Chapter 12
12
BENNY
W hen I set my goals for the year back in January, they were all along the lines of building back trust in the organization and making sure stakeholders feel a sense of belonging and loyalty.
I planned to do more with the Boys and Girls Club local chapters. Nowhere on that list for the year did I jot down ‘sneak around with old girlfriend’. Yet here we are, and I know her work schedule and the hours when she has to help her mom out with therapy and around the house. It’s committed to memory because those are the markers that our time together has to pivot around. For my part, I’ll shuffle meetings, end conference calls early, send an email instead of meeting face to face.
Dad questions me one morning when I say I am leaving for a couple of hours. A flood of resentment and defensiveness surges up in me—I’ve spent every waking hour protecting his disintegrating reputation and shoring up his business for years and he begrudges me a couple of hours? I make myself roll my shoulders, take a slow breath. The frustration falls away—he is struggling with his health, his mortality, his pride, and doesn’t need my aggravation taken out on him.
“Just some stuff I have to take care of. I’ll be back for the meeting with Grigo at one.”
He snorts and stuffs his hands in his pockets, walks out of my office. He looks a little lost, sending a wave of sadness over me. I message Daisy that I’m on my way. We’ve only met up a couple of times since she came here to dump the flowers I’d sent her mom.
I’d see her all the time if I could, but I won’t tell her so. I’ve been up front about wanting to spend time with her while she’s in town. I have a sense—or a superstition—that if I ask her how long she plans to stay or what her plans are that she’ll pull away from me. It’s humbling to know this about myself—that I’ll take her however I can have her. Even if it means coloring inside the lines so to speak, accepting what she’s willing to give without asking for more. If I’m too serious about this, if I pressure her for more, then I’ll lose what we have.
It's a quick drive to the coffee shop. I go early so I can grab her a caramel iced coffee and a muffin. She meets me in the parking lot, locks her car and gets into my truck. It’s a rush seeing her there, sitting across from me, her peach lotion scent filling the cab. I breathe in deeply, and it feels like I’m getting high off her scent, her bright eyes and the shock of delight on her face when I hand her the coffee drink.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, Benny,” she says.
“I know that. I wanted to.”
Daisy leans across the seat and takes my arm, leans her head on my shoulder for a minute, hugging my arm. Honestly, it feels better than anything I can think of right now. It’s pure affection and happiness. She’s light and energetic, tells me about her client yesterday who wanted a style Daisy didn’t think would work for her.
“I talked her out of it, but it was a close call. She would’ve been unhappy with it, and when people asked who did her hair…it would’ve been me. That’s not good word of mouth advertising,” she says.
“You did the right thing,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says. “Do you mind if I--?” she indicates the radio. I nod.
Daisy turns on the radio and flips through stations until she finds a song she likes. She leans back against her seat and belts out the lyrics.
“Still a Chainsmokers fan,” I say, cutting my eyes to her. She doesn’t stop singing, just grins at me.
“You look surprised.”
“That you remember what bands I liked years ago, yeah,” Daisy says.
“I paid attention,” I say with a shrug, trying to make light of it.
“You always did,” she says, and she sounds a little sad.
I take her to my place, let her in to the brownstone and turn on the lights. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “I love the floors—are they original?”
“Yeah, I had them refinished, they were pretty beat up when I moved in.”
She takes in the deep green walls, the wide white trim, an approving gaze. Then she goes to the photos on the wall, the moody black and white ones. She studies them, looks over her shoulder at me and then back at them.
“These look familiar,” she says.
“Sure, they’re of Coney Island,” I say, waiting to see if she recognizes them.
“I took these, Benny,” she finally says. “I remember this day. We went to the Wall of Remembrance—this one here—that’s one I took of the Cyclone lit up at night, and that’s the parachute jump. Why do you have these on your wall?”
“The photographer had a great eye. You sent me the black and white edits you did—I think it was when you were into Lightroom for a while. I printed them, and I was gonna frame them, surprise you or whatever.”
“But I left,” she supplies.
“When I moved in here, I found the prints in with some papers. They’re on my wall because I like them.”
She sets her coffee down on an end table and turns to me. “That was a good day, wasn’t it?” she says with a sigh.
I come up behind her, wrap my arms around her. She leans back into me, we fit together perfectly. It takes my breath away how good this feels, how right. I want to ask her to stay with me. I tell myself to slow down, that we’re different people now and she’s not here permanently. Our time is short, and I won’t waste any of it talking about what we failed at, what we can’t have.
I whisper to her, “Do you want to take this slow?”
“We never did take it slow,” she says with a soft laugh. “It sounds stupid, but I’m so used to planning everything out and controlling every last detail. I don’t want to make a timeline or a checklist for this. I want this the way that comes naturally. I didn’t see this coming, never imagined I’d be back with you or that you’d be on my mind all the time. “
“Careful, you’ll crush my ego, making it sound like you haven’t pined for me every day since you left town,” I say, kissing her neck. She tilts her head to give me better access. I take the encouragement and slide my hands up to cover her breasts, loving the heat of her skin, the weight of her breasts, her nipples tightening, stiff when I pluck at them.
“I could do this all day,” I murmur against her ear. “You’re so sensitive. Look at you, so beautiful.”
Daisy reaches back for my neck, bringing my face to hers for a kiss. It’s a relief, that kiss, and I realize how badly I need her. I want to say things that would scare her off. Instead, I kiss her deep and slow, working her mouth even as I track my hand down her belly and dip my fingers in the front of her shorts. Instantly I’m rewarded with her slickness, how wet she is, how much she thinks of me, and how excited our arrangement makes her.
“You can have this anytime you want,” I tell her, nipping her earlobe.
“Really?” she says. “I’m supposed to call you up anytime like I’m ordering an Uber”
“If Uber is providing this kind of service you need to tip really well,” I joke, sucking her neck in a way that draws the sweetest sound from her lips. She turns to me and puts her arms around my neck, her face tipped up to look at me seriously.
“I’m not gonna call you and expect you to drop everything for me.”
“Part of me wants you to. The other part of me—my brain,” I say and she grins, “Knows that we’re responsible adults now, with jobs and family obligations. So, we steal whatever time we can.”
“I’m busy the next few days. I’ve got work, stuff with my mom and her doctor’s appointments.” she trails off.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“I won’t be able to sneak away.” She steps back and leans on the arm of a chair. “I’m playing with fire here. I know better.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean your job was dangerous when we were teenagers. Now it’s about a hundred times more so. It’s just suit-and-tie grown up danger.”
“Hey, you don’t have to worry,” I say, taking her by the arms, “You’re safe with me. You always have been.”
“Until you get stabbed or shot again? Until somebody decides to make a move on the organization and—” she looks so worried, her voice is frantic. I cover her mouth with mine, kiss her until she melts in my arms. I make her feel safe the best way I know how. By making love to her.
When I’m holding her in my arms, she looks up at me, but the worry isn’t gone from her eyes. It makes me feel cold somehow, like she’s not sure about this. When her phone rings, she jumps up, gets dressed and I drive her back to her car so she can take her mom to therapy. She hops out of the truck with a ‘thanks’ and I stop myself from calling after her.
I have a meeting with Grigo to handle and that’s going to take all my communication skills. He’s always been a volatile bastard and that was before my dad insulted him. There’s no time for me to get out of the truck and kiss my lover goodbye.