“He doesn’t love anyone other than himself.” Ben handed her the white nightgown. “Put this on, please.”

She shook her head, a fresh wave of tears traced the same track of dried ones down her face.

“I’m not going to sit here and talk to you unless you get dressed.”

She jerked the nightgown from his hands, struggling to find the holes so she could put it on, while she gasped and hiccupped from crying so hard. She always cried like this over Dad. She hadn’t cried for Bonnie this way.

“Christ, let me help.” Ben grabbed the nightgown from her, straightened it out and then put it over her head. He had to guide her arms through the holes. She was a congressman’s wife. She knew the President of the United States. She traveled to other countries on the U.S.’s behalf. She worked to help feed the homeless and supported schools, yet she got so drunk she couldn’t even put her own clothes on. This hadn’t been the first time Ben had to help her.

“He bought her a car. He flies her to meet him when he travels. I tried to tell her she wasn’t the only one and she didn’t listen. Why wouldn’t she listen, Benny?” She grabbed the bottle and took a swallow, grimacing as it went down.

Ben’s body overheated. His hands fisted as he actually saw red. “Why don’t you listen? He’s been fucking other women your whole marriage!”

Ben struggled to rein in his anger. “I used to go with him, did you know that? He used me so he could meet with other women. The first time I thought he actually wanted to spend time with me. He took me on a trip with him, but then we got two rooms.”

She started to cry harder but Ben couldn’t make himself stop. He couldn’t silence the words like he had every other time. “I was fifteen years old and I caught them together. He sent me back to my room so they could finish. You know what he told me afterward? It’s what men do. That we deserve it because of all the hard work we put in. That women like her, she was a goddamned maid at the hotel, that they’re honored to get it from men like us. It makes them feel special.”

And Ben had believed him. His father was loved and respected and he worked hard. He deserved to blow off some steam. Ben wanted to be just like him, only it hadn’t been women he’d been interested in. He paid to fuck his first man after that weekend. It was the only thing his father had been right about. It had helped.

“Stop it! Don’t you dare say any more!” His mother held her hand over her ears like a child.

He felt guilt as he looked at her, and had the urge to go to her. To hold her and tell her they were both victims. He was the monster whom everyone loved.

But then his mother shouted and he froze. “It was you! You were never a good child. Even when you were young we knew something was wrong with you. She knew it, too. Bonnie knew something was wrong with you just like the rest of us. Even the way you were with her. It was unnatural, and you’re still that way. It kills your father. He’s done nothing but work hard for this family.”

Ben picked up the bottle of bourbon and threw it against the wall. His mother flinched but he couldn’t stop there. He got in her face, their noses almost touching. “Don’t you dare say there was anything wrong with the way I loved Bonnie. She was the only one who ever loved me.”

“Get out!” she screamed as she pushed away from him. “Get out of my house!”

Gladly. Ben made it all the way to her bedroom door before he stopped, turned, and looked at her. “I could ruin him, you know. One interview and I could ruin him.”

A wailing cry was his only response.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was late. He had no idea what time it was but Ben had nowhere to go, so he ended up at the gym again. The day had gone by...he wasn’t sure quite how. Or where he’d gone. He just knew it was the morning when he left his mother’s and now it was dark.

His workout was brutal. His body, deprived of food and sleep, rebelled against him. Eating made him sick and sleeping gave him nightmares, so he continued to avoid both. His body screamed at him when he left the gym for the second time in one day.

Ben turned to walk down the dark sidewalk. The city was still alive but then it always was.

His head swam. He felt like he was trying to make his way through fog, his body full of pent up energy that he couldn’t release.

“S’cuse me.”

Ben whipped around at the familiar Hispanic accent, at the same words he’d heard the night Javier had taken him.

He turned, left, right, forward, searching for who the voice came from but everyone just continued to walk. No one looked at him or spoke to him, just shoved their way around Ben the way New Yorkers did.