Unleashed

Dean kissed his wife's cheek, she adjusted his tie, and then after listening to a detailed play by play of her day's plans, Dean drove to Bennington's Hotel through a pair of freshly open eyes. He hadn't looked closely before, but now he did. He noticed a pretty woman checking in at the registration desk wearing a business suit over a slender figure. Dean also noticed how attractive the two young women were behind the counter.

'Now I'm checking out women because of Jess's moronic suggestion that I take a weekend off from our marriage.' Dean shook his head. The thought of being with another woman sickened him. Yet, he wondered what it would be like: more exciting, better sex, more enjoyable? How would his marriage fare after? Men had affairs all the time and stayed with their wives. 'No,' Dean thought, 'I can't tarnish my marriage like that. We took oaths, for better and for worse. I'll press on through this period of my life and come out happier for it.'

Dean checked with staff and managers, and made his way to the kitchen to talk to Alex.

"How did the new guy perform yesterday?" he asked, picking up a baby carrot and biting into the crisp vegetable.

The man in his forties with dark hair wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against a stainless-steel counter. "He'll be working the 2-11pm shifts. His resume is extraordinary and he's worked at Emeralds."

"Mm, I love that place." Dean smiled. "They have the best cream of fennel soup I've ever had. Do you think he'd make it for us?"

"Probably for you personally. We can't put a restaurant's exact recipe on our menu, that would be stealing. So, back to Jared, he graduated top in his class at the Culinary Institute."

Dean's brows shot up. "Impressive, but you haven't answered me. How did he do last night?"

Alex shrugged and blinked a few times. "He needs some work to get used to our way of things. He doesn't take direction very well. I think they gave him free reign at Emeralds, but don't worry, I'll shape him up."

Dean patted Alex on the back and left the kitchen. He walked at his leisure, greeting guests and the people who worked for him, on the way to the elevators. The thought of his wife's proposal weighed heavily on his mind, so once behind his desk in the safety of his office he called the eldest brother, Clayton, who ran the Bennington's Hotel in Chicago.

"What's up?" Clayton scribbled his signature on a few pages as he held the phone to his ear with the pressure from his right shoulder.

"Are you busy? I don't want to disturb you."

"I have time for you. What do you need?" Clayton leaned back in his leather chair and put his feet up on his desk.

"I need some advice on women." He chuckled nervously.

Clayton laughed. "Women? What makes you think I know the first thing about how they work?"

"You've been married three times; I thought you'd have learned something by now."

Clayton grunted at his brother's teasing. "Just get down to it. What's the problem? Jess giving you a hard time in the bedroom?"

Dean coughed, shocked his brother guessed right away. He relayed the problems he'd been going through, then told Clayton what Jess suggested.

"You have a winner there! I never received such a generous offer from any of my wives. Might have made the marriages last if they had."

"You cheated despite getting a pass." Dean passed his hand over his face. "That's your fault."

"To tell you the truth, I don't see what your problem could be. Jess said you could go out on her, so do it."

"I don't want to."

"You've given her everything, a new body, face, a house, a car. She's giving you the opportunity of a lifetime."

"I'm not really interested in sex with other women."

"But you're also not interested in sex with her, are you?"

"It's not that. Something's off with me. I can't figure it out."

"Midlife crisis. Been there. Go out and spend a shitload of money or get a new car. Helped me."

"I'm not interested in shopping." Dean tsked. "I'm not really interested in anything anymore."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes," Dean replied without hesitation.

"Are you in love with her?"

Dean straightened in his chair and snapped, "What kind of question is that?"

"Okay, don't get your undies in a bunch. Make a doctor appointment for a physical, maybe your testosterone level dropped, or see a shrink. You could have some deep-seated feelings of inadequacy."

"I can get it up just fine," he lied and changed the subject. He'd only had trouble maintaining an erection within the past few months. "How's your wife?"

"Spending my money as fast as I make it." Clayton laughed and told Dean a story about his two teen-aged twin boys before they said their goodbyes.

Dean felt worse than before. Not from sharing the problems in his marriage, but there didn't seem to be any answer to solving them.

He left the hotel late to avoid a confrontation with his wife. She'd called and wanted him to meet her and her friends and their husbands for dinner at Riviera, and he'd said no. He'd heard her huff, then she'd hung up on him.

