Sugaring Ben

Chapter 2: Meeting Ben Cutter-2

Estuary could not have been anymore divine, which caused me to feel out of place. Think swans in a fountain, a Colonial-style mansion, fish-shaped hedges, a faux statue of David near its entrance, and other bare-chested sculptures such as Tethys, Adonis, Atlas, Sebastian from the Bible, and Neptune. Nothing at all about the restaurant screamed cheap, easy, and lowbrow.

A boyish host of twenty-two with curly brown hair and intoxicating hazel eyes greeted me inside the dazzling foyer. The young thing named Rudger, who was dressed like a penguin, recognized me from my work, which rarely happened in my life.

“Mr. Cutter awaits you. Follow me.”

The host escorted me through a ballroom that looked like a scene out of Beauty and the Beast and into an elegant dining room splayed with numerous round tables, glittery chandeliers, and leaded-glass Newport windows. Most guests were dressed in sweaters and wool pants. Women and extravagant gays wore French scarves. More penguins waited tables, grinning from ear to ear, being polite for grand tips.

The music was Bach, which fell from overhead speakers that were secure in the restaurant’s high ceiling. I couldn’t tell if the piece playing was Wie Schön Leuchtet der Morgenstern or Die Freude reget sich. Music really didn’t move me the way it had for other people in my life. Kat enjoyed country, adored Blake Shelton, William Michael Montgomery, and an upcoming star, and personal friend of Kay’s, named Sylvan. For me, music became just a clutter of noises compared to the sound of the weather, mostly wind and rain, which enlightened my senses.

My gaze caught Ben Cutter’s. The connection caused me to smile and warmed my chest. My God, he was a beautiful man. Handsome in every way imaginable. Somewhat pretty. I couldn’t believe how good-looking he was in person, raw. His shoulders were massive in size and his chest bulky. I fell into his grin, enjoying the one dimple in his left cheek. His eyes twinkled a green hue that just about melted me, and his ginger eyebrows were minimal in length and delicately trimmed.

Bottom line: I became a puddle in front of him.

Wasn’t I too old for that nonsense? Didn’t it come across as childish, immature? What I did know seemed rational: Ben Cutter caused an earthquake inside my chest and rocked my world just by his greeting stare.

We shook hands, and he came in for a hug, which just about blew my world apart. Of course, it was a man-hug: masculine, chests unable to bump together because of our arms between us, a pat to my back with his free hand, his head pulled and positioned ever so slightly away from my own.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, grainy and deep.

“Kat has told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“Of course.”

We sat down across from each other. My water glass was filled by another penguin. Seconds later, a different penguin arrived to take our drink orders. Ben ordered a light beer. I ordered a Seven and Seven, one my favorite cocktails.

“Remind me how you know Kat,” I said.

He chuckled. “She hired me for a catering job in Miami some nine years ago, before I became a full-time pastry chef. We became friends. Kat has seen me as a poor man and mouse without any food to eat and no place to live. She’s also seen my life change for the better and keeps me grounded.” He reached for his water, took a sip, and placed the drink back on the table. “Speaking of Kat, where is that woman?”

I told him about the call Kat had received from her boyfriend, Dr. Brent’s cat Binky, a broken leg, and about Rosdel Animal Clinic.

He chuckled again. “Let me tell you a little secret, Sandford.”

“Sand,” I corrected him. “Everyone just calls me Sand.”

“Sand it is then.” He took another sip of his water. “Years ago, I would have chosen Kat to be my wife if I weren’t into men. She’s a lovely woman, strong, beautiful, confident, and fun. I can’t say one thing bad about her.”

“You haven’t seen her on a Saturday morning without her coffee,” I joked.

He laughed. “I’m sure she’s just as stunning.”

“Don’t risk finding out.”

Our drinks arrived. Then we reviewed our menus. I decided on a salmon salad, and Ben chose a dish called Sabzi Korma: Indian cauliflower, eggplant, and potato curry.

After our orders were taken, he said, “I see you on WRDR almost every day.”

“I’m a horrible sight. You should stop watching.”

“Trust me when I say this, you’re the sexiest weatherman I have ever seen.”

I wanted to tell him that I had a second degree in climatology, but didn’t want to bore him. Instead, I said, “Zeb Outlander isn’t bad to look at on WFEO. His blond hair and blue eyes are on point.”

Zeb was my nemesis, or so everyone at WRDR told me and reminded me on a regular basis. The two of us were the same age and had worked at our companies for the same amount of time. If you didn’t watch Zeb forecast the weather, you watched me.

He shook his head and admitted, “I don’t like to talk bad about people, and usually don’t, but I met Zeb. He’s a pompous ass. WFEO can keep him. I’d rather go to bed with you every night.”

