Chiaroscuro (32 page)

It was one of those kisses that seemed it would go on for years--he wanted to taste every inch of Jamie's mouth, inhale his every breath. Jamie wrapped his arms around Ben's neck, kissing him ferociously, and his body arched up into Ben's. Jamie was still wearing his work clothes, soft paint-stained jeans and worn cotton t-shirt, and Ben slipped a hand under the shirt to touch his warm skin.

"Wait, wait," Jamie whispered, pulling out his hand. "Stop. I want to show you something."

"That shouldn't involve stopping," Ben pointed out.

Jamie bopped his nose and got off the bed. "Come with me."

"Also should not involve stopping."

"Just come along, goof." He took Ben by the hand and led him to the sun room. "I want you to see this." He took the drop cloth off a half-completed sculpture--a life-size model of Ben's body, from his shoulders to the tops of his thighs. "Take off your shirt, please. I just want to compare the model to the real thing."

Ben raised an eyebrow and whipped off his shirt. He stood with his hands on his hips, his chin raised. "Like this?"

"Very much so," Jamie murmured, running a hand over Ben's chest. "Lord. You are magnificent."

Ben bent to kiss him. "Told ya. Gym."

"And good genes."

"And good genes," Ben confirmed and held Jamie's face in his hands to kiss him deeper. He slid his hands down Jamie's back to the waistband of his shirt and tugged it up over Jamie's head. "I ought to sculpt you sometime."

"In cake?"

"Yes." Ben nodded solemnly. "Or cover you in cake. It's equally tempting."

"Anytime you want to eat cake off me, just say the word."

"Cake," Ben said, drawing out the word. "Yummy, moist, delicious cake." He bent to kiss Jamie's shoulders and neck. Jamie raised himself up on his toes and wrapped his arms around Ben's neck, kissing the side of his face.

"Must be why I like having you around," he murmured. "You keep me well-fed."

Ben laughed. "Should I stop distracting you from the sculpture?"

"You're not distracting me." He ran his hands up and down Ben's chest. "This is exactly what I want. A reminder of how you look--how you feel. Particularly how you feel." He kissed Ben, tongue sliding into his mouth for a quick taste. "It's been forever since I've touched you."

"Far too long," Ben agreed, and almost felt ashamed. Ian was sweet and shy--and not Jamie. Jamie was loud and excitable and silly, his place was as cluttered as his life, he was all noise and color--he was complicated.

Ian would not be complicated.

This, Ben thought, was the point.

But that did not stop Ben from pressing Jamie down to the floor, fumbling him out of his clothes, fucking him until he shouted and went limp in Ben's arms.

Slumped over him, Ben caught his breath and laughed against Jamie's back. Jamie hummed in a questioning tone and reached back for his hand. "Just…" Ben said in a gravelly voice, and cleared his throat. "We go too long without touching and this is what happens."

"Tragic," Jamie murmured and wiggled from beneath him, to push Ben onto his back and lie on top of him. Ben raised his eyebrows in a challenge and Jamie kissed the tip of his nose. "Things will be back to normal soon."

"As normal as they get, anyway." He pushed a hand through Jamie's hair. "Hey. Um. If I'd just get in the way tomorrow with all those rich people, go ahead and tell me to get lost."

"Absolutely not," Jamie said with a firm nod. "I need you there. I need my friends around. I haven't had a show since I was a student and this is so--it's so different. This is real people with real money and real critics. Not just my professors and a reviewer for the school paper."

"Okay," Ben said. "You've got me, then."

Jamie beamed and kissed him, and lay down on his chest with a satisfied sigh. Ben held him, roughly combing his fingers through his hair, and thought, He'll be so busy. He won't even notice I'm there.

***

"I think I'm the only person wearing a color," Ian whispered to Ben as they joined the crowd at the gallery. The gallery was a sea of black fabric and glittering jewels, accented by twinkles of champagne in crystal goblets. It seemed to Ben that everyone who'd received an invitation had come, though he doubted all of them had come to see Jamie's art.

But, he thought proudly, they would stay because of it.

"You look fine," he said with a grin to Ian. Ian looked every inch a student in his tweedy suit and red sneakers, but Ben liked it. He'd gone with the simplest thing he could think of: black pants and a white button-down shirt with a leather coat. It was Mission District elegant, at least, if not South of Market elegant. "Come on, I'll introduce you to people."

