Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted (21 page)

His face
brightened. “You’re going to take your shirt off?”

“No, pervert, I
was talking about my homemade French Silk pie. You will not be able to resist
its creamy richness.”

“I’ll pass.”

She rested her
hands on her hips. “Well, this is a match made in hell.”

He sat down on
the couch and kicked his feet up. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” She
came around and joined him on the couch, watching him ignore her by watching TV.
“What’s wrong?”

He shook his
head and turned down the TV. “Nothing. Long day at work.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, fucking
Doug. Guy drives me crazy.”

“Why? What’d he
do this time?”

“Just more of the
same old shit. I’m trying to shake it off.”

She leaned back
and crossed her legs. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“I think we should
go over to my parents’ and straighten them out.”

He turned to her
with a scrunched face. “
Straighten them
out
?”

She took his
hand. “Tell them this is the way it’s going to be and they best get used to
it.”

“
Going to be
?”

“Yeah, ya know,
you and me. Together.”

He casually
pulled his hand away to join his other in his lap. “So we’re together now, huh?”

Her face dropped
with her spirits. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are
you acting so weird?”

“I’m not.”

“I thought you’d
be…” A short blast of air burst from her lips as her puzzlement deepened. She
glanced down the hallway to the bedroom where her box of things was sitting on
the floor next to his dresser. “Do you want me to leave? Because I can go.”

“No.”

She studied his
eyes that refused to make contact with her. “I don’t want to make things
weird.”

His somber gaze
finally found her. “Maybe it would be best.”

“Best if what? I
left?”

He twisted his
fingers in his lap without responding.

“Oh my God,” she
muttered. “You’re one of those hot and cold guys, aren’t you?”

He turned away.

“Do you have violent
mood swings? High one minute, lower than dirt the next?”

“No.”

“Tell me about
your meds.”

“I’m not on
meds.”

“Then why are
you acting so weird?”

Ben scooted
further away. “Maybe I just don’t want to be responsible for ruining your life.
Maybe I don’t want to be the one who reminds you of the worst decision you ever
made.”

A sharp laugh
shot from her lips. “Honey, if you think this is the worst decision I’ve ever
made, then you don’t know me at all.”

“You’re right, I
don’t.”

Creases carved
through her forehead like it was made of clay. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How many other
guys have you slept with in a closet before?”

Brooke sharpened
her gaze, heart battering her ribcage. “Walk-in or hall?”

He sighed. “I’m
just not in the position to settle down right now.”

She switched out
her legs, swinging a flour-covered Nike through the air, studying him through
narrow slits. “
Who
have you been
talking to?”

“No one.”

“You are a
terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

Brooke tightened
her steady gaze, her foot swinging faster. “Did you talk to Mandy?”

“No.”

She inhaled
sharply and threw a hand over her heart. “Did my dad find you?”

“No!”

Brooke took her
time evaluating his answers like a patient detective in an interrogation room
with one light and cold concrete walls. “It was Tasha, wasn’t it?”

Ben hedged
before answering. “No.”

“What’d she say
to you?”

He stared
straight ahead, trying to hang onto an unreadable face.

“Tell me what
she said.”

Ben pulled his
red Asics off the coffee table and sat up straighter. “She came into the shop
today and said…Mandy would take you back.”

Brooke screwed
her face up. “I already know, and I’m not going back there! Should I go over to
my ex-boyfriend’s place for dinner next? That won’t be awkward or anything.”

“Tasha said
Mandy will take you back if…”

“If what?”

“If I’m not in
the picture.”

She sighed. “I
am not going anywhere and y’all best get used to it.”

He rested his
feet on the coffee table again. “Suit yourself, sassafrass. Just remember I
tried to warn ya.”

She leaned
against him and rubbed his arm, her fingers melting with his warmth. Goose
bumps rippled across his colorful skin. “Promise me you’ll do what you want to
do and not what anyone else wants you to do, because that’s what I decided I’m
going to do from here on out.”

He found her
eyes and dove in. “I promise.”

“Good. Now, kiss
me like you mean it.”

He lifted her
chin with two fingers and studied every square inch of her face before
following her orders to the tee. He kissed her hard, cradling her cheeks in his
hands and directing her movements to compliment his.