Those were nice words to hear, ambiguous in nature, and a little shocking.

He chuckled another time.

I chuckled.

Then he said, “You’re blushing.”

“I never blush”

“Oh, but you are.” He retrieved his beer from the table and took a chug. “And let me tell you, you’re adorable when you blush. Not many men can pull that look off, but you’ve mastered it with those red cheeks.”

Being sharp and to the point, I asked, “Don’t you have a boyfriend to flirt with, Mr. Cutter?”

“I’ve been single for the last year. A Spanish guy broke my heart.”

“What Spanish guy?”

He told me a story about traveling to Madrid approximately eighteen months ago for his show, Sugaring Ben. He dated Franco Paliz, became his boyfriend, and brought Paliz back to the United States with him.

Ben told me, “Paliz loved American d**k. He couldn’t get enough of it. Every time I turned my back away from him, he was riding another c**k. After dumping him, I learned that he never really cared about me, that he had purposely made me fall for him just to get into the United States so he could eventually become a citizen.” Ben rolled his eyes and took another chug of his beer, which was almost empty. “It was a sad time for me. I felt used and broken, especially since I loved him.”

“Have you dated any men since?”

“A few. None of them were special, though. They didn’t do anything at all to my heart.” Our meals were served, and he ordered something strong to drink, whiskey over ice. After the waitperson left our table, he said, “What about cute you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I’m not at all cute. Just average.”

“Stop,” he said, grinning. “You’re adorable and should be told that every day.”

I shook my head and teased. “You’re drunk. Lay off the booze.”

He laughed.

I laughed.

“Why are you single, Mr. Oliver? Tell me. I want to know. You come across to me as a sweetheart, a super nice guy, and easy to chat it up with.”

“Sweet as sugar,” I said.

He chuckled. “I hear that every day.”

“Which means I’m a cliché.”

“But a very cute cliché, none the less.”

While eating, making sure that I hadn’t talked with my mouth full, I decided it was safe to tell him about Bentley Daye. “Bentley was three years older than me and had a cushy accounting job with the city of Radar. He made over one hundred grand a year, which was above the average pay scale in northwestern Pennsylvania, lived comfortably next to the lake, and…

“Coke ruined us. More so him, of course. The stuff is cheap, and he was an addict. I blamed his closest buddies for that. Bentley played amateur football with his buds on the weekends. After their play, they all got high on heroin. Two of them died from overdoses, one attempted to commit suicide, and the others are currently trying to keep their f****d up lives together.”

“Which group does Bentley fall in?”

“Overdose,” I said, but not weakly, staying strong.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You play with the devil, he’ll take your soul. There are delicate rules when doing drugs, and Bentley didn’t follow those rules.”

“Did you love him?”

I shrugged. “That’s a tough question. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Maybe. Maybe not.”

He looked at his drink and eventually took a sip. “Would you still be with him if he hadn’t passed?”

“Probably,” I replied. “I believe in sticking beside a man when he’s down. Bentley was pretty down, and I was there for him. He went to rehab twice, and I was there at his side for both visits. His addiction was maddening, though, and he couldn’t pull himself away from it, nor could anyone else help him.”

“Do you think an overdose was his destiny?” Ben looked intrigued with our conversation, making heavy eye contact with me, drawn to me for some reason, and everything I had to say.

I nodded. “Yes and no.”

“Tell me about the yes first.”

“Well, he did a lot of heroin. You do too much of that s**t, and destiny is right there in your face.”

“And no?”

“To be honest, I don’t think I believe in destiny.”

He sat back in his chair. “I believe in destiny with all my heart and soul. No one can convince me otherwise.”

“How so, Ben?”

“Because I just do. Like us, for instance.”

He had all of my attention.

“What about us?”

“Our destiny is telling me that we should go on a date.”

I laughed. “Really?”

“Really.”

“What kind of date?”

“Something original and personal.”

“I’m listening,” I said, enjoying his company, unwavering conversation, and his melting looks.

“You give me a little tour of your newsroom at WRDR, and I will make you something sweet to eat in my kitchen.”

“How do you know I’m not a diabetic?”

He became serious and wide-eyed, leaning forward. “Are you?”

I laughed. “I’m not. Although it does run in my family’s genes.”

“God forbid that happens to you.”

“Yes. I agree,” I said.

“Do you agree to the date or that God prevents you from becoming a diabetic?”

“Both, Ben. Both. Show up tomorrow evening at the studio. After the six o’clock news.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“It should be fun.”

“Likewise.” He lifted his tumbler of whiskey and ice to me. “To destiny.”

“To destiny.” I clinked my Seven and Seven against the side of his whiskey beverage, smiling from ear to ear, happy to have met him, thanks to Kat and her emergency with Dr. Brent.