  “By Christmas, Max,” Ben said. “Just has to be done. I can’t live with you like this…”

  “Like what?” she charged. “Happy without…it…I mean…without…sex?”

  “Make it happen, Cap,” he said, turning away and taking her hand to lead her toward her new room, wheeling one of her suitcases behind him. If she ever moved out of here, he was going to hire her a pair of movers just to lug her clothes back down the stoop. “Just make it happen.”

  “You can’t just…”

  “OK, here we are!” he cut her off. “Now…it’s either love it or leave me…”

  When he opened the door to the room that did indeed overlook the small yard behind the townhouse, Maxine's smile softened and a warmth relaxed her rigid gaze.

  “You…like…it?”

  Ben had taken the time to decorate for her, which touched her so dearly that she began to cry. It didn't
take much these days for Maxine to tear up, but his thoughtfulness just opened the floodgates. She was already on an emotional roller coaster from that morning when her father put her on the damn bus.

  “Oh, stop!” he waved her off. “Listen, this room gave Mandy and moi a chance to bond for a few hours…”

  No detail was missed—from the freshly painted walls to the new linen roman shades and the flowing pale blue sheers that framed the bay window to the thick comforter and fluffy pillows that adorned the bed. He'd left the closet door open so that she could see how spacious it was, which was rare in a New York City apartment. During one of his grandmother's infamous renovations, she'd decided to make this space a livable one for her maid and attended to every amenity she could fit within this room. Clearly, Ben inherited his thoughtfulness from his father's mother.

  Beyond the closet, was a tiny bathroom, just big enough for Maxine’s private use. There was an antiqued white dresser, already accessorized with a crystal lamp and frames filled with photos. The two of them. Her mom and dad. Even a shot of her beloved late cat, Dolly, named after the musical, Hello Dolly.

  “This is…oh, Ben…I love you!” Lifting her arms as high as she could reach around his nearly six-foot frame, Maxine squeezed him tight before turning her attention to the dear photographs he’d chosen. She laughed through her tears and wiped her eyes as she took the one of her parents and held it in her small and delicate hands. “You pulled them from Facebook!”

  “I even pulled the shot of you with Drew McKenzie,” he teased.

  Drew was Maxine’s biggest teenage crush. While most girls followed A-list actors and rock stars, Maxine much preferred the talents of those who pounded the proverbial boards in legitimate theater. A Broadway celebrity of some note, Drew hadn’t quite hit the height of his career yet, but he was well on his way. Maxine first saw him on stage in a short-lived revival of Pal Joey, in which he played the title role. Her unbridled—and most unrequited—lust just soared from that moment, and she had to drag her mother to New York to see his every performance thereafter. Eventually, Maxine mustered up the courage to stand at the stage door, along with his other fellow groupies, to get his autograph and have her picture taken with him. That was her mother’s last trip to New York before she got sick, and Maxine continued to cling to those precious memories.