Pete hums as though he doesn’t want to answer, but says: “Told me you were an ex, that you used to beat on him. He wanted evidence of you abusing your new guy so he’d have leverage when he went to the police about you. But I’m a man of the world, Mr Romano.” Here he gives a wink, and Xander has to fight not to let the distaste show on his face. “I haven’t seen any evidence of that kind of thing between you and your beau. And if I had managed to get that kind of picture, something that might suggest partner violence to some eyes…well, in that case, I would probably offer you boys first refusal of the photos.”
With that, he slides an envelope out of his jacket and puts it on the table between them.
Finally, they’re getting to it. “How much do you want?” Xander asks.
But Ben is incensed. “We are not paying for photos from this bottom-feeder,” he says firmly. “That’s blackmail.”
“That’s a very offensive allegation,” Pete says, but he’s grinning. “Anyway, I don’t want your money. Like I said, I was starting to get suspicious. And besides—” He turns to Xander. “I’m a big fan, Mr Romano. Love that Jasper Crane. He’s gonna get outta prison, right?”
It takes a second for Xander to find a reply. “I’m sorry. If I told you, I’d have to go Jasper Crane on you afterwards.”
Pete roars with laughter, wagging a finger at him. “I fuckin’ love this guy!” he says to Ben. Then he looks back to Xander with a serious expression. “Nah, you take the photos. I’ve deleted the files already. And this little shit who’s bothering you, I’ll string him along so he doesn’t go to some other PI less ethical than I am, you know what I mean? I’ll just tell him you guys are being more careful, that I’m still on the case, but there aren’t as may photo ops.” He stands up and shakes Xander’s hand again, then begins to make his way past Ben, back into the coffee shop.
Karl looks up from the counter as they emerge, Pete still talking as he goes. “In the meantime, I’ll do some digging on him, eh? Find out his real name. I’ll leave the details here for you. And hey, you, Karl?”
“What?” Karl barks.
“You need to start getting in those cookie things that Mr Romano likes so much. Don’t fuck with Jasper Crane, you know what I’m saying? Now, before I forget, can I get an autograph?”
Xander, feeling like his life is becoming increasingly more surreal, signs a napkin for Pete, and shakes his hand yet again before the PI leaves. Ben is still in the back room, and Xander goes through again quickly before Karl can start bitching about cookies.
Ben is sitting at the table, looking through the photos.
“There’s nothing much here, not really,” he says, looking up at Xander. “Some bruising. A few marks that I didn’t cover up enough. I’m sorry; I’ll be more careful in future.”
Xander sits down heavily in the chair next to him and puts his hand over Ben’s. “Don’t you dare apologize. First of all, I put the marks there. And second, I didn’t know I was making life so difficult for you that you had to cover them up all the time. I’ll be more careful in future.”
But Ben shakes his head frantically. “No, I love the marks! I just don’t want people to think…” He trails off. “But I guess people are gonna think what they wanna think.” He squeezes Xander’s fingers, which have curled around his hand. “Who is it? Our stalker?”
There are so many people Xander has played with in the past, he might as well pluck a name out of the air. “I don’t know,” he says. “I guess Pete might find out. In the meantime, we’ll go on living our lives. You know what they say: living well is the best revenge.”
Ben stares down at the photos again for a moment, but then looks up with a smile. “Thank God for Jasper Crane, huh?”
“I might have to rethink quitting the show,” Xander says.
“What? You quit? You never told me—”
“I’m kidding. Mostly. But come on, Ballard, I wouldn’t pull the plug before talking to you about something like that first. That said, I have been wondering if I’d be better off not signing for next season. The travel is getting to me.”
Ben frowns, opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it. “This is a conversation we should have at home.”
“Definitely,” Xander agrees. “In fact, I think we should go home, talk it out, then spread out these photos on the bed, and make hot, sweaty man-love on top of them. What do you say?”
“I say it sounds gross when you put it like that, but yeah. Let’s.”
And for the first time in a long time, Ben gives his old grin, the one that makes his eyes crinkle and his whole face light up, and Xander knows for sure that everything will be okay.