The lights were off in the house when he arrived home. He took a steady breath and crept inside to the kitchen for a late night snack. Dean turned on the stove's light and opened the cupboard where he kept his favorite snack, cinnamon graham crackers. He reached for the box, and the ceiling light unexpectedly bathed him in light.

"Where have you been?" Jess asked while she walked to him. She rested her hand on the counter and gazed at his side profile. Her delicate nightgown opened, revealing her nudity.

"Working, where else would I be?" Dean's eyes shifted to her once he had the box in his hand. He took out a cracker and ate it as she shook her head at him and inspected his clothing from top to bottom.

"Did you?"

"Did I what?" Dean asked with a mouthful of cinnamon goodness.

"Sleep with another woman." Jess put her hands on her hips. "Did you?"

"No!" He looked at her with disbelief, then threw her proposal in her face, "It's not the weekend yet and I thought you weren't going to ask about it. You didn't want to know who or when, wasn't that the deal we made?" He regretted the mean-spirited words the second they left his mouth.
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Jess hadn't spoken to Dean in days and she stayed on her side of the bed instead of laying her hand on his chest or her head on his shoulder. Dean slept peacefully, having not a worry until today when he arrived at work.

Alex had been waiting for him, pacing outside Dean's office. Dean saw instantly that his executive chef was angered about something and led him into the room to speak privately.

In a loud voice, Alex said, "I debated over calling you at home last night or waiting until today."

"What's wrong?" Dean leaned on the corner of his oak desk with his arms crossed.

"It's that new guy! He thinks he runs the show! He's arrogant and thinks he can do no wrong. I want him fired." Alex shoved his hands into his pockets and made fists.

"I thought you said he was good."

"He is good, but he won't listen. He takes shortcuts and yells at the other chefs if they don't do it his way. We do things differently at Riviera."

"He is one of a few head chefs, Alex. He's supposed to boss the team around under your watch." Dean frowned. Then again, Alex wasn't one to complain about petty arguments, so maybe this did warrant a firing. "What's his name again?"

"Jared. He's on today at two. I swear if you don't fire him or get him to ease up on the others you'll have staff quitting left and right."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do." Dean stood and walked around his desk and opened his calendar to check his schedule. "Send him up when he gets here. I have time to get his side of the story."

"His side? I told you his side. He's unwavering. He won't listen to me, what makes you think he'll listen to you? Just fire the prick."

"I'm a Bennington. I own this hotel and what I say goes. No ifs, ands or buts. Secondly, you are his boss. You're in charge of him. If you can't control your own crew, including him, then what does that say about you?" Dean took a breath. "I like you Alex, you're a wonderful worker, I can count on you and you're a great friend, so don't take that personally. I'm speaking as a person with invested interest in this hotel."

Alex shook his head. "I have been dealing with him all week. I'm fed up."

Aggravated, Dean gave up. "I said I'd handle it. Just send him up when he gets here!" he spouted and sent Alex on his way.
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Dean let go of his anger and pounded his fist on his desk, swept papers to the floor, and readied his arm to throw his ringing cell phone across the room into the wall. Jess had terrible timing. He didn't want to talk now, or later; preferring to stay cooped up in the privacy of his office. So when there was a knock on the door, he forgot himself and screamed, "Go away," and buried his face in his hands.

The person knocking persisted and Dean strode to the door and pulled it open, anger creating lines around his mouth and eyes. "What?" he snapped at the well-toned, dark haired man. Only a few inches taller, Dean still stared down at him, then familiarity washed over him. Those light brown-green eyes, the wavy hair that seemed a little shorter than he remembered, and that straight nose dappled with light freckles.

"Jared?" Dean asked, astounded. "Jared Slade? Is that you?" He laughed and took the man wearing a white chef's jacket into his arms, hugging him firmly.

"Yeah, it's me. Long time, no see, huh?" Jared patted Dean on the back with a soft touch and an uncomfortable chuckle.

"How've you been?" Dean stepped back, grinning and assessing Jared.

'Since the day you humiliated me by laughing when I told you I loved you? Fine, just fine! Did you even know how long it took me to get up the nerve to face you back then? Did you know how much I wanted you to take me in your arms and tell me you loved me too? Did you realize that I thought my life was over and I fell into a deep depression because of how you rejected me?'

"I've been great." Jared lied convincingly.

