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“Sounds like you’re starving, too,” Ben observed with a smile.
“For you? Absolutely.”
Ben half-heartedly pushed on Simon’s shoulder. “Food first,” he insisted, then corrected himself. “Showers first, then food, then we’ll see.” He picked his robe off the floor and shrugged it on. “I’ll meet you down in the kitchen.”
Simon frowned. “You’re not going to shower with me?” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his tone but he knew he failed miserably.
Ben smiled and shook his head. “Showering together is awesome in theory but tends to suck in practice. Someone is always cold and soapy while the other is warm and wet under the spray. Separate showers are better.”
“Hmm,” Simon said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He threw the covers completely back, pulled up his sleep pants, then got out of bed. “Come here first.”
“Where?”
Simon didn’t answer, just tugged Ben behind him. He opened a door and automatically a small chandelier lit up.
“Is this your closet?” Ben asked dubiously. “I think this is larger than my old apartment.”
Simon was positive it was but didn’t want to say so. He pulled Ben past his clothing and shoes, all arranged neatly by both type and color. At the back was what looked like a floor-to-ceiling mirror but was also a door. He opened it and led Ben into his bathroom and over to his shower. “Are you sure you don’t want to share?” he asked.
“Holy—” Ben seemed wordless for a minute or two then said, “I guess I can shower here with you.”
Simon tried to see his bathroom through Ben’s eyes. There was a fireplace that shared a chimney with the one in his bedroom. The toilet was in a little alcove and opposite the fireplace a marble bathtub large enough for Simon to stretch out in completely. Along one wall was the shower, tiled in the same white marble as the floor. It was doubled in every way, with two wide benches and twin shower heads. Falling from the ceiling in the middle, though, was a waterfall shower. It was excessive in every single way, but Simon loved it.
“You realize how crazy this bathroom is, right?” Ben went on. “Normal people don’t live like this.”
“Is that… if it’s a problem, Ben, you know you don’t have to do anything you don’t to.”
Ben heaved a huge sigh. “You’re going to spoil me. I’m never going to want to leave.” He didn’t sound happy about the idea.
Simon, on the other hand, disagreed. Nothing was off the table if it convinced Ben to stay with him forever.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
25
Ben Gets French Toast and a Fitting
Tuesday, December 19
Simon’s ridiculous marble bathroom
The Gold Coast
Ben had thought the shower in the bathroom upstairs had been the height of luxury, but he’d been wrong. Again. Simon’s wealth continued to disconcert him. It was all so unreal, making every moment in Simon’s home feel dreamlike. Ben would wake up any moment, he just knew it.
They started out using separate showerheads, but before Ben knew it, they were both under the central waterfall. Ben let Simon pamper him, finding he quite liked having another person wash his body and hair.
After they got out of the shower, Simon brushed his teeth while Ben retrieved his robe and put it on. “I’m going upstairs to get dressed,” he said. “Then I’ll meet you in the kitchen.
Simon nodded at him and Ben left. Unreality rolled over him again as he climbed the stairs. He was a little out of breath when he reached the fourth floor, so he wasn’t as cured of his infection as he’d thought. He took his morning medication, noting that he had only a few days left of the antibiotic and steroid.
Simon wanted Ben to stay with him and somehow live out a crazy pampered existence, but nevertheless Ben could hear a phantom clock ticking out his time remaining with Simon.
For the moment he put it out of his head while he got ready for the day. The closet was full of the new clothes Simon had purchased for him. He had apologized for them all being off the rack, which made Ben want to curl up in a ball and laugh or cry hysterically. He couldn’t decide which. Off-the-rack Tom Ford and Gucci were still Tom Ford and Gucci. Ben didn’t recognize all the labels, but he had the feeling all of it was expensive.
Once dressed in a dark red sweater with tan slacks, feeling vaguely like the bougiest Target employee ever, Ben opened his bedroom door to the smell of melted butter and sugar.
Simon was in the small kitchen cooking something in a frying pan. He lifted it out with a spatula and flipped it. Ben saw it was French toast and his mouth watered. It was his favorite, and he hadn’t had it in years.