She pulled away,
searching for the breath he had just made off with. “Now, that’s more like it.”

“In the end, I
just want to do what’s best for you.”

The touch of a
smile curled the corners of her lips. “I know you do, sweetie, and that’s why I
want to stay here.”

“But you still
have to make good with your parents.”

“I know,” she
groaned.

“You can’t let
that fester or it will leave a scar.”

She cocked an
eyebrow. “Is this more Abraham Lincoln?”

He smiled, his
shiny rows of teeth winking at her. “So does this mean you’re my girlfriend
now?”

“You should quit
while you’re ahead.”

He leaned back
into the couch and stretched out. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

“I don’t know.
Wanna order some pizza and watch a movie?”

He clapped his
hands together one time. “Yes! What should we watch?”

“What do you
have? Or dare I ask?”

He pointed to
the Blu-rays lining two shelves of the narrow TV stand. “I don’t know if you’re
going to like any of that stuff. We can go rent something.”

Her cell
vibrated in her purse. She got up to track it down. “Tasha,” she grumbled,
studying the screen.

“If she’s
outside with a gun I’m going out the window.”

Brooke read the
text. “She wants to go out tonight.”

Ben twisted
around. “If you want to go out, that’s cool. We can do movies some other time,
just don’t forget your key.”

She dropped the
phone to her side and gave him puppy dog eyes. “Awe, that’s so sweet. You
really don’t mind?”

“No.”

She texted Tasha
back and slipped the cell into her purse. “Okay, I’m going to take a quick
shower and get going,” she said, heading for the bedroom.

Ben watched her
go, his mouth agape. “Kay,” he said, turning up the TV.

She popped back
out of the bedroom and started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m not
ditching out on movie night, silly.”

He sent an
eyebrow bending into the middle of his forehead. “You’re not?”

“You almost
started crying!”

Ben rolled his
eyes and turned back to
SportsCenter
.
“Not even close.”

“Oh whatever!
You get so depressed if I’m not around.”

“God, I can’t
stand you.”

She meandered
closer, seductively nibbling on her lower lip. “Don’t be mad. You can’t help it
if it you’re needy.”

His hand caught
her wrist and pulled her to him. She squealed with laughter and tried to
escape. He laid her across his lap and stared into her eyes, brushing long
strands of hair from her devilish grin. “I’m not needy.”

“I know,” she softly
replied, pulling him to her lips and breathing him in like air she would surely
die without.

He pulled away.
“Although, I do need food.”

“Quit talking.”
She pulled him back to her lips and picked up where they had left off.

***

His movie
collection was horrible. Their tastes were at opposite ends of the spectrum. He
liked
The Strangers
and she loved
Knocked Up
. His movies had gratuitous
violence, hers gratuitous sex. It could literally take them longer to decide on
a movie to watch than actually watching the movie.

She turned to
find him looking at her from the couch. “This is never going to work.”

“What’s never
going to work?”

“You and I.” She
held up a movie. “
30 Days of Night
?
Really?”

“That’s a great
movie.”

She held up
another. “
28 Weeks Later
? Why do all
of your movies start with numbers?”

He shrugged, his
black t-shirt hugging his muscular shoulders. “Hey, that zombie shit could really
go down someday and the more you know…the better chance you’ll have of
surviving.”

“I don’t know if
I’m going to survive the night,” she grumbled, slipping the movies back onto the
shelf and pulling another out.

“I think you’ll
do all right,” he said with a grin.

She hit eject on
the Blu-ray player and put a disc in.

“You seriously
want to watch
The Shining
? Because we
can go rent something else.”

She pulled her
shorts up and plopped down onto the couch next to him. “I’m too tired to leave,
plus the pizza will be here soon.”

Ben watched the
movie load on the screen. “Hope they don’t forget the hot sauce. There is nothing
worse than taco pizza without hot sauce.”

“Why is your
dick tattooed?”

His eyes snapped
over to her. He hesitated before answering. “Lost a bet.”

“Just tell me
the truth.”

“I was wasted
and I lost a bet.”

Her eyes
wrinkled around the corners. “What kind of bet?”

“Eight ball.”

