Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy.
Author's Note: Ardeth always gets the girl and Beni never does, so I thought I would switch things up a bit. This is just a little something I wrote for fun, so enjoy!
Leave Your Morals at the Door
He had fallen asleep in her bed, curled up on the end of the mattress with one skinny arm dangling off the edge. She didn't like keeping him around for more than an hour or two, but she couldn't bring herself to wake him up and kick him into the streets. He acted so nervous all the time, she doubted he got enough sleep most nights, and she would rather watch him sleep than sit up in bed all alone, left with nothing but guilty thoughts and worn out excuses.
She leaned against her pillows and lit a cigarette, taking a strange, guilty pleasure in the scattered clothing that littered her bedroom. There was her dress, a heap of blue fabric lying on the floor. One of her stockings lay crumpled by the dresser, while the other one remained in hiding somewhere. A pair of pants, connected to a pair of suspenders, had ended up beside the bed, and a red fez had landed close by.
She always did like the color red. He would certainly never wear it, since he insisted on draping himself in solid black day in and day out, but she wouldn't spend her evening dwelling on him. She couldn't possibly think of dark eyes and equally dark tattoos when another man lay in her bed, catching the sleep that his nervous body so desperately needed. She puffed on her cigarette and watched him through lazy eyes, thinking that maybe, just maybe she would let him stay the whole night.
Or perhaps not.
His eyes flickered open and he rolled onto his back, causing the religious amulets he wore around his neck to knock against each other. The crucifix, the Star of David, and countless others she didn't recognize. He always refused to remove those necklaces, no matter how many times she complained about them, and now they jingled together like the bells her sister's dog wore on his collar.
"Let me have a drag," he said, eying up her cigarette.
"You just woke up," she told him.
"I know," he said. "And I'd like a drag."
"Find your own cigarette."
"It is easier to borrow yours."
She couldn't help but smile at his use of the word "borrow." She didn't even know that word was in his vocabulary. "I'm not going to let you borrow my cigarette, Beni," she said calmly, holding it out of his reach. "I'll never get it back."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know you, that's how."
He muttered something in one of his languages—he knew so many, she could never tell them apart—and settled for watching her blow smoke through the warm, heavy air. How different Beni was from him. Ardeth never smoked. He never drank either and tried to get her to quit, but she always brushed his gentle urgings aside. Perhaps if Ardeth wasn't so kind and unceasingly good, she would be spending the evening with him instead of sitting in bed with another man.
She wasn't good enough for a man like Ardeth; that was the simple truth. The smiling face she gave him each day was nothing but a lie, just a mask to cover the darkness that drove her into bed with the likes of Beni Gabor.
"Here." She offered her cigarette to Beni, who continued to lie back and watch her. "Take it."
He smirked at her. "But you won't get it back."
"I'll light another one."
He took the cigarette from her fingers and stuck it in his mouth, taking a long drag, and she didn't mind that he forgot to thank her. She didn't mind any of his faults, horrible though they were, and she didn't know why she liked him, but she did. He had no likeable qualities. He wasn't handsome, had no morals to speak of, and wasn't even rich, and yet she liked him enough to put up with his company night after night.
She reached out and touched one of the amulets that hung around his neck, a foreign shape she didn't know. "You ever pray when we're having fun?"
"What kind of question is that?" said Beni.
"I'm just curious, that's all."
"So what if I do?"
"Well what do you pray about?"
"I pray that your desert man doesn't come in here and catch me," said Beni. "And that we don't end up with unwanted kids. And of course I pray that you are as good in bed as always."
She released the amulet and laughed, too amused to be offended. Ardeth would never dream of saying something like that, especially to her. He was Ardeth the Gentleman, Ardeth the Perfect, and she never realized how much he bored her until she ran into Beni a couple of months before.
She obviously had something wrong with her. Too much sun and desert air had turned her head, perhaps. Any other women would kill to have a man like Ardeth look at them the way Ardeth looked at her, and she paid back all of his kindnesses by sleeping with a man who was just the opposite. She supposed she wasn't suited to a man who had no faults, though she was far too cowardly to tell the truth and risk hurting Ardeth.
She supposed she could blame her sister and her brother-in-law, who were anthropologists studying desert tribes, but nobody had forced her to spend time with Ardeth. Nobody had forced her to fall for his kind, dark eyes and his accented voice, or to be won over by his skills in battle. Nobody had forced her to accept his gifts or allow him to kiss her chastely when they were alone, since he wouldn't touch her unless they were married.
Nobody had forced her to cheat on him either. She had only herself to blame.
Beni placed her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table, then turned his head to face her once more. "What is the name of that desert man, anyway?"
"Why do you want to know?" she asked.
"I want to know whose girlfriend I have stolen."
But she wouldn't give his name. To speak Ardeth's name would be a full betrayal, and for all her restlessness she still cared about Ardeth, even if she couldn't love him the way he expected her to.
"It doesn't matter," she told Beni. She scooted closer, not caring if his amulets dug into her skin as she pressed against his body, and lost herself to sin. "It doesn't matter at all."