Ben’s phone begins to buzz. “Ramona,” he says, making a face. But he answers it, while Xander goes out to appease Karl after the very provocative cookie comments from Pete Jones, PI.
Karl has almost guilted Xander into promising he’ll never eat a cookie thing again when Ben comes out from the staff room, looking green.
“Baby, what is it?” Xander asks, bolting over to him. Ben is swaying on his feet.
“The studio,” he croaks out. “They…Ramona says they’re ditching me. If I don’t go quietly, they’ll activate the morality clause in my contract. The atmosphere is too touchy right now, and they’re tired of the blinds and the rumors about us. So they’re done. I’m done. No superheroes. No Blood Bond film, either.”
Xander can’t think of a single thing to say, he’s so upset for Ben. Thankfully, Karl fills in the silence. “Shit, kid, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head.
Xander pulls Ben over to a table and sits him down. The coffee shop is thankfully empty, Karl having put the closed sign up as soon as Xander and Ben brought Pete Jones in.
Ben’s lips are so pale that Xander looks over at Karl and asks: “You have any brandy? Or scotch, anything hard?”
“Of course not, I don’t have a liquor license,” Karl says loudly, pulling out an unlabeled bottle of clear liquid from under the counter. He pours out a decent amount in a glass for Ben, and brings it over. Xander makes him drink it.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink alcohol when you’re in shock,” Ben says eventually, after coughing. The color is coming back to his face.
“Whatever,” Xander says. “Karl, I’ll have one too.”
Karl, grumbling about the vodka not being on the house, pours out Xander a small mouthful, and Ben another large one, before leaving them to talk.
“Was Ramona really awful?” Xander chances, once Ben has swallowed that one down as well.
“No,” Ben says dolefully. “That’s what made it even worse. She was nice about it. She told me as gently as she could. She said there’ll be other opportunities, and it wasn’t a great fit anyway, since I’m more literary—”
“She’s right,” Xander says. “Superheroes are all well and good, but do you really want to go down the path of blockbuster movies?”
Ben gives him a withering look. “Better a billion-dollar blockbuster than being unemployed, Alexander.”
“You know what I mean,” Xander says, pulling him close so they can rest their foreheads together. “The money’s great, but your heart was never really in it. And they’ll still pay you for the script rewrites, right?”
“Yeah. And Ramona said she negotiated a mutually-decided-to-part type statement, so they don’t just brand me as a morally-depraved kinkster in the press. But it’s not the superhero stuff I’m worried about; it’s Blood Bond. I really thought I had something there.” He sighs.
It’s the morality clause idea that pisses off Xander the most: that a studio would ditch Ben because of the kind of sex he likes, even if it’s between consenting adults. They might as well reintroduce the Hays Code and be done with it.
But it is what it is, and Ben is the one who signed the contract.
“My career is over,” Ben moans, head in his hands.
“No, it’s not,” Xander says immediately. “Fuck the big studios. They
don’t want to make Blood Bond? Then I will.”
Ben looks up from his hands and blinks. “Huh?”
“I run a production company, remember?”
Ben gives him a critical stare. “You’re a silent partner in a production company owned by Elijah and Dean,” he points out. “And much as I love those guys, they’re not exactly movers and shakers in the industry.”
“Maybe not, but just imagine the promotional aspect: Jasper Crane stars as Fletcher, crazy psycho killer in Blood Bond!” Xander spreads his hands out like he can see it up on a billboard somewhere.
“Uhhhhh,” Ben begins, and Xander can see every single objection he’s about to make.
“Let me do this for you,” he says quietly, so Karl can’t hear. “Please, baby, let me slay this dragon for you. It’d be a way for me to finally make up for the things I said that night, about the play.”
“That’s long past,” Ben says at once. “Long forgiven and forgotten.”
But Xander is warming to the idea. “It would also be a fuck you to the tabloids, and our stalker,” he points out. “Me, taking on a role like Fletcher after all the rumors and blind items? You can’t buy publicity like that. And also? It’s just a really great role, and I’d love to play it.”