“Oh God,” she
muttered. “Why would you ever make a stupid bet like that?”

“I was wasted!
Remember?”

“How old were
you?”

“Eighteen and I
regret it to this day.” He turned back to the TV with a glum expression. “I
really do.”

Her eyes fell
into his lap. “But The Incredible Hulk? Really?”

“There’s a
hidden message in there when it gets bigger.”

Her eyes rose to
find his staring back. “Like what?”

“A blueprint to
your heart.”

She rolled her
eyes. “So did you do it or did someone else do it for you?”

“The ink?”

“Yeah,
the ink
. Who touched your wiener?”

“Movie’s on,” Ben
said, turning up the TV as the opening sequence filled the wide screen. A
dizzying aerial shot followed a lone VW Bug motoring along a mountainside road
below, sinuously navigating a snaking path with deadly consequences bordering every
passing ridge. “Best opening in movie history,” he whispered over the ominous
music. “Stanley Kubrick, baby.”

“Don’t try
changing the subject,” she said. “And I thought it was Stephen King.”

“King wrote the
book, Kubrick did the movie.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.

Heat flushed her
left side as she snuggled against him, her legs folded to the side on the couch.
They exchanged warm smiles, like young lovers will do, and turned back to the
TV. It was scary how right this felt, like they had been together for years, happily
sharing in one another’s joys and triumphs while nursing the stings of
misfortune along the way. The kind of thing only the elderly can truly come to
know.

“This music is so
creepy.”

“You’ve never seen
this movie?”

She shook her
head.

“The music sets
the mood. Kubrick is a master of setting.”

Brooke leaned
her head on his shoulder and let out a content sigh, watching the little yellow
car languidly carve through a swath of towering pines.

Chapter
Twenty-One

Brooke rinsed out
her coffee mug and grabbed a purple jacket, glancing around the living room as
she put it on. Ben had already cleaned up the pizza box and beer bottles before
leaving for work, the place as clean as a whistle. A smile broke out as she took
off the jacket and draped it over the couch, opting for her black one instead.
She grabbed Ben’s spare key, already anxious to get back here after work. Well,
after going to her parents’ house after work. She sighed. It was going to be another
long day but just knowing she would be back here later tonight made everything
seem okay. Regardless of how far her parents would (or wouldn’t) come around,
nothing could steal her joy today.

A loud knock at
the door startled her. She slung her purse over her shoulder and went to the
peephole. A gray haired lady stared back like she could see Brooke through the
door. The lady’s face fell when the door opened and she saw Brooke, her
complexion nearly as gray as her short cropped hair.

Brooke smiled,
trying to ease the woman’s bafflement. “You must be looking for Ben?”

She glanced into
the apartment. “Is he here?”

“No, he left for
work a little while ago.”

“Oh, I see,” she
responded, stretching each syllable. She held up a plastic bag. “I’m his
mother, Irene, and I wanted to drop this off on my way to the doctor’s.
Normally, I’d just leave it by the door if he wasn’t home.”

“Oh, I’ll take
it,” Brooke said, taking the bag.

Irene held onto
it a split second longer then relented.

“I’m Brooke by
the way.” She couldn’t decide if she should offer her hand or not and opted
against it.

Irene’s gaze
slipped back into the apartment and snagged on the purple jacket folded over
the couch. “Are you staying here?”

Brooke’s cheeks blushed.
“Not really,” she lied, hiking her purse strap further up her shoulder. “Just
visiting.”

“Oh, where
from?”

She swallowed
thickly. “I’m from here.”

Another
longwinded
I see
rolled from Irene’s
wrinkled mouth.

They stood there
in silence for the next few excruciating seconds, Irene eyeballing Brooke, and
Brooke trying not to squirm beneath the weight of those cold blue eyes.

“Well, tell him
I stopped by then.”

“I will. Nice to
meet you,” Brooke said, mustering up a smile that was as fake as the sincerity
in her tone. She watched Irene silently turn around and slowly navigate the
thin hallway carpeting like it was a sheet of slippery ice.

Brooke shut the
door and exhaled a long breath, staring at the bag in her hand. “Oh boy,” she
whispered, setting it down and giving Irene plenty of lead time to vacate the premises
before leaving for work.

