6:15
Alison Coffin struts out of her bedroom, her heels clicking on the linoleum hallway. A silk, red dress hugs each of her perfectly sculpted curves tightly and her blonde hair is pulled into a tight bun. She reaches the end of the hallway, "Ben, father just called and said to take the rest of the night off, and I'm going to go out with Aurora." She leans against the doorframe, her arms draped loosely across her chest, "Why don't you go see you friends? It is Christmas, you know."
He swivels the chair so it's facing her, and meets her eyes, "No, I really have to finish up these papers. Doubt they'd want me there anyway. Go, have fun, me and Evita can take care of ourselves."
Alison chuckles, then furrows her perfectly arched eyebrows, "Where is the little darling, anyway?"
"She was out on the balcony." Benny stands up and stands next to Alison, "Go, you know Aurora hates it when you're late."
"I'm not late, stop avoiding the subject. If you just went to talk to them, I'm sure they would understand." Alison reasons, "Tom is very understanding."
"He is." Benny agrees, "Roger and Maureen aren't. You don't understand the way the two of them work." He gingerly kisses her pale cheek.
"I'd understand them if you gave me the chance." She whines in a way that reminds Benny of Maureen.
He chuckles, "Ali, you guys would eat each other alive. Collins is the only one you could tolerate, and that's not a high level."
"I adore Tom. Anyone that he likes must be a fine person. I have met them, you know, and we didn't kill each other. Maureen seems pleasant."
Benny snorts. Loudly. "You met them when Roger was in withdrawal, we were all different people then." He wraps an arm around her small torso, "I really have to get this work finished. Go." He kisses her once more and shoves her gently out the door.
"Okay, I'm going!" she waves lightly, and is gone.
6: 26
Benny sighs and sits back in his chair, scanning over the paper in front of him. He taps his foot along with the beat of the drum coming from the street below. I wonder if Roger relapsed again, Benny wonders, then internally slaps himself, it's not you problem anymore, Ben, you're above his junkie problems. He seems content with that and continues with his work. He skims through some papers, signing and dating the bottoms of each. Suddenly, something hits him. Christmas. One year. One year since April. Images swarm his mind. April's body caked in blood. Roger sobbing and trembling in Mark's arms. Maureen crying into a pillow. Collins scrubbing the horrifying words off the wall. He shakes his head to bring himself back to reality. He grasps the phone and brings it to his ear, pausing for a moment and placing it back on the base. What, did he think he was gonna comfort Roger? A lot of fucking good that would do.
8:30
Hours pass, and Benny has completed all his work. The TV seems promising, he decides, heading for the living room. He props his bare feet up on the table and flips through the channels. A Spanish soap opera. A cheesy holiday movie where the dog has puppies. A parade in some city he doesn't give a rat's ass about. He flicks the screen off and leans back, running a hand over his baldhead.
8:48
Christmas Eve and he's sitting on a couch covered in lavender roses, yearning for the company of a small, yappy dog. He sighs. Pathetic. The phone rings suddenly, and he springs up to answer it, "Hello, Coffin residence." He greets unenthusiastically.
Benjamin, it's Mr. Grey. Listen, that old friend of yours, Johnson, is planning a protest at the lot tonight. I need you to get her to stop.
"I would try, but, as I've told you before, we aren't exactly close anymore."
Offer to let them slide on the rent, do whatever you need to do. This would be horrible publicity for Cyberarts, you understand that, don't you?
"I understand all too well, I just don't know if I can pull it off."
Well, you'll need to do something if this dream of yours is going to work out.
The dial tone sounds. Benny reluctantly shuffles back to his study to look over the deed to the building. A metaphorical light bulb lights up over his head, and he sets about filling out papers and making phone calls.
9:04
"Rent, my amigos, is due, or I will have to evict you. Be there in a few." Benny puts the phone back on the base and smiles despite himself.
Now clothed in a green sweater, he grabs his cell phone and dashes out the door, hops into his jet black Range Rover, and shoots out of the driveway.
9:07
A Range Rover pulls up Avenue B and former East Villager; Benjamin Coffin the third hops out.
Fuck, he thinks to himself. The entire tent city is rallying against him, and in the center of it all are none other than his former roommates and friends Mark Cohen and Roger Davis. He is startled out of his thoughts by his cell phone ringing. He flips it open and holds it to his ear, "Hello."
"Alison, baby, you sound sad. I can't believe those two after everything I'd done. Ever since our wedding, I'm dirt; they'll see I can help them all out in the long run." He talks over the riot for a few minutes, hanging up once the noise has died down, and before Alison can break the news about Evita.
He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes tightly. For a moment, he swears he can hear Collins' voice in the distance, but quickly relinquishes that thought. He opens his eyes again and sees Mark's scrawny form rushing out of the building, camera in hand. Something in his stomach flutters, and he decides to wait a few more minutes before going up, possibly until he sees Mark return.
9:15
Benny goes over the speech once more in his head, and paces nervously. He sees Mark out of the corner of his eye and realizes he's doing the same thing. He considers going over to talk to Mark, feeling much too much like a teenage girl wanting to approach her crush, but before he can get over there, Mark is dashing up the steps to the building. Ten more minutes, he decides, if I'm not up there in ten minutes, I'm going home.
9:25
He doesn't know when he decided to, but he's dashing up the six flights of stairs, singing Christmas carols to himself all the way to the loft he once called home. He slides the door open habitually, and all eyes turn to him. Benny resists the urge to run up and hug Collins. It's been, what, six months? Something like that. One thing that keeps him from doing it is the woman…man…woman's arm wrapped tightly around the professor's waist. Roger shoots him a death glare, and that 'asshole' button Benny always has when Roger is concerned seems to switch on. He waltzes into the loft, and sits immediately on the window seat, glancing out the window. Before he even acknowledges his former roommates and the newcomer, he opens the window and sticks his head out, "Hey, you bum, yeah, you, move over. Get your ass off that Range Rover."
"Close up; Benjamin Coffin the third…" Asshole. Traitor. Coward. Homesick.