4. MAX
Sammy’s Diner was my favorite spot to get breakfast at all hours of the day.
Since I could work odd hours, especially with the markets all over the world, I could always rely on Sammy’s to be open, to deliver the most over-roasted and bitter coffee that my taste buds were used to, and I also required some days to keep my eyes open.
I didn’t invite just anyone here, so bringing Benji was strange.
To sit across from someone at the booth.
He didn’t ask for it, I offered. He wasn’t looking to make a buck off me, and that was refreshing.
The usual pitch I got from guys—who liked similar things to him, and played that submissive role—was that they wanted money to support their lifestyle, and in return I got to fuck them, but that wasn’t me.
“They do a great milkshake too,” I said.
His eyes scanned the fold-out menu, his feet kicking around with excitement, occasionally catching the underside of his chair.
I was the guy who wanted to care, to feed, to clothe, to bath, to see smiles from genuine happiness and not the illusion of happiness they put on so they could show off for their friends.
I never fell for it, even if they tried constantly at the Playhouse.
“Strawberry,” he said as a belly rumble came right out of him. “I promise I eat well, I just—”
“I get it,” I said. “Clubs are expensive, alcohol is expensive, and if you don’t eat much, you get a faster buzz. It’s a neat trick. But I want you to eat, whatever you want.”
He smirked and leaned in over the table. “The little in me is giggling so hard, I kinda wanna get everything, but I—I’m not gonna, that would be wasteful.”
I leaned in as well. I didn’t care if people saw how close we got. “Whatever you don’t eat, they’ll box up.”
He giggled. “I won’t, though.”
The waitress came back around—Eve, with her large nest of red ringlet curls held back by a bandana. We were familiar, and usually she’d just bring me a coffee and a slice of apple pie, but tonight was different, tonight I’d brought Benji.
We ordered a lot of food, and as it rained outside, we got cozier in the diner booth.
The food slowly trickled out and we settled into conversation about each other.
I could tell he had questions about my work, my job, and how much money I could guestimate at having.
They were questions everyone had, but he didn’t want to ask them now—maybe earlier, off that daiquiri he had at the club, but right now, he’d mellowed.
“Tell me one conspiracy theory you believe in,” I said, taking a French fry and dipping it into the mayonnaise. “The wildest one.”
“Aliens, but I think everyone believes in aliens,” he said. “I wanna think of something crazier.”
“Please,” I chuckled. “I’ve heard some wild ones, so bring it.”
He looked away, stabbing his fork into the pancake soaked in syrup.
“The wildest,” he mumbled. “I think—okay, let me get this right in my head. I think we’re all spies, like, our brains when we sleep are uploaded into the universe, and like, we’re all sleeper agents, so that if someone says a phrase to us, we activate and become a different person.
” His face is completely deadpan. It was a new theory for me.
“I hope not,” I said. “So, you think we’re all being controlled?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but you hear about those people who just become different people.
I think they’ve been activated,” he said.
“But I do binge a lot of crime and drama shows, so I’m highly influenced by plots that happen.
” He gave me a smirk. “What if it was a string a words? What would yours be?”
“To describe me, or do you mean completely random?”
Benji shrugged, but I knew he was just trying to figure me out a little more.
He knew my name, he could easily have searched me online, but he hadn’t reached for the phone in his pocket since picking it up at the coat check.
“I’ll go first, maybe. So, like, teddies, pastel, books, juice, law, or something. ”
“I’ll give it a go,” I said, scooping another fry with mayo and devouring it. “Boss, cuffs, control, caretaker, cuddles.” My voice went quieter as my lips curved to a large smile. “Do you think that’s true?”
“From what I’ve seen, yes, but maybe the first one should also start with a C,” he said.
“And if it did, maybe it would activate me,” I chuckled. “I wonder what I’d become, maybe some feral being who demanded control instead of asking for it.”
Benji nodded his head slowly. “And what would I become?”
“You’d be right where you want to be, living in your pleasure, constantly.”
“Mhm, I like that. Actually, I think my sleeper agent thing is a song, you know, the start of ‘Bills, Bills, Bills’ by Destiny’s Child. That wakes something in me.”
He chuckled.
“You’re cute.”