It’s beginning to sound like a good idea to Ben, too, Xander can see: a small, slow smile beginning to form on his lips, which are back to his normal rosy hue, Xander is thankful to see. “It has possibilities,” he concedes. “I’ll give you that.”
“Let’s call Elijah and Dean. Pitch it to them.”
“Need a top up?” Karl asks, coming over with the bottle again. He just wants to hear what they’re whispering, Xander thinks cynically.
Ben pushes his empty glass away. “Thanks, Karl, but no,” he says. “Xander and I have some hustling to do.”
III
Friends and Enemies
Chapter Sixteen
The only person Elijah ever told about the day he went to see Benjamin Ballard and discovered a walking zombie in his place was Gina. Because he was bound by honor and sacred Head Slap not to tell Xander, and he knew he couldn’t tell Dean either, because Dean would have told Xander, and then Ben would have known Elijah had spilled.
But Gina, Elijah’s girlfriend, was different. Besides, Elijah was so upset when he got home afterwards that she immediately demanded to know what the hell was going on. So Gina was the only one who ever heard what it was like to see Ben that way, so depleted. “Fuzzy round the edges,” was the way Elijah described it to her, like Ben had lost that golden glow that lit him up and drew people to him.
It was bad enough seeing Ben like that in the doorway, but once Elijah got into the apartment, it was worse. A sea of mess; dirty mugs and food-crusted plastic instant-meal trays stacked haphazardly on the coffee table and even the sofa. There were towels on the floor and clothes kicked into a mound in the corner, or hanging on things like Ben had just thrown them anywhere, uninterested. Everything smelled kind of…musty.
Ben gave him one challenging look when Elijah walked in, like he was daring Elijah to say anything. So Elijah just removed a dirty plate from the sofa chair and sat on it, waited for Ben to sit too, and acted like everything was normal.
When he got home, he was never so grateful in his life for his beloved Gina, who listened to him talk about how confronting it was, and how eerie, and how worried he was about Ben. “And I can’t tell Xander. I can’t tell him to pull his fucking finger out and stop being such an asshole about it.”
No; Elijah kept his lips sealed, even when Gina said he should tell.
Even when Xander abandoned his pretense of polite curiosity and begged to know how Ben was doing.
Even when Elijah’s refusal caused another rift with Xander, the likes of which had not been seen since the Leather and Chains incident in college.
Things righted themselves, eventually. Xander apologized to Elijah; Ben and Xander got back together; Elijah was friends with both of them, and life went on.
In fact, life has got exponentially better since Xander and Ben came to Elijah and Dean with a proposal about Blood Bond. It’s an amazing opportunity, and they’re all throwing themselves into the project. Ben has never seemed so happy and alive. Every time he mentions being able to direct Xander in the film version, he gets this almost manic grin, like there’s a private joke there. Elijah just likes seeing him so cheerful, and Xander, too.
But Elijah hasn’t forgotten seeing Ben in his worst days, too.
Everything seems fine, and if Elijah intercepts a strange look between Xander and Ben from time to time, he’s more likely to chalk it up to the Mysterious World of Gay Sex than anything else. Xander doesn’t talk about kink, and Elijah doesn’t ask, until one day when he borrows a hoodie from Xander and finds a knife in the pocket.
“Uh, okay?” Elijah says, holding it up. Xander goes rigid and then suspiciously relaxed, like he’s deliberately releasing the tension from each muscle cluster to appear relaxed. “This is some serious hardware, man,” Elijah prompts.
“It’s legal.”
“It’s legal? That’s your response?”
Xander shrugs, tries to play it off, but his neck is blotched with red and white. “Sure. If it’s legal, it’s all good.”
“Vague, man. What’s it for? Do I need to watch my back?” He flicks it open and shut again.
If it’s possible, Xander looks even more relaxed and even more splotchy. He gives a tight smile. “It’s for the role. I bought it for the role.”
“For Fletcher? I thought he preferred to use—”
“Jesus Christ, Elijah, what does it matter?” Xander snaps, and grabs for it.
