Alan awoke at seven – thirty to a foggy, rainy Saturday morning. Great, this weekend just keeps getting better and better. He rolled his eyes as he sat up in bed. Sarcasm first thing in the morning doesn't bode well for the rest of the day. He looked across at Denny who was still asleep and snoring lightly. With no sun shining in here, he'll probably sleep another hour and considering he's been out late the last two nights, possibly longer.

He got up, pulled off his sleeping cap and slipped on his robe. Jamming his feet into his slippers, he went into his sitting room and called Room Service to order a pot of coffee, a couple of buttered rolls and a newspaper. He walked over to stand at the French glass doors overlooking his terrace. Not counting the time I tried to jump off it during one of my night terrors, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been out there. I don't particularly care for this terrace; it's too small for Denny and me. Oh, Denny. Beyond the fact that this Ben is an insufferably close – minded, bigoted boor who is apparently doing his level best to return you to the equally close - minded right – wing Republican that you were when we first met, there is something else about him that is bothering me. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something!

A knock on his door pulled him from his reverie. He accepted the cart from the bellhop before tipping him generously. He poured himself a cup and sat down with his paper. His first few sips made him feel a little better. Going over his last conversation with Denny he thought, Denny was right; last night wasn't the time to discuss Ben. We have to discuss this today though, I don't want this hanging over us when we're out with our dates tonight.

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Denny woke up around ten AM. He accepted the cup of coffee Alan proffered gratefully. "Man, my head is fuzzy this morning!" He saw the remaining buttered roll. "Is that all there is to eat around here?" When Alan nodded yes, he said, "I have a suggestion. How about you shower and dress while I eat this and call Dave to come get us? Then I'll get ready."

"That's a deal, Denny, on one condition: We have to talk about Ben. Today."

"I want to talk about Ben; there's something I want to tell you, but not now. Let's talk after we've gotten back to the house and eaten a proper meal."

"Fine."

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Alan had brought his steak dinner from the night before and ate that while Denny ate a sandwich prepared by his cook. They deliberately kept the conversation light. Afterwards, the two men sat in the living room drinking coffee and relaxing. Denny began the talk by saying, "I get the feeling that you don't care for Ben. Why is that?"

Alan hung his head and stared at his lap for a few moments before speaking. He knew that if he approached this wrong, his friend would dig in his heels and fight him tooth and nail. "Denny," he began, "do you remember the first time we slept together?"

The older man stared at him, obviously surprised by the question. "Yes, we were at the lodge at Nimmo Bay. Why?"

"You are a very different man today than the one I woke up with that morning. That Denny never would have tied himself to me and shared my bed to make sure I didn't hurt myself during a night terror or voted for Barack Obama. He was homophobic, xenophobic and an egomaniac to boot, but I knew that inside was a great man with a good heart. I like to think that our friendship has brought that great man to the surface."

"I don't like Ben because I see him burying the Denny Crane I've come to know and love and resurrecting that man who was terrified that he was gay now because I had shared his bed. Do you really not see this, Denny?"

"You know, Ben and I talked about you last night after you left."

"Did you now? And what was it about me you thought needed discussing with Ben?"

"Well, our meals came about fifteen minutes after you left. I tasted my steak and it was superb so I mentioned to him that I was sorry you hadn't felt well and he said he thought it was his fault that you left; that he must have made you feel out of place."

Alan sputtered, "Out of place? How so?"

Denny waved his hands around. "Well," he said, "I'm a mainstream Republican, he's a Tea Party Republican and you're a left – leaning Democrat. He pointed out that he and I have much more in common politically than you and I do so you were probably feeling…" He trailed off and sipped his now lukewarm coffee.

"What? Like I fell down the rabbit hole? What?"

"Jealous that you weren't the focus of all my attention."

Alan was livid. "Why would I be jealous of that pompous ass? No, I wasn't jealous; however, I will tell that I was hurt that you didn't take my side when I said I was leaving."

"What side, Alan? You said you were sick! I didn't think you looked so bad that you couldn't travel alone. You didn't even want Dave to come; you said you would call a cab!"

Alan was shouting now. "Because you weren't leaving with me! I'm your best friend! How could you choose to stay when I said I was ill?"

