Chapter 2
Benson
When his mind was such a jumbled mess, there were two places he could retreat, and one was alcohol.
I’m too old for that shit. Benson had once done that, though.
Lost himself in drink (and other vices) for so long that he came dangerously close to addiction.
It was the intervention of his partners at work and his own daughter, when she was older, that kept him sober in the long run.
The last time I got that way... When he broke up with Liam, spiraling Benson into a bender that lasted almost three months before he realized Sydney was making up reasons to keep Drew at her place because their daughter had expressed fear about her father’s state of mind.
So, if he wanted to navigate his embarrassment and bad memories without getting drunk, he had to rely on the second thing.
“You’re back,” said a man only a few years older than Benson.
He extended a hand for a shake before gesturing for Benson to share a table with him.
Already, the luncheon was filled with other gentlemen in their business best. Many had offices to return to or meetings to attend after this, even on a weekend.
But for two hours, they ate here, had a few drinks, and socialized.
Or networked, as Liam once called it. Yeah, network with their libidos.
“I sure am.” Benson kept his back to the wall as he beheld the familiar faces around him.
The man who had welcomed him, Ken Andrews, asked one of the male servers for a fresh carafe of ice water since theirs was already depleted.
The flirting that went on between the two would have made Benson roll his eyes if he could think that far ahead.
Young men trying to find sugar daddies are not my idea of a good time. Now, young women on the other hand…
He could be such a hypocrite.
“You pop in sometimes,” Ken said, clapping a hand on Benson’s arm before retracting it again, “but none of us thought you’d visit twice in a row. Especially with…”
They both glanced at another table in the far corner, where Liam laughed uproariously at someone’s joke. Besides his ex, Benson didn’t recognize anyone over there.
“We’re all right,” Benson said, much to Ken’s relief. “I’m all right, I guess.”
More familiar faces, eager to say hello to him, arrived before the first course was served.
The Gentleman’s Agreement was a monthly social club for “men of a certain persuasion” that never asked for labels, but did ask for discretion.
Glad they don’t want any damn labels. Benson hated them.
Some were resolute, like father and forty-five, but when it came to gender, sexuality, and even what he cared most about in work and play, it hurt his head.
A part of him missed the days when all he had to do was gesture to what he liked to do, and everyone understood.
Now, he was required to put a million labels on his heart and loins.
Then again, most of the men at his table were older and also not as inclined toward labels.
Because while most would call this a “gay” club, most of the men there were happily married to women that they enjoyed healthy sex lives.
Especially this asshole. Ken and his wife, Lara, were notorious on the club circuit for vacuuming up every unsuspecting newcomer for their fun and games.
I would know. Happened to me once. Somehow, though, never Liam…
Did that make Benson special?
Ken always laughed when someone quipped that he was “omniquasipansexual,” but there were others, like James Merange and Quintin Locke, who “went with the flow.” Quintin was currently in between relationships, with his last serious one with a man, but most of his dating history was like Benson’s.
In another life, they were probably good friends.
“Word on the street is that you’re having dinners with some cute lady,” James said as they ate their soup and salad course.
“How would anyone know?” Benson asked.
“Because my Gwen used to be a bartender, you know. She still knows everyone working in hospitality around here. Anyway, don’t ask questions. Once you’ve been out to eat with the same woman five times, we all know about it.”
“I hear she’s more than that,” Quintin said, his fingers slowly massaging the top of his jawline. “Especially for a La Mariposa frequent flyer.”
Benson narrowed his gaze at him. “What is this? Since when are you all a bunch of gossiping women? I come here to talk about anything but women.”
“Even when you’re dating one?”
“Especially when I’m dating one.”
Ken held up his drink. “Cheers to that.”
Benson had long learned to establish such boundaries, and it hadn’t just taken a good therapist to help him with that.
Freakin’ Liam. The man who was over there, laughing, and probably flirting, knowing him.
Every time Benson envied him for how open and comfortable with himself he was, he was reminded that they had traveled different paths.