Elijah pulls it out of reach with a grin. “Wow, excuse me for taking an interest! Come on, X-man, why so jumpy?”
“Just give it to me.”
Xander isn’t playing around, and the look on his face doesn’t brook anymore teasing. “Settle, petal,” Elijah says, and holds it out for him. Xander snatches it and disappears into his bedroom. When he reappears, he’s calm and good-humored again, or acts like it anyway.
But it sticks in Elijah’s mind. It takes a couple of days to place Xander’s tone and expression, but it finally comes back to him—Leather and Chains, and the friendship-shaking fight they had that night when he caught Xander sneaking in, and teased him.
It worries him.
It worries him even more when he visits again to watch a Dodgers game with Ben, and the same knife is lying on the hallway table next to the bowl for keys. He stops and stares at it, and then at Ben.
Ben goes pink. “Sorry,” he says, and Elijah wonders why he’s apologizing, of all things. It’s no more appropriate than Xander’s reaction, and suddenly Elijah is afraid. Afraid of what might be going on, and what it might mean.
Ben grabs the knife and pushes it behind the bowl, but then thinks better of it and pockets it.
“For Blood Bond, right?” Elijah asks. “Xander as Fletcher?”
Ben just nods. They stand awkwardly, looking at each other, waiting for the other to make a move, say something, break the tension.
“I brought beer,” Elijah says, holding up a six-pack. “You got the chips and dip?”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna be extra-masculine and order pizza?”
Ben nods again, too hard, too hasty.
It becomes a tradition over the next few weeks: watching the game together, just Elijah and Ben without Xander or Gina or Dean or anyone else with no interest in sports, and Elijah thinks they’re becoming better friends. They order meatlovers pizza each time (another benefit of not having Xander there: no lectures on the dangers of processed meats) and drink several beers.
And Elijah keeps an eye on Ben; starts to notice that sometimes he wears a bandana around his wrist, or a cardigan with long sleeves even when it’s warm, or buttons his shirt right up to the neck.
One afternoon they meet at Elijah’s place instead, since Gina’s out. After the game finish
es, Ben suggests they go down to the local courts and shoot some hoops. Elijah agrees, although he’s never been great at sinking anything and Ben has a height advantage. But they’re both tipsy enough to think it’s a great idea, even though Ben’s shots bounce inevitably off the ring, and Elijah’s are more likely to hit Ben than the backboard.
“Sorry, man, I swear I’m not actually aiming at you,” he grins after another near-miss.
Ben plucks his wet tee away from his shoulder, balancing the ball in the other hand. He refused to take his top off, even though the asphalt court is retaining a lot of warmth from the sunny day, and Ben looks overheated. He flicks the ball back at Elijah hard, and hits him square in the chest. Elijah clutches the ball, laughing.
Ben says, “Either you’re a really bad shot or…”
“Or I just like to see you in pain,” Elijah agrees. “Nah, definitely a bad shot. Ask Xander and Dean. Hell, ask anyone. I’m about as coordinated as, hm, something really uncoordinated. Fuck, I think I’m more drunk than I thought.” The fact that it’s so hard to say is another indicator.
But Elijah stops chuckling to himself when he sees Ben staring at him with a guarded expression. “What?” Elijah asks.
Ben gives him a searching look and then shrugs. “Nothing. I just thought…It’s getting late, I should get going.”
“Did I say something wrong? I’m always saying something wrong.”
“Forget it. I just have an early start tomorrow.” Ben is walking towards where they’ve thrown a couple of water bottles and Elijah’s shirt and keys. He takes a long swig from the bottle, keeping his back to Elijah more than strictly necessary.
Elijah jogs up and pulls his shirt back on. “Listen, Ballard, you should feel free to tell me to fuck off, but—”
“Elijah,” Ben says calmly, “fuck off.”
“Oh. Okay.” Yikes, he didn’t really mean it.
They walk back to Elijah’s apartment in silence, and Ben looks like he’s ready to take off in his car as soon as they reach it, but after he pats his pocket for his keys, he sighs quietly.
Flying Free (Rough Love Book 8) Page 13