Beneath the table, our feet were locked in play, like the arms of an octopus suctioning themselves together. I’d never been so physically attached to someone else before, especially not someone from the club, but here I was, ready to ruin a streak, and break rules.
“You’ve got my cell number, right?” I asked him.
“Yeah, you gave me your card.” He snorted. “Are you leaving?”
“Soon,” I said, regret in my voice. “But I can have a car take you wherever you need to go. It’ll save you a walk in the rain.” I glanced at the thin windbreaker jacket he’d brought with him.
He giggled. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”
“It’s been a really nice evening,” I told him.
“Honestly,” he said, pausing for us both to notice he was adhering to one of the rules. “I think you saved my night from being awful, and I’m sorry for maybe being an ass when we first met. I’ve been around lawyers and the law for so long my brain is always trying to understand someone’s angle.”
“And what angle did you find from me?”
He smirked, looking away again, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. “We kinda did your angle,” he let out. “It was a lot of fun. Thank you. And for the food. And the stuffy.”
“You’ve thanked me enough,” I told him. “I’ll make sure you get home okay, and you’ve got to keep in touch. I wanna know how you do on the LSATs.”
“I will,” he whispered. “Thank you, Daddy.”
* * *
Two Weeks Later
Benji had continued to linger on my mind. I tried not to pry into him, even if I was the type of guy to run background checks on everyone I met. Playhouse was the respite from that; it gave my mind a safety net from overthinking and was just fucking.
He hadn’t texted or called or even shown up at the club again.
I was so sure he’d call; I was so sure he’d ask to meet again, and he hadn’t.
Not a smoke signal or carrier pigeon either.
He’d made a Benji-sized dent on the mattress in the hotel room I kept, and I’d hoped he’d fill it again, but after two weeks, it was looking less likely.
I sat across from a board of men. All dressed in the only suits they had with the mild smell of sweat pungent in the air, these men were talking about quarterly reports.
It was one of the downsides of investing, that sometimes they wanted you in their offices, wanted you to see how good they’d been—as if I was all of their Daddies, as if they needed my approval, when what I knew they wanted was additional funding.
“Looks great,” I let out, flipping through the wire-bound booklet in front of me.
Two people clapped. My mind had wandered too far, to the point I’d almost forgotten who they were, and what they were doing.
It was a mobile app, and they were talking customer base growth, about the lack of funds for the additional hands it would take for some of their roll out.
It was right there on their last section, labeled under next steps and company growth.
Their lawyer, the only one who’d been smiling in the room, slipped papers across to me. He got paid either way it seemed.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got another appointment across town.”
They all seemed to smile and nod. I wasn’t in the right mind to invest more money.
I didn’t know what they were doing here anymore.
I left my seat, buttoned up my shirt, and walked out to the stale smell in the office.
Start-ups were fun to invest in, even the ones that smelled like frat houses and were sprayed with Febreze just before I walked in to mask it.
My appointment didn’t exist. I just needed an out. I knew when I was on the edge of recklessness, and tiptoed away from the edge whenever it happened. I went to the diner in the hope of seeing him.
He knew I loved the diner, and he knew I’d be at the club, but maybe I’d given him the impression I was done with him. I was far from done with him. All that talk of a next time was still on my calendar, or it would be whenever he was next around me.
It went against my rules on communication, on patience, on being the calm I wanted to see in others. I didn’t expect him to completely ghost me, he didn’t strike me as a brat, but then again, I’d had a couple of vodka sodas and I took pity on him for being lonely.
Every ding at the door, I looked. Every person passing me, I looked.
But he wasn’t there. I had resources at my fingertips to find him, but that would betray the trust and break the respect of him not wanting to contact me. I did everything right. He was just so different from all the other guys, and maybe it was his plan all along to ignore me.
Eve came back around, filling my coffee cup. “Fix that handsome face,” she chuckled. “It might stay that way.”
I’d been looking at the information I’d brought with me from the office, but only in a way that meant my eyes were on it. Behind them, I wasn’t taking any notice. “Thanks,” I chuckled back, relaxing my forehead. “I’ll take a club sandwich to take out.”
“Alrighty,” she said. “Anything else?”
I sighed and shook my head. “That’s everything.”