Chapter 4: A Party

Ben stared disbelieving at the scene before him.

He could've gone a lifetime without picturing this or even imaging it happening but here he was, at his mother's gala with John by his side. Still slightly stunned, Ben gave the man besides him another quick, surveying glance.

He cool and calm demeanor was a façade of the real man beneath, the tough, hard and demanding man who Ben had managed to fall in love with. His mere presence made Ben feel safer, protected and completely at ease. John had that natural effect on him now.

His dirty blond hair was cut neatly short and his chiseled chin was freshly shaved. Requirements of the job. Yet he made it look good. Ben had admired the finely cut black suit he wore when he walked out of the bedroom earlier that evening. Meanwhile, he had been pacing worriedly, over thinking himself and his request of John.

But when John strode out into the living room, the cut of the suit perfectly shaped to fit John's broad shoulders and tall build, his anxiety vanished. He looked incredible. Ben had never seen John in anything but his police uniform or casual denim-blue jeans.

"Where'd you get the suit?" Ben had asked, marveled by the transformation.

"I bought it before I went to sign the divorce papers with my wife and her attorney."

Ben laughed but John just shrugged, "you wouldn't be laughing now if you saw her face when I walked through those doors." Ben felt a hint of a smile tug at his lips, realizing he had a similar reaction when John walked out, dressed in all black like Johnny Cash. Ben nearly told him they were skipping the party so that he could undress him with his teeth and spend the rest of the night devouring the sinfully sexy man.

Now John pulled at his tie again. Ben quickly stepped into intercept before he tugged it into a helpless knot.

"I don't like this tie," John said irritably as he let Ben re-straightened the it.

Ben didn't know how many times in his life he was required to wear a tie, only that it had become second nature to him by the time he was twelve to tie one properly. How the knot should look. How it should hang, well-balanced to the suit and more importantly, his father would say, to the man.

"Its fine," Ben replied firmly, knowing he would have to be stern with John tonight. If they did this right, all he'd have to do was give his mom a peck on the cheek, wish her a happy birthday, toss in his card with the rest of the extravagant presents and get the hell out of here before anyone noticed him.

"What's wrong?" John asked. Ben lifted his gaze to meet those steely blue eyes which were taking inventory of his emotions, reading the apprehension on his face. He pursed his lips. John had the uncanny ability to read him like an open book. And he excelled at the art of knowing what Ben was thinking before he did.

"Nothing, it's fine." He said dismissively, his fingers expertly folding the silk tie.

"I know- you've said that twice now."

An impatient anger shot through him then as he abruptly and purposely pulled too tightly on the knot, choking him. John let out a surprised laugh, slipping a finger between his vulnerable throat and the noose around his neck, shooting him a knowing look.

"Sorry," Ben clipped out. "It looks better though."

"Yeah, whatever," he said, his tone hinting at mild amusement. "Where's the bar?"

Ben nodded towards the back of the house, "follow the art on the far wall. The bar is below the Van."

"Van?"

"Van Gogh."

John seemed unimpressed by this. However he was impressed by the massive crowd of people that filled the main room of the house. Ben gave an inward sigh as he too noticed the slicked suits, Armani shoes, Prada handbags, and Gucci dresses. Everyone here was labeled and polished like their accessories or the designer name on their underwear.

"You want anything?" John asked before he ventured into the throng of high-fashion and the obscenely wealthy. Or as he would say fondly, 'the rich pricks of the Westside'.

"Yeah," Ben hesitated, staring absently at the people that he used to know and worst of all, be. He instinctively tore his gaze away, back to John. Their eyes met. Ben felt his heart suddenly softened and the tension in his muscles unfurl.

John had decided to come with him tonight. He didn't have to. He could've stayed at home and watched the game. A cold beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. But no, Ben had asked him to attend his mother's 60th birthday party up in Beverley Hill's. He asked him to get all dressed up after a long day spent on the grimy, harsh and at times, brutal streets of LA and to wear a tie for him. And he did. No questions asked.

"I'll have whatever you have," Ben finally answered.

The weight of John's eyes pressed into him as though asking him if he would be all right, but not saying it. They could say a lot that way. Ben just nodded, a thin smile on his lips. John took this as a good sign and disappeared into the crowd. He watched him, keen on following him just to stay close.

He didn't know what was more daunting, seeing old friends or his mother. But he was here because his sister had pleaded with him. He shot her down all week but finally he said yes. Now he regretted the impulse. Suddenly he heard John's voice in his head, 'it's time to cowboy the fuck up'. So he did.