Denny pointed accusingly and shouted back, "Omigod, you are jealous! Well, let me tell you something, my friend: You better get over yourself because I'm sponsoring Ben for a position at the firm!"

Alan felt like he had been slapped. "You're offering him a job at Crane Poole and Schmidt? In Trial Law?"

Denny took a deep calming breath. "No, in Wills, Estates and Trusts. That was his specialty in New Jersey. He presented a really strong case for wanting a position with us."

"You mean, he kissed your behind as hard as he could," Alan snarked. He regretted it before the words cleared his mouth. "I'm sorry, Denny, that just…came out," he finished lamely.

Denny opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. He stood up and walked to the window and looked outside for what, to Alan, seemed hours even though it couldn't have been longer than five minutes. When he turned around, he looked tired. "Alan, I don't like arguing with you, but here we are and I don't like this stance you've taken. In fact, I don't think I want to go out with you tonight. I'm calling Margie and telling her that we're still on, but the double date with you and Karen is off."

"Karen won't go if it's not a double date! She said as much when we met."

Denny ignored him and dialed Margie's number. "Hi, Margie, it's Denny Crane. Yes, we're still on for tonight, but Alan won't be able to make it. Oh, was she? Well, my understanding is that Alan will be available about two hours after our dinner reservation. No? She's a scaredy cat, huh? Listen, I think I have an answer. Another friend of my mine could escort Karen. Of course he's nice! Terrific, we'll pick you and Karen up at your place. Bye!" He ended the call and looked at the younger man staring at him in disbelief. "Seems like your evening is free, Alan."

Alan stood there silently as feelings of hurt, betrayal, jealousy and anger warred within him for dominance. "I see," he said finally, "Well, I guess I should just get my things and head back to my hotel. And this time, I would like Dave to drive me."

The older man saw the expression on Alan's face and knew he had crossed a line. "You don't have to leave, Alan. Stay."

"And watch you leave knowing that you've arranged for my date to go out with Ben, you and Margie? No, thank you." He walked to the doorway and just before he stepped into the hall, he turned back to face Denny and said, "There was a time when I would have just trashed our friendship here and now because I would have felt that my natural unloveableness had resurfaced. I know better than that now. Because of you, Denny, I know that I am not unloveable and because I know that, I am going to be a better friend to you than you are being to me now. I will speak with you later." And, with that, he left.

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After Dave dropped him back at his hotel, he went into his room, changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt and ordered a bottle of Scotch for now and placed a dinner order for later. He sat at the table next to the window that overlooked the City with his cell phone and telephone book. The majority of his contacts' numbers were stored in his phone, but some he preferred to keep the old fashioned way. The first number he called was a landline to a house in a suburb on the opposite side of Boston from Denny. It was answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Carl, it's Alan Shore, how are you?"

"Fine. What do you want?"

"What I always want: Your fiancée. May I speak with her, please?"

Alan heard a long, put – upon sigh come through the phone. "Don't make me regret this, Shore. Hold on."

After a few moments, a feminine voice came on the line. "Alan, to what do I owe this weekend pleasure?"

"I need a favor, Shirley. Denny will come to you on Monday with an attorney named Ben Tomlinson and tell you he wants CS&P to hire him for the Wills, Estates and Trusts Division. I want you to stall him. Shirley. I don't care what you have to tell him, but do not offer Tomlinson a position before I get back to you."

"Do I dare ask why not?"

"Let's just say I am running a background check on Mr. Tomlinson."

"Let's say that, then. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Alan. Goodbye."

"Bye, Shirley." Alan ended the call and then dialed a number he had retrieved from his phonebook. When the line was picked up he said, "It's Alan Shore. I need you to look into an attorney from New Jersey named Benjamin Tomlinson. I want to know what time he went to the bathroom six months ago and everything he's done since then. Yes, the usual fee, plus a one thousand dollar bonus if you can get me verifiable information no later than Tuesday evening. Yes, I'll be reachable at this number. Yes. Goodbye."

As he poured himself a drink he thought, Something is rotten in Denmark, Ben, and I think it's you. And I'll find out, soon.