"We were such good friends—best friends all through high school. We really should have kept in touch."

Jared rolled his eyes when Dean turned to his desk. "Oh." He looked at the mess he'd made and started to clean up. Jared joined in and soon the papers were back on Dean's desk. "Have a seat." Dean nodded to the chair Jared was to sit on.

"I know I'm in trouble. I'm trying my best, but Alex has a broomstick up his ass and won't let me have any freedoms in the kitchen. I cannot work like that. I've learned to do things my own way and I'm not willing to change now for him, you or anyone. So if you want to fire me, go ahead. I've worked in the best kitchens in the world and all my bosses have given me high praises in their recommendations. I can get a job anywhere like that." He snapped his fingers.

"I don't want to fire you, Jared." Dean stared, laughed and shook his head. "It's so good to see you, man."

Jared's gaze left Dean's face. "You too," he stated, thinking Dean a hypocrite. "Am I free to go or...?"

"Come to my house for dinner tonight," Dean blurted. "We'll relive old times and catch up."

"I'll save you the time. I've spent the past couple of years cooking and going to school. I'd rather not relive old times as they're in the past. I live in the here and now," he said unsmiling and made a move to get up.

Dean persisted. "You're still coming for dinner. I want you to meet my wife."

Jared stilled halfway to standing, then slumped onto the chair with an inward sigh. 'Wife? Oh great. Another slap to the face. Now he wants to flaunt how straight he is to ward me off from coming onto him. I've got news, Mister Bennington, I'm totally over you!

"What do you say? Will you come?" Dean wore an 'I really want to see you' look on his face.

Jared's face twisted in thought. His mind had drawn a blank and try as he might, he couldn't think of a single excuse to turn him down. Then he glanced down, saw his white jacket, and regained his senses. "I'm working tonight. That's why I'm here at this hotel wearing this chef's jacket." His sarcasm was lost on Dean.

Dean scrubbed his jawline. "Right. I have to reprimand you for the problems in the kitchen." His eyes met Jared's and his voice turned strict, "You have the rest of today off with pay. Since you're not working tonight, I'll pick you up outside the hotel at six."

Dammit. Now he had no excuses. Jared pressed his lips together. A moment later he asserted with a stern gaze, "I'd rather follow you to your home." To be at Dean's disposal wouldn't bode well. He didn't trust him. In fact, this whole dinner thing sounded suspicious. He imagined it now: Dean introducing him to his wife, laughing and explaining to her how Jared loved him and wanted him and even tried to kiss him. The wife would laugh uproariously and announce that Jared must be delusional because there wasn't a gay bone, a gay cell, in Dean's hot body. He and his wife would have their fun at Jared's expense and Jared would walk out with his tail between his legs, cursing himself for trusting Dean once again.

"The thing is, Jared, I thought we'd hit a bar after dinner. We can catch up there. My wife will be dominating the conversation during the meal, I'm sure. She loves to be the center of attention. It would be best if we rode together. You can drink and I'll drive, or vice versa, whatever your preference."

"A bar?" Dean wouldn't be caught in a gay bar, so Jared assumed Dean meant a sports bar; after all, he looked like he watched sports—a manly sport—and Jared wouldn't be caught dead in a straight bar. It wasn't that he disliked them. The reason being he didn't hide who he was. He dressed the way he wanted and took great care to look good and that meant spending time on his appearance. Almost anyone who encountered him would get the 'he's gay' vibe. Sports bars were full of beefy men who'd love to take Jared out back and beat the shit out of him if he looked at them the wrong way.

"Yes, a bar. You do know what one is, right?" Dean chuckled, a deep, rich sound that Jared recalled from years ago. One that once warmed Jared all over, yet had also caused a shiver up and down his spine—as it did now.

"I don't-"

"Don't say no." Although Dean's voice came out soft-spoken, it still had that authoritative sound to it.

Jared's gaze fell to the desk and he found himself answering, "Okay. I'll be here at six, waiting outside at the fountain. The gigantic fountain in front of the hotel attracted many. It spouted water and spotlights colored each shot as it gushed to the sky. Unique, rare flowers surrounded the concrete circular fountain, making the hotel appear inviting, yet expensive and tailored to the guests.

Dean sensed Jared's anxiety. "Seriously, how have you been?"

"Great." Jared repeated what he'd said before to protect himself from further embarrassment; even though he felt the heat on his face. "You?"

