Chapter 7 #2
“Got that right,” Benji muttered. Whenever he saw Chet, he was dragged back into a childhood he spent the whole time trying to get out of.
Aunt Nat was a piece of work, but she was steady.
You knew what to expect with her. Every day with Chet was a clusterfuck of mysteries Benji didn’t want to find out.
Why was the door kicked in when he got home?
Why did the whole house smell like smoke, and why were both his parents gone?
Why was he missing a day of school to go to the dump and look for fridges?
“Like…” Max shrugged, his shoulders staying up near his ears at the end of it. “I don’t know. I never really knew the guy, and now he’s making up all this stuff about how he wants me back. It’s bullshit, right?”
“It’s bullshit,” Benji said gently. He still didn’t know how gentle he needed to be about the whole “your dad is lying about wanting custody again” thing.
“Right.” Max sighed and dragged his feet up onto the couch, dirty sneakers and all. “Everyone keeps asking how I feel about it, and it’s like, I don’t know! I just feel weird! I don’t want to feel anything about it, you know?”
“Yeah,” Benji muttered. “I get that.”
“Like, I wish I could just be angry,” Max continued.
“All righteous and stuff. Like if this was a movie, I’d have these badass one-liners about how he means nothing to me.
Which he does! I’ve even imagined saying that stuff to him!
But then I saw him, and… I don’t know. I just wanted him to go away. ”
“Yeah,” Benji repeated softly. He hesitated, then scooched over and pressed his knee into Max’s.
Max leaned against him, arms still crossed heavily over his chest, the orange juice sloshing dangerously against the glass. “Did you get in any badass one-liners?”
Benji couldn’t remember. He had definitely said things, but now it was a blur of anger and hot humiliation and the urge to ram Chet into the wall with a vicious headbutt.
He was surprised to realize that the main urge was the same as Max’s, squirming and uncomfortable in a way that made him think of hiding under tables as a very small child. He wanted Chet to go away.
“You know me,” Benji said. “All one-liners, all the time.”
Max snorted. It was the first smile Benji had seen from him since he appeared at the end of the hall.
Benji knocked their knees together. “So, how was the hangout? Make any robots?”
“No robots,” Max said, and brightened. “We set up a bunch of mugs on ropes and made them swing around each other until one of them broke. Then we narrowed them down match by match until we got the ultimate mug.”
Benji grinned. Max’s childhood was going so differently from his own, full of friendship and adventure instead of isolation and responsibility. It was one of the only things Benji was really proud of.
“Yeah? Who won?”
“JJ’s mom’s mug,” Max said. “Live, Laugh, Love. The reigning champ.”
“Yeah, those guys will pack a punch.” Benji ruffled Max’s hair, leaning harder when Max groaned and tried to lean away. “Want takeout tonight?”
Max beamed. “Can I pick?”
“You picked last time,” Benji said, then paused. “But yeah, alright.”
He headed into the kitchen to find Noah tucking his phone into his pocket.
“Did anyone get fired?” Benji asked.
“Not yet.” Noah kissed him, folding a hand around Benji’s jaw and squeezing comfortingly. “How is he?”
“Fine. Now that he’s had his horrible, fancy orange juice.”
Noah smiled. “Good. We’re almost out, I’ll put some on the list.”
He twisted to grab the pen that was magnetized to the fridge, right next to the list. It was yet another addition since Max and Benji had moved in, and Benji got the feeling that all of Noah’s comments about how useful it was weren’t even for show.
Benji leaned on the counter and watched Noah scribble, thinking back to Noah’s fist in his dad’s shirt.
Anybody who tries to screw with my people deals with me. And you bet your ass that includes Max.
He hadn’t even hesitated. There was still a tiny voice in the back of Benji’s head insisting that Noah didn’t actually care about Max, that it was all a ploy to get Benji’s guard down.
But watching Noah write with that squeaky marker on a list that was, of course, covered in cartoon robots, it was impossible to think of anything but the truth: Noah took care of his people. And that included Max.
“And we’re getting takeout,” Benji added. “He’s choosing.”
“You got it.” Noah capped the pen and stuck it back on the fridge, then headed over to Benji and took his hands. “Is there anything else we can get him? It must be a lot to deal with, especially at his age. We could take him somewhere. Get him away from all of this for a while.”
Benji paused. He hadn’t considered going away. It was the perfect time for it, what with summer vacation.
“Not for long,” Noah clarified. “Just until things settle down. Let the gossip rags lose interest. I can do some PR while we’re gone, look into things with Mikey, make sure things are calmer when we get back.”
A voice piped up from the kitchen doorway. “Like a holiday?”
Benji turned. Max was standing in the doorway with an orange juice mustache, which was soon wiped away and licked off his hand.
“Ew,” Benji complained.
“You’re just a pulp hater,” Max told him. He looked up at Noah with none of the bashfulness or avoidance from earlier. “Could we stay at a fancy hotel again? Can it have a heated pool? Oh, where would we go?”
Noah looked at Benji pointedly. Benji narrowed his eyes. Surely he wasn’t suggesting what Benji thought he was suggesting. But Noah kept watching him, rubbing Benji’s hands patiently.
Benji sighed. “You can pick.”
Max’s excited whoop made up for any sense that they might’ve made the wrong choice.