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“Simon, don’t! You’ll fall and kill yourself!”
“Will not,” he muttered. Just one inch more and— “Gotcha!” He snagged up his phone, nearly lost his balance, then regained it, and turned around.
Ben sat there looking at him with huge eyes. “That was dumb! Don’t ever do that again!”
Simon sat down carefully, keeping his phone out of the water. Supposedly it was waterproof, but Simon hated to tempt fate. Except, apparently, when reaching for said phone in the first place. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling legitimately contrite that he’d frightened Ben.
“I need a whistle,” Ben said.
“A what?”
“A whistle, so when you do dumb stuff like that, I can blow it and you know you’ve got to stop whatever dumb thing it is.”
“Like a lifeguard?” Simon asked, amused.
“Exactly.”
“Maybe Santa will bring you one.”
Ben stuck his tongue out at Simon, making him laugh. “Come here, Benny, and let an old man show you something.”
“You’re notthatold,” Ben grumbled, but he moved willingly enough so he sat between Simon’s legs with his back to Simon’s far less sticky and crusty chest.
“You’re too kind.” Simon first looked up the Tom and Jerry episodeMice Follies,where Jerry floods the kitchen then turns it into a skating rink, thenWater, Water Every Hare,in which Bugs Bunny’s home is flooded and he’s carried away to the castle of a mad scientist and showed both of them to Ben on his phone.
Ben sat still, enraptured by both, but seemed to like the second one better. Certainly, he laughed more. Simon made a mental note to have a Looney Tunes marathon soon in the media room. And when he kissed Ben there again, neither one of them would freak out. The time for freaking out was long past.
The credits ofWater, Water Every Harewere interrupted by a text. There were only four words from Hudson, but it was enough to make Simon’s stomach fall in dismay.
Hudson:Your mother is here
Simon was startled enough that he almost dropped the phone in the bathtub after all. His mother wasn’t expected back until Christmas eve. Why had she come back early? Simon tried to remind himself that he was forty-eight years old and not subject at all to his septuagenarian mother, but his stomach still sank. “Dammit.”
“What?”
Simon showed Ben Hudson’s text.
“Your mother’s here?” Ben asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. I wasn’t expecting her back yet, but I guess she got home from her trip early.” Simon stood up, lightly tossed his phone onto the counter, then stepped out of the tub and onto the thick rug placed on the marble floor. He offered his hand to Ben to help him out of the bathtub. “We need to take a quick shower and get dressed as soon as possible.”
Ben didn’t respond. He looked past Simon, seemingly frozen in place.
Simon looked over his shoulder and wished he hadn’t. His mother was there, her red Chanel suit immaculate and arms folded over her chest. “Simon Christopher Prince. What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
29
Ben Is Fine
Wednesday, December 20
Simon’s invaded bathroom
The Gold Coast
Ben sat in a tub of cooling water, his hands covering his junk, and wished he could be anywhere else in the world at that moment.
He’d been about to get out of the tub when a woman burst into the room and middle-named Simon. Then the shouting began. Simon had grabbed a robe that hung on the wall and put it on, belting it tightly, then furiously asked the woman, who had to be his mother, what the hell she thought she was doing.