Dean nodded. "I guess I'm fine," he answered, not really feeling it.

Jared picked up on the dispirited answer, but he didn't say anything. Best to keep this a boss-worker situation. They were no longer friends in Jared's eyes. "If that's all…?" He once again began to rise.

"It's just that I feel I'm wasting my life, or that something is absent, misplaced. I don't understand it at all. I'm not complaining, there's just … oh well, never mind."

And again, Jared lowered himself to the chair. He clutched the armrests and ground his teeth. He didn't want any part of getting to know Dean, especially how the man felt emotionally. Jared would rather throw himself in front of a bus going at a speed of 100 miles an hour. He wiggled in the chair, uncomfortable with Dean's uninhibited admittance. But had he really admitted to anything? Perhaps Dean needed a laugh and baited Jared? Jared wasn't falling for it. He sat quietly, ignoring his own discomfort and the grief in Dean's voice. Who talks like this to someone they hadn't seen in years? It was almost as if Dean thought they could pick up from where they left off in high school. 'Best friends- Ha! What a fucking joke.'

Dean eyed Jared. "You know, Alex likes men and women. Maybe if you flirt—ah, forget it. That's dumb."

"Damn right it is!" Jared shook his head, disbelieving Dean would suggest such a stupid thing. Alex was his boss, and why the hell had Dean felt the need to set him up with someone? "I have to go. As I recall, I have the day off for reasons I don't understand." He finally rose off the chair and stood, combing his wavy hair with his fingers in an impulsive way. It had become a nervous habit, but better than biting his nails or taking up smoking. Smoking killed taste buds and he needed them as a chef.

"I shouldn't have suggested it." Dean got up and walked to the door to let Jared out. "I thought if you weren't dating-"

"What I do on my own time is none of your business. It stopped being your business years ago," Jared rushed bitterly, his hazel eyes hardened before they darted away. His hand shot forward and twisted the door handle before Dean could react. He stormed out, unbuttoning and shrugging off his chef's jacket.

For the life of him, Dean couldn't figure out why Jared acted the way he did. Then it came to him. He'd shamed Jared with the punishment of giving him the day off. It'd been a hard place to be in as the owner of the hotel; reprimand his friend or let Jared's actions slide. In the end, being Jared's boss won out. There'd be no room for favorites here if Jared wanted to earn respect and respect himself.

His cell rang and this time he answered. "Hi Jess."

"You didn't answer before."

"I had a meeting," he replied with his mood lifted. "What did you need?"

"Can you get my aerobics trainer fired? He is gay. All us girls figured it out after he received a call."

"You came to that conclusion because of a one sided phone call?"

"He spoke to another man, called him George, and ended the call by saying he loved him and he'd see him tonight after work. I'm not going back there until he's gone."

"Jess, Jesus, what's the problem? I'm positive he's qualified to teach the class."

"Didn't you hear me? He's gay. I won't stand for it. You call and tell the fitness center to get someone else. None of us are going to aerobics until he's fired. Let him teach a class with no paying customers and maybe he'll get the hint that he doesn't belong there."

Dean's anger began in his stomach and rose to his head. He became overheated. "You're unbelievable."

"Thank you, baby! I will get my way if I have to fight tooth and nail. I'm so happy you agree with me on this." Her bubbly voice and naivety irked Dean to the point of going off on her.

"I didn't mean it in a complimentary way, Jess," he spoke through his clenched teeth. "You're being ridiculous. His sexuality shouldn't bother you."

"I don't want to interact with him. It's disgusting what he does with other guys. I literally get sick when I think about it," Jess's high-pitched, protracted voice rattled Dean's nerves.

"Literally? I highly doubt that. Do you know the meaning of literally?" Dean snapped, picking on any little infraction.

"Whatever, Dean. What's got you so pissy?"

"Never mind." He rested his eyes closed for a moment to transform his mood. "Listen, I invited an old friend over for dinner. Do you think you could order in? Japanese or Thai for six o'clock."

Her sing-song tone made Dean wince. "Not until you apologize for yelling at me.

Christ. This is what's wrong. Her control over him made him feel like a child. "I'm sorry."

"Good enough. Dinner will be here for the three of us. Oh! What's your friend's name?"

"Jared Slade. We attended the same high school."

"I'll see you both then." Jess hung up.