22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Benji
It’s a perfect summer evening. The cabins at Happy Lake are fully booked, and about three-quarters of the tent and RV sites are occupied. The air is full of campfire smoke, the shouts of kids playing, and the scent of everyone cooking dinner on their grill.
There’s been a steady stream of guests all day, which is normal for a Friday. Checking in, buying whatever necessary groceries they forgot to pack, and wandering through the trinkets and souvenirs.
I’m supposed to close the lodge with Diana, but she’s chatting with some guests on the deck—talking about the canoes and paddleboards—while I restock candy from the back. Every surface is gleaming, and I have an hour left before I go home to Gina.
Laughter rings through the air long before the bell tinkles, and a group of happily buzzed women stumble in. I recognize them as the ones I played cornhole with yesterday.
“Ah, the young man who can’t get it in the hole!” one calls out when she sees me. Another sputters. The other two are already heading for the freezer with the bags of ice.
I wave. “That’s me.”
“It’s daiquiri night,” one of them says. “If you want a rematch.”
“Sorry, ladies, I don’t have the stamina for daiquiris.” Not when I want to get home to my wife.
Gina picks that moment to walk through the door. She waves at the group of women as she joins me. “I thought Diana might send you home early, but I see it’s still busy.”
She touches my back as she steps around me, but her fingers trail low for a second too long, and I give her what I hope is a stern look. It must come across as thirsty, though, because she blushes.
The bell over the door goes hard as the screen is flung open, and Ty and Cayden—the recent high school graduates with the parkour habit—hurtle inside. They skid to a halt when they see me. One holds up his phone triumphantly. “We’ve gone viral.”
I nod, clueless but happy for them. “Good job.”
“It’s the duck video,” the other adds.
Oh, right. I wince and touch my forehead.
Gina giggles, then claps a hand over her mouth when I look at her.
“You didn’t tag me, right?” I pat my pockets, but I don’t even know where I left my phone—probably Gina’s kitchen table.
Since coming here, I haven’t spent much time on it.
But it would figure that a video of me getting brained by a duck would get more engagement than any of the content I post. Not that I don’t go viral occasionally, but there are loads of thirst traps out there, and it’s hard to stand out.
“No, but uh—” they share a nervous glance. “Someone else tagged you in the comments.”
That might be a problem. Would mob lackeys be monitoring my socials for tags? Or are they too busy doing lackey shit?
Cayden nudges Ty, who clears his throat. “So we checked out your account.”
“Bro, you’re like Magic Mike and shit, aren’t you?” Cayden interrupts.
I glance over at Diana, but she’s still talking outside.
The woman getting the ice is suddenly at the end of the aisle. “Did someone say Magic Mike?” she asks.
“Um…” Shit. I glance at Gina, but she’s got the same deer-in-headlights look as I do.
“See?” Ty holds out his phone.
And that’s a video of me and some of the guys rehearsing some new choreography from my TikTok a few months ago. In gym clothes, at least.
The woman leans forward, her eyes lighting up. “Abby,” she calls out. “Come here, look at this!”
“How do we stop this?” I whisper to Gina.
She shakes her head. “Too late.”
“Can you teach us some moves?” Cayden asks. “Not the humping ones. Just the dive thing—” He mimes something with his hand.
“This one,” Ty says, cueing up another video.
“We tried but face-planted hard. There’s got to be some trick.”
It’s a dolphin dive and I’m not surprised they face-planted. I spent a solid month kissing the floor while learning that move. “It’s just timing and practice.”
“Show us,” the woman with the ice says.
I look at Gina, and she shrugs.
Well, this has spiraled out of control remarkably fast. I exit the aisle, and everyone gathers around the clear space in front of the reception desk.
“What’s going on?” Diana asks, stepping in through the sliding glass doors.
I jump in before anyone can bring up Magic Mike again.
“These guys want to see a dance move.” Diana thinks I’m a dance instructor and it’s only a dolphin dive.
It’s cool but not something unique to an all-male revue.
Before Diana can protest, I do the move, pairing it with a rise up to get back to my feet smoothly.
The ladies clap, but I’m watching Gina’s slow smile.
Like she’s remembering when I danced for her in her cabin.
I do the dolphin dive more slowly, showing the guys how to land on their right toes instead of their right knees, to lower their faces to the floor after that so they don’t face-plant, and how to kick their left leg through for the rise up.
Diana won’t let them practice in the lodge—she’s told them off about the parkour a few times now—so they head back to their family’s cabin, the bell over the door jingling on their way out.
I slip behind the counter as the still-whispering women bring their ice and snacks up.
“We’d like to hire you for tomorrow night,” one of them says. “If you’d do a private show?”
I freeze, my hand on the ice.
“We don’t want happy endings,” another pipes up. “We won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, and no one wants to see your dingaling.”
Diana gasps. My eyes meet Gina’s, and to my surprise, my wife is trying to hold back a laugh. It warms me that she’s not embarrassed or freaking out that I’ve been outed.
“Yeah, keep your pants on,” another woman says. “I’m sorry—you’re very nice looking, but a man in a thong is only ever funny, not sexy.”
Diana clears her throat. “There must be some misunderstanding. Benji is a dance instructor .”
“Oh,” the first one says brightly, “So you teach the other guys on stage? Do the choreography? Maybe you can teach us a few moves.”
“Not that thing you just did, I’d put my back out,” another interjects.
“Right, not that. But—”
“He’s not a stripper,” Diana snaps.
“Actually,” Gina pipes up. “He is.”
“Was,” I interject, encouraged by Gina’s smile. “The show I was in closed.” I turn to Diana. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that. I wanted you to like me.”
Diana stares at me, bewildered. Then she sighs like she’s disappointed in me, which surprisingly hurts. “I wouldn’t dislike you because of something like that. Despite what some might think, I’m not that small-minded.”
She doesn’t glance at Gina, so she’s talