As much as I hated to admit it, Ben was the only "real" friend I had left in
this lousy town. Real, as in "Before They Were Rock Stars" real. As in
when he'd bring me mix tapes in one hand and jello shots in the other,
keeping me happy with work. Friends.
Friends did not fuck other friends' friends.
Friends did not tell you this, even if they did.
Friends didn't make you seethe.
Friends comforted you, held, you, understood you. Friends sang to you in
cramped apartments. Took you for a ride to celebrity status.
I sighed. Darren. Would I call him? *Could* I? Not when I had so little
to say. Not when the first words out of my mouth would be sobbing
apologies, I knew it. Begging. And then would come the stony silence on
the other end of the line, and a quiet click and then dial tone.
I shook my head. I was getting carried away. Damn that man. Why did
he have to call? I snorted, and applied a little more pressure to my
sluggishly bleeding palm. My dream of him finally calling, his tossing the
ball into my court, comes true, and what do I do? Dash it all to hell, that's
what. Chicken shitted bastard, that's me. Christ.
I listened to the message twice, three times, trying to figure out any
semblance of emotion from him. Just that timidity, the nervousness. Must've taken some stones to make the call. More than I have, anyway.
The date on the message was only two days ago. What was this, an
unscheduled Savage Garden reunion? Fuck with Daniel week, more like
it. I went to the bathroom for some gauze.
In the mirror, there, was a person I did not know. Dark circles under his
eyes, unkempt hair, ragged stubble from forgetting to shave. He looked
like death warmed over. This man was not me, I refused to believe it.
How could Ben look so impassive, and I be so completely gone? The last
day had struck me harder than I had realized.
After I bandaged my hand, I went to listen to my other messages, hoping I
had more from Darren. None of them were from anyone important. Like I
said, no one worthwhile calls me anymore.
The phone rang, and I jumped away from it, hitting my hand and swearing
as a sharp wave of pain washed over me. I nervously hit the receive button.
"Hello?" I greeted anxiously.
"Heya Danny," came Ben's voice over the line. I scowled. See? No one
worthwhile.
"Hey," I answered, anger edging into my tone. I took a calming breath to
smother it.
"I wanted to apologize for this afternoon. I know you and Dar are on
rough terms, I shouldn't have brought him up." He didn't sound particularly sorry, just bored.
"You shouldn't have fucking slept with him," I snarled. His silence hit me
in reply. I sighed, and felt bad. I was alienating the only person who
knew me in this city.
He cleared his throat. "Look, you wanna get together? Trade war
stories over a pint?"
I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he meant by war stories. But my
apartment was becoming less and less appealing, and I couldn't remember if
I had any more alcohol in he place. I didn't know what was worse: staying by myself, or going out with Ben. "Yeah, sure," I said. "My place in 20.
I need time to get ready."
I heard his laugh. "I'll say."
~*~*~*~
By the time the sharp rap sounded on my door, I had figured out why Ben
had apologized. You see, Ben is not the type that simply feels remorseful
for something that he does to injure another. No. If that were the case, Ben would not be in the profession he is in. The only time Ben ever says
anything, it is with the belief that he is helping. In his own twisted way,
Ben was warning me of something. And possibly sharing some of his guilt.
I hoped he felt guilty, the bastard. Served him right.
I finally steeled myself to ask him halfway into our second pitcher of
Corona.
"Warning you?" he said with a frown. "What the fuck are you harping on,
Dan?"
I fiddled with the salt shaker on the bar. "When you...This afternoon?
Why did you tell me that, if you weren't just bragging?"
He took another slug of his beer. "I guess I was boasting a bit. But the
truth is..." he paused, and looked right at me. "Daniel, you gotta promise
me you won't overreact if I tell you this." He looked genuinely worried. I
nodded my consent, probably too eagerly.
He was looking right at me, and it was unnerving.
"Dan, he *asked* me to sleep with him. Revenge," he said the word
thoughtfully. "He hoped it would injure you immensely." He scoffed and
looked away suddenly, ashamed of his admission. "I guess it did."
I clutched the side of the bar dizzily. Was Darren even capable of that kind
of evility? I was learning by the hour just the length of how we'd injured
each other. It was no wonder he didn't want to even be in the same room
with me anymore. Ben was watching me with poorly veiled concern.
"Why did you accept?" I blurted, the words out of me before I even
realized it was such a vital question.
Ben turned bodily to me now. "Because I was jealous."
My gaze intensified. "What?" I spat.
"Jealous!" he snarled back. "Of him! Of you! Of the two of you happily
ever after!" He avoided my gaze now. "Once he came, you were
just...gone. He replaced me on the friendship ladder. I was jealous of him
for having what he did with you, jealous of you for finding him so
willing--" He stopped that line abruptly. "It wasn't the first time he'd
propositioned me," Ben said.
I made some inarticulate burble of anger.
"I finally broke down, mostly in revenge against you as he was. Punishing
you for throwing him away like that. Darren is..." he drifted again.
"Why am I learning about this now, if this was such an elaborate plan for
revenge?"
Ben smiled wryly. "Ironic...he made me swear not to tell, after it was over.
This afternoon when we were talking--"
"Pure maliciousness," I interjected. He nodded slowly.
"Probably," he conceded, and pulled out a fresh pack of Lucky Strikes.
"Wasn't until I thought pretty hard about it when I finally realized how
miserable you acted without him. You'd think somebody cut off your dick
or something." As the cigarette was lit, Cool Ben returned. He'd just
admitted to me in the past twenty minutes more than he had in our whole
now quasi-friendship.
Jealous. I never thought Ben would be jealous of anything I had. He was
always the one who had the easy life, the one who rolled with the
punches. I could see the anger flickering in his eyes. Anger that I had
something that he couldn't attain. He could get all the ass he wanted for
the rest of his life and never touch what Darren and I had.
Had. Past tense.
We sat silent for a moment before I spoke again.
"He called me," I said quietly.
He cigarette dangled dangerously with shock. "What?" he pressed
immediately. "When?"
"Two days ago. I just got the message today when I got home."
He nodded slowly, and then stubbed out his light in an ashtray. "Come on,
let's get out of here." He threw a wad of bills on the bar and stood.
"To go where?" I asked.
"My place," he answered. "I found a place this afternoon, figured you
wouldn't want me around after what I'd said. I've got something you'll
want."
With that, he slipped easily into the sea of people, and I hastened so as
not to lose him.
continued in part five...