***

The sight of her
parents’ yellow house dispelled any warm fuzzies she had collected over the day.
It was after seven o’clock and already dark. Brooke was tired and hungry and
determined to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. Brooke
wasn’t one to hang onto a grudge, preferring to patch things up before they
could – like Ben had said –
fester
.
Despite that, she nearly put the car in reverse and left. Instead, she turned
it off and climbed out.

An odd feeling
sprinkled over her on the front porch, leaving her unsure whether to go inside
like usual or knock first. She chose the former and stepped inside. The smell
of microwave popcorn greeted her.

“Sweet Jesus, it
lives!” Will scrambled over to the sofa table by the door and snatched a silver
cross. He gripped it tightly in his fist and held it up to Brooke’s face. “I
bind whoever is inside of my daughter in the name of the Father, the Son, and
the Holy Ghost!”

Brooke cocked an
eyebrow as her mother sauntered out of the kitchen in slacks and a breezy
blouse that showed off her cleavage.

“Will you please
put that thing down before you poke someone’s eye out?” Laura wrapped Brooke in
her arms and gave her a big hug. She kissed her on the forehead and swept a
lock of hair that had escaped its ponytail from her eyelashes. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, mom.”

Will lowered the
cross and unleashed a sheepish smile. “Sorry, picked it up on Amazon a few days
ago and it just came in the mail today.”

Brooke scrunched
up her nose like something smelled rotten. “You bought a silver cross on Amazon?”

“There were only
two left in stock, Brooke. What was I supposed to do?”

“Why?”

“Probably
because it’s a very popular item.”

“No, why did you
buy a cross?”

He lifted a
shoulder to his ear. “Just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case he’s
crazy,” Laura replied, returning to the kitchen.

Will leaned in closer
and spoke in a gravelly whisper. “In case vampires or demons stop by
unannounced.” He held the cross up to her face and lightly pressed it against
her forehead. “Burns don’t it?”

She folded her
arms across her chest. “Not really.”

He pushed
harder. “How about now?”

“Nope.”

“Now?”

“Nothing.”

He took the
cross back and studied it through bewildered eyes. “I’ll be damned.”

Brooke hit him
with a perplexed frown before following in her mother’s footsteps.

He gave chase. “You’ve
got to admit you’ve been acting a little crazy lately.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Will you leave
her alone?” Laura said, turning off the light above the oven.

“Look, I’m sorry
about everything that happened. I don’t know where to even…”

Laura waved her
off with an unconcerned hand. “Water under the bridge, honey.”

“I just don’t
want you guys thinking less of me.”

Laura hugged her
again and held her out at arm’s length. “We don’t, and never will, think
anything other than what an amazing young lady you have turned into.”

Her mother’s
words made her eyes water.

“Where’s your
box?” Will craned his neck, looking down the hallway to the front door.

Brooke twisted
the car keys in her hands until they left white imprints in her flesh. “It’s…at
Ben’s place.”

Laura arms
dropped to her sides like they were made of concrete. She took a small step
back.

“You’re staying
with him?” Will asked.

Brooke responded
with a shamefaced nod.

“Maybe I should
try the cross again.”

“Would you
rather I lied to you?”

Will cried
yes
as Laura said
no
.

“I really like
him, dad, and he’s not what you think.” She turned to her mother. “You always
taught me not to judge a book by its cover and I am telling you, Ben is a good
man and is good at what he does.”

“Drawing on
people?”

Brooke’s head
jerked to her dad. “He’s an artist, dad, and one that’s in high demand.”

Will let out a
heavy sigh. “Do you have a tattoo now?”

“No, I don’t
have a tattoo.”

His gaze saddened.
“Oh, don’t do this, Brooke, not to us. Not after everything we’ve been through
together.”

“Dad!” she
laughed. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

Will sat down at
the island and tapped an index finger on the soapstone. “Anything you want to tell
us at this moment right here, for a limited time only, comes with full immunity.
Now is your one and only chance to cleanse yourself of your detestable sins.”
He gestured with the cross.

Brooke exchanged
a knowing glance with Laura. “So are we good then, mom?”

She smiled
warmly and took her daughter’s hand. “Of course, we’re good, honey. We’re
always good and there is never any problem - big or small - that can change
that.”

Brooke faced her
father in the tall breakfast bar chair, eye to eye. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

An easy smile
slid across his face. “I am too, baby girl.”

They embraced
and said their goodbyes, Brooke’s stomach suddenly growling. She made her way to
the front door with Laura’s homemade carrot cake to go.

“Brooke?”

“Yeah, dad?” she
said, her hand on the doorknob.

He appeared in
the hallway, a can of Diet Coke in hand. “Why don’t you invite Ben over for
Thanksgiving?”

She stood like
she was made of stone. “Really?”

“If he’s good
enough for you, he’s good enough for me. And I mean that.”

Brooke smiled. “Thank
you, daddy. I’ll ask him.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the front
porch.

“Oh, and hey,
Brooke.”

She turned.
“Yeah?”

“Just stay out
of our closets.”

She shot him a
look that could kill and disappeared into the night before he could change his
mind.

***

Brooke met Ben
at a restaurant around the corner from his place that served cold beer and
greasy pizza late.

“Hey, hot-stuff,”
he said, his face brightening.

“Hi handsome.”
She deposited her purse into the booth before presenting him with a kiss on the
lips. “How are you?”

“Better now.” She
sat down and exhaled a tired breath before taking a sip of the red wine he had
waiting for her.

“Heard you met
my mom this morning.”

Brooke groaned
and set the glass down. With everything else going on today, she had completely
forgotten about Irene. “She stopped by just as I was leaving for work.”

“Did you tell
her we were living in sin?”

Brooke’s head
jerked back like someone had just slapped her. “What? No!”

Ben hid a grin.
“Well, that’s what her little church lady mind dreamt up.”

“Oh, fabulous.”
She shook her head.

Ben reached
across the table and took her hands in his and she let him. “So how’d it go
with your parents? Or do I even want to know?”

She smiled
brightly, the smell of sausage and garlic seeping into their clothing. “My dad
invited you over for Thanksgiving.”

His face fell. “Are
you serious?”

She replied with
a rapid nod.

“Oh my God, he’s
going to kill me.”

“He’s not going
to kill you. It’s water under the bridge as far as they’re concerned.”

“Brooke, it’s a
trap! You said so yourself.”

“That was
before.” She leaned back, the warm fuzzies recharged and tickling her insides
once again. “Things are different now, trust me.”

He leaned across
the table and kissed her softly before staring into her eyes. “I hope you’re
right.”

“I am,” she said,
flipping open a menu. “Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

***

After dinner - which
was loaded with pizza and more digging into Irene’s past - Brooke and Ben
walked down the street toward GT’s Lounge. The crisp night wind tugged at her
hair as they hurried into a dimly-lit bar the size of a photo booth. It smelled
like motor oil and was less than half full, the counters and walls stained
yellow from decades of smoking before the ban. Ashtrays long gone, baskets of
popcorn now sat in their place. Ben ordered beers from a long haired guy
wearing a faded Slipknot t-shirt that was at least a size too small.

Ben tipped him
and ushered the bottles of Dead Guy Ale over to the booth Brooke had
commandeered in his stead. He set the beers down and took off his black leather
coat, smiling down at Brooke like he had just gotten away with murder.

She allowed her
eyes to roam his body before he sat down. From his scruffy cheeks and black
v-neck to his oily dark jeans, her eyes combed every nook and cranny.

“You shoot stick?”

She followed his
gaze to the pool table with a hollowed out motorcycle engine for a light
hanging above it. “Not really.”

“You wanna play
a game?”

Her eyes
wandered to the spattering of people sitting at the bar. Two guys with matching
ponytails and motorcycle jackets looked her way, seeming to will her into
playing a game so they could get a nice butt shot when it was her turn to shoot.
She turned back to Ben and wrinkled her nose. “Not so much.”

“Come on, I’ll
give you some pointers.”

“You already
gave me a
pointer
,” she said coyly,
then taking a quick sip. “A
BIG
one.”

He flashed a
confident smile and fed the table some quarters. The balls fell with a loud
clatter and rolled to the opening at one end. “Just don’t let me catch you
checking my ass out when it’s my shot.”