Ben weaved his way through the party, searching for the familiar face of his mom or even his sister. He brushed past old friends and even family members but didn't bother to stop. He used to know them, laugh with them, drink with them and care for them. Now they had become strangers. Years spent away could do that, especially in a place like this where a person's friend was dictated on time and more importantly, money.

He finally spotted his sister, her long blond hair wrapped around her face and her laughter filling the room. He instantly felt the pull of a smile on his lips. Her laughter always had that effect on him, even when they were kids. So loud and infectious. She saw him then from across the room. She beamed happily. It had been a while since they saw each other. And in that moment, a sharp pang of sadness overwhelmed him, realizing how much he had given up when he left. He tried to get through the crowds but he was bogged down and couldn't reach her. She rolled her eyes helplessly, noticing the problem.

She then mouthed the words and gestured to the far end of the room, 'Mom- side room. Go get her, please.' He just nodded and gave a quick, reassuring wave. She thanked him with playful air-kiss as he elbowed his way through more people. By the time he reached the far end, he was nearly breathless. He opened the door to the library where he knew his mother would be. And she was.

Firelight spilled into the corners of the darken study room where she had momentarily fled. He opened the door to see her talking in hushed tones to a man on the couch. He didn't recognize him. But he knew instantly what was happening. He had walked into situations similar to this his entire childhood. His mom accompanied with strangers in their house, talking in whispers and the exchanges of money from hand to hand.

And here she was again, still at it. A spark of anger burned inside him, simmering just below the surface. He stood in the doorway, letting the noise of the party fill the quiet room. When he finally spoke, his tone was harsh and abrupt, "Mom."

The man jumped up from the couch, his drink sloshing over his hand while he buried his other hand deep within his pocket. Ben just glared at him as he quickly exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Ben!" His mom exclaimed overly cheerful. Unperturbed that he obviously interrupted her.

She stood, the firelight dancing over the contours of her face, darkening the bags under her eyes. She suddenly looked very old. Her once beautiful face was now cracked with wrinkles and her brown hair, graying at the roots and beginning to thin out. He remembered a time when her features were soft, young and vibrant. How she would wear red lipstick around the house, curl her hair, manicure the brightly colored tips of her nails and saunter near the edge of the pool with a martini glass in hand.

But time had not been kind to his mother. Her shoulders were hunched and her body seemed fragile, frail. She wasn't the same woman she used to be he thought, standing there, staring into the empty hollows of her eyes.

"How have you been, darling?" she asked, straightening under his critical gaze as she walked towards him.

He said nothing, just stared at her, accusingly. She sighed dramatically, "It's just a little blow to get the party started, Ben." She suddenly laughed in his face, "what are you going to do? Arrest me Officer Sherman?"

His anger suddenly drained away from him. His mom wouldn't change her partying habits now. She didn't care what other people thought, what it was doing to her health, how it was eating away at her money. She didn't care that Ben disapproved either.

"I didn't come here to fight." He said softly, letting go of his anger as he numbly pulled out the birthday card from his jacket pocket and placed it next to where her martini glass had been. "I just came to wish you a happy birthday, mom."

She abruptly brushed past him, not even acknowledging the card. "Thanks, now- if you don't mind, I have guests to attend to."

She was dismissing him. From the party, this house and her life. The solid sound of the door closing shuddered the room.

Ben just stood there, staring down at the card. It was just some generic store bought birthday card he had picked up on the way here. Nothing special.

Noise of the party filled the room then as the door reopened.

"Ben …" John's resonating voice said from behind him. Footsteps and then, for the second time that night, John's hand moved to his back. The touch meant to be supportive, caring. Ben felt his throat tighten. "That was her, wasn't it?" John's quietly spoken words brought him out of his daze and he raised his eyes to him.

The dim light of the room touched the planes on his handsome face and cast the hollows into deep shadows. A natural strength seemed to radiate from him, flowing onto Ben, filling him with that same force. His heart twisted at the realization that this place had long ago stopped being his home. And it took someone strong and hard like John to make him finally see it.

Ben felt his heart swell, wanting to tell him then and there, that he loved him. That he secretly believed he always had. But he knew John wasn't ready. It would be too much too soon. It didn't matter that the way they made love the past few nights had changed from their heated animalistic passion, to tender and almost loving. Or that Ben stayed with John nearly every night and they were practically living together. No… he had to wait.

"Let's go," Ben suddenly said as he picked up the birthday card and slid it back into his pocket.

TBC

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