Benson knew almost better than anyone that Liam’s military family wanted nothing to do with him unless money and grandchildren were involved.
Another reason he was probably open to fathering Libby’s kids.
If he could say, “Look, I’ve had kids. With a woman!
” then it was a win for the Ashe clan. But Liam spent as much time dating men as he did women, despite women being the fulcrum between him and Benson.
The real reason Benson didn’t want to talk about Eden, even cryptically? I’d have to open all that shit up.
Besides, he wasn’t into gossip. He’d listen to it, especially if it was particularly juicy, but he didn’t like sharing. It was bad enough that people had figured out he was dating a woman young enough to be his daughter.
Another boundary he had long established at The Gentleman’s Agreement was no flirting.
He did not come here to find dates or to get wrapped up in someone’s marriage.
Not anymore, anyway. No, the reason Benson used to come here all the time was because it was the closest thing to a safe space at this income level.
He could talk about all of his exes without raising eyebrows or people asking for clarification.
He could discover which clubs, retreats, and even schools lacked bigotry.
These men were at the forefront of knowing who to make nice with and who to avoid.
Once Benson’s divorce went through and he allowed himself to be “true,” it was important that he stay on top of these things.
Like an idiot, I introduced Liam to these people. Now, there he was, discussing the male-only event at La Mariposa last year. Benson had not gone to that – but apparently Liam had.
I’m not jealous.
At his table, these forty-to-fifty-year-old men often had wives, children, and stable careers that afforded them a lavish lifestyle.
Benson kept the conversation about moves to the Maldives and vacations to the Vatican going because they interested him more than anything else.
The food was good, too, although the real reason he was here…
Well, if he were honest with himself, he was here to bump into Liam.
The man had been at Benson’s place often since the debacle with Eden, and not for romance.
Liam had kept Benson sober, whether they openly admitted it or not.
Every time Benson thought about grabbing his bottle of vodka, Liam expertly redirected him to ginger ale to soothe his sour stomach.
All while they relived some of the worst moments of their engagement.
All while they laughed fondly about Violet or shook their heads over Libby.
The only time they talked about Eden was when Liam reassured him for the hundredth time that she probably doesn’t care, dude. She’s just shocked.
Deep down, Benson still felt shame. He was hounded by guilt. Toward himself, for quashing down that part of his sexuality for so long, and from his marriage, which officially ended when he came out to Sydney.
It was already over by then. Sydney had tearfully asked Benson if they could survive if she didn’t want to be a swinger anymore.
He promised that keeping his family together was more important than sex with other people – and it had been true.
But to keep going, he had to get everything off his chest, including his attraction to other men.
Ah, he knew that would be the final straw.
While Sydney was never outwardly a bigot, Benson knew – his ex-wife had been piled with so many “surprises” that she just wanted out.
And, in truth, so did Benson. I begged her to stay.
But it was more out of fear of the unknown than an undying love for her.
Liam knew all this. Just like he knew that Benson was an absolute man-ho once he had moved into his current place and was no longer beholden to what Sydney liked and wanted.
Men. Women. People who were neither, and everything in between.
He had probably fucked them. He was drunk (and later, high) half his weekends, but the latter was more a result of the stressful divorce and his midlife crisis than anything else.
He met Liam after sobering up and coming to terms with who he was. Everything had been good…
“If you keep glancing at him,” James said halfway through dessert, “I’m gonna slap a blindfold on you. The unsexy kind.”
Benson had no idea he had been staring at the back of Liam’s head again. “Shut up.”
He hung back to chat with a few people in the bar, but it was Liam he was waiting for. As soon as everyone else left, Liam approached, as if he knew he was being summoned.
“Everything good?” he asked.
Benson finished the last of the soda water he had ordered at the bar. “Fine. She came by my place a couple of days ago.”
Liam didn’t ask what that meant. “You two good?”
Benson winced. “We need to talk.”
Liam perched on the stool next to him. “Here?”
“You got somewhere you need to be?”
“No.”
“Then come with me.”