He couldn't see Jamie anywhere, but there was plenty of time to find him. All of Jamie's worries about being a flop were unfounded: everyone Ben saw seemed to be having a good time, and the art was getting as much attention as the celebrities.

It was easy to find Leo and Adam. Ben hugged them. "This is Ian. He's been playing guitar at the bakery."

Adam shook Ian's hand. "Hello. Has Benjie filled you in about Jamie?"

"He's told me a little."

Leo raised an eyebrow at Ben and shook Ian's hand too. "It's a big night for our little Jamie. We're very proud of him."

"The pictures are beautiful," Ian said. "I can hardly wait to get a good look at them all."

"You'll really like all the portraits of Ben," Adam said. "They're very popular."

Ian's eyes grew wide. "All the--of Ben?" He looked at Ben, who smiled cheerfully, hoping he looked innocent.

"He draws all of us--his friends and his neighbors."

"Oh," Ian said, and took a champagne glass from the nearest passing waiter.

Leo took one too. "Let me show you around. I can tell you stories about almost everybody."

"Oh--okay," Ian said, looking uncertainly at Ben, but he let Leo guide him away, one of Leo's arms around his shoulders and Adam at his other side.

Well. Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the crowd, trying not to feel like he'd been sent to the corner for a time-out. And where was Jamie? All that insistence that he needed Ben there and he was nowhere to be found.

He started moving through the crowd, smiling hello when people caught his eye but not stopping. People were pointing him out to each other, whispering, and it took Ben a moment to realize why: they recognized him from the paintings. He felt himself blush--all these people, all these strangers, looking at his body, knowing what he looked like naked--

Don't be a baby, he thought and smiled at the woman staring at him in frank invitation. No way, no how, he thought, and went on searching.

He saw Simon first--he was hard to miss, tall and silver-haired--and then his companion, the flutist from the city symphony, who spoke with softly-accented syllables and extravagant hand gestures. They were surrounded by onlookers, some hanging on every word of the flutist but some--and Ben felt a little jealous at this--some were watching Jamie.

Jamie hardly seemed to notice them as he listened to the flutist and drank his champagne. He looked strong and beautiful: clean-shaven for the occasion, in an elegant brown pullover and lighter brown trousers, his hair stylishly tousled, his posture relaxed.

Ben was about to turn back into the crowd and wait for Jamie to be free, when Jamie exclaimed, "Benjie!" and threw his arms around Ben's neck. Ben held his waist and bent his head to lay it lightly on Jamie's shoulder. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

"I wouldn't miss this for anything," he said. "Even though you're hard to find in all these people."

"Next time I'll be taller," Jamie said, and then laughed and kissed him. "Come meet someone." He pulled Ben by the hand back to Simon and the flutist. "You remember Simon--and this is Vijay Patel. He plays flute for the symphony."

Vijay laughed as he shook Ben's hand. "Yes, that is me," he said in voice as melodious as his music. "And you are the model for these many lovely paintings."

"Yeah," Ben muttered, and Jamie beamed at him proudly.

"Ben's my muse. That's what everybody's been saying all night. 'When do we get to meet your muse?' And here you are, finally."

"Yeah, I, um--"

"I know: you had to make yourself perfect."

Ben held Jamie's cheek and leaned their foreheads together. "Actually, I, um--"

"Jamie, here you are!" said Moira and hugged them both. "I've only seen a few pictures but they're so beautiful, I can hardly believe it!"

"Hello, Mrs. Gallagher," Jamie said and hugged her back. "I'm glad you approve."

"Of course I approve. Benjie used to hate having his picture taken, but look at all these portraits. I'd sell my soul to have one."

Jamie laughed. "That won't be necessary--I actually have one set aside for you. It's not one of the grander ones but at least he's not naked, so you can let the kids see it."

"Oh, Jamie!" Moira said, pleased, and kissed his cheek, hugging him. "I'd love anything you make."

"Good," Jamie said. "And let me introduce you to someone--you like the symphony, yeah?"

"Very much," Moira said, and was reduced to a star-struck teenager when Jamie introduced her to Vijay.

Ben smiled and decided to slip away a bit to let Jamie be the star--and to find Ian. There was a lot of explaining to do, and the sooner he did it, the better.

He finally located Ian in front of the angel painting, studying it with his hands clasped behind his back. Ben put an arm around his shoulders. "Sorry about that. Leo likes to run things."

