Page 61 of Something Like Summer
Jace forced back a smile.“There’s only one place that I know of. Are you sure?”
“Don’t read into it toomuch,” Ben said demurely. “I just need some quiet.”
Jace walked him to his carand Ben waited inside while Jace fetched his own. From there theydrove to an increasingly unpleasant area of town. The neighborhoodbeyond the freshly locked car doors was run-down and poorly lit.Several rough-looking people drank and loitered on the sidewalks,some of them setting off fireworks. Ben hoped that this was somebizarre shortcut, but they parked only a few blockslater.
Jace gave him a funny lookwhen Ben stepped out of the car. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, slippingon a poker face.
“Hm. Where did you say youwere from again?”
“The Woodlands.Why?”
Jace nodded as if thatexplained everything. “It might not be the prettiest neighborhood,but I’ve never had any trouble here.”
“It’s fine,” Ben insisted.“You should see my place in Chicago.”
A passage through one ofthe buildings led to a courtyard. Jace unlocked a door to astairwell and an old-fashioned caged elevator, the sort that Benhad only seen in movies. It rattled loudly as they rode it to thetop floor.
“Home sweet home!” Jaceunlocked the only door in the tiny corridor. He flipped on a lightswitch and stepped aside so Ben could enter first.
Lights flickered into life,illuminating a sprawling studio apartment. The floors werehardwood, the walls raw brick. The décor was a mismatch of oldfurniture and antiques. Vintage advertisements hung on the wall,stewardesses from days gone by beaming above slogans or art decoairplanes. Ben noticed a pinball machine in one corner and a ladderleading up to a loft bed before a grey streak of fur sped acrossthe room.
“Samson!” Jace declaredhappily as he reached down to pick the cat up. “We have avisitor.”
The cat rubbed its faceagainst Jace’s chin before turning its head to regard Ben withlarge green eyes.
So this was Sam! That somany people knew of Jace’s cat meant he was one of those crazy catpeople who talked about their pets like they were children, butthat was preferable to Sam being a hot ex-boyfriend. Ben reachedout to pet Samson, but the cat’s head dodged and came back aroundto smell his hand.
“Security scan initiated,”Jace said in a robotic voice. “Mm-hm. I think you’ve passed. Let’ssee about getting you something to eat.”
Samson hopped to the floorand followed Jace to the large kitchen. Ben watched the cat beingserved a plate of canned food while taking in as many of the otherdetails as possible. There was an inordinate number of paperfortunes lying around, implying that Jace liked Chinese takeout. Healso enjoyed cooking, judging from the well-equippedkitchen.
Ben strolled back into theliving area and headed for the bookshelf. The selection was almostexclusively biographies without any common theme. Jumbled togetherwere politicians, comedians, historical figures, famous serialkillers, and celebrities. The Dalai Lama was neighbors with Hitler,Ben noted with some amusement.
“I love reading aboutpeople’s lives,” Jace said from behind. “Do you read?”
“Yeah, but mostlyfiction.”
“That’s what some of theseare,” Jace said. “If you were writing an autobiography, would youreally be able to resist the temptation to doctor the past? Whowants to write about crapping their pants in grade school when it’smore fun to exaggerate success and talk trash on oldflames.”
“Good point,” Benchuckled.
“Biographies are evenworse since they are mostly speculation written by adoring fans,spoon fed false information from the celebrity’s agent. Regardless,I can’t help but read them. It’s a guilty pleasure ofmine.”
Ben pulled his attentionaway from the books and noticed that Jace was holding two glassesof champagne. “Oh, wow! I didn’t hear the bottle pop!”
“It didn’t,” Jaceconfessed. “More freebies from the airlines. They only have thesingle-serving bottles with the screw top.”
“It’s cool that you getstuff that like for free.”
“Not exactly free.” Jacegrimaced. “At least, it’s not supposed to be, but who doesn’tpilfer from their job?”
“Just promise me you havesomething better in bed than those dinky airline pillows,” Ben saidas he accepted his drink.
“Wait and see.” Jaceraised his glass. “Here’s to new millenniums and new friendships.Assuming the Y2K bug doesn’t destroy us all, that is.”
Ben clinked glasses andtook a sip. For his first champagne, it tasted great. “How muchlonger until the New Year?”