"I noticed. I like him, though."

"Yeah. He's a likable guy." He took a breath. "Look, Ian--"

"I know," Ian said in his soft voice. "You brought me to your boyfriend's art show."

"He's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend."

Ian sighed. "Did you ask me out to make him jealous?"

Ben didn't know what to say for a moment. "I asked you out because I like you. It has nothing to do with Jamie."

"Then why did we come here?"

"Because I promised Jamie I'd be here--but we can leave right now if you want to go."

Ian looked at him, then lowered his head. "No. I haven't seen all the paintings yet and I'd like to. He--he paints very well."

"Okay," Ben said. He kissed Ian's temple and rubbed the base of his neck. "But when you're ready to go just say the word and we'll go."

"Later," Ian said with a nod. He started to smile. "So you have a tattoo on your back, huh?"

"Yep. If you're very good you'll get to see it."

"I think I'd like to see it now." Ian slid his hand around Ben's back, under his coat, and tugged on Ben's shirt to pull it out of his waistband. "Just a little peek." Ben laughed and tried to twist away, but Ian's hand stayed under his shirt and Ian started laughing too. "Oh, no, you don't!"

"Oh, yes, I do!" Ben said and bumped into someone as he tried to escape. He straightened up, still chuckling, and Ian held onto him, laughing too. "I'm sorry, we're kind of--"

"You brought a friend," Jamie said, looking at Ian.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Ben said, "This is Ian. He's been playing guitar at the bakery a couple nights a week--and this is Jamie. The artist."

"Oh." Ian stopped laughing, his expression awed. "It's so nice to meet you. You do lovely work."

"Thank you," Jamie said and shook his hand. He still didn't look at Ben. "Do you study art at all?"

"Oh, no, I'm in biochemistry. All I know about art is what I learned in Art Appreciation as a freshman. But," he swallowed, "I know what's beautiful. And these are beautiful. They're so--love-full." He wrinkled his nose. "That's not the right word."

"No," Ben said softly, "it is."

Jamie glanced at him, and then said to Ian, "Thank you. I think that's the truest thing anyone's said all night." Ian blushed pink and looked at Ben, clearly uncomfortable. "Well." Jamie straightened his shoulders. "I've got to keep circulating. It was very nice to meet you." He moved back into the crowd.

There was something pitying in Ian's eyes as he looked at Ben. Ben sighed. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," Ian said and turned back to look at the angel picture.

Jamie was in the lobby of the gallery, sitting on a padded bench opposite the mural. His head was in his hands, his posture so defeated that Ben's throat constricted and it took all his willpower not to gather Jamie up in his arms and carry him away.

Instead he sat beside him. "Hey, man of the hour."

Jamie lifted his head and dropped his hands, looking away from Ben. "You brought a date to my opening."

There was no point in trying to explain it or justify it. "Yes."

Jamie laughed shortly and wiped his eyes. "Fucking hell, Ben."

"Jamie, I didn't think it would matter. I thought you'd be busy all night and I didn't want to be by myself, waiting for you--and it's not like we're dating or anything."

"I know." Sharply. "We're not dating. We're not boyfriends. We're not anything. We're just friends who fuck and God knows I should be happy enough with that."

"Ian's a really nice guy," he offered lamely.

"Is he a good fuck?"

"I don't know yet."

Jamie went completely still a moment. "I see." He got to his feet. "I think we're done here."

"Jamie, c'mon. Don't be mad."

"No!" He'd never seen Jamie so angry yet so contained. Jamie said slowly, emphasizing each word, "I think we're done." He went back into the gallery, leaving Ben behind, too stunned to move.

He hardly noticed more latecomers entering the gallery, until a group of them paused in front of him and one sat down at his side. "Benjie?" Dune said and put an arm around his shoulders. "Benjie, what's wrong?"

"I think Jamie just broke up with me," Ben whispered.

Dune cooed and stroked his hair. "Guys, do you mind giving us a minute?"

"Sure," Daniel said. He touched Ben's hair in sympathy. "Come on, kids." The group--Ben hardly noticed who they were--went into the gallery, and Dune stayed behind, holding Ben.

***

There was a sculpture garden in the gallery's small back property--a perfect place to walk and talk away from the crowd. They chose a stone bench near a large abstract bronze and Ben, haltingly, explained about Ian and Jamie and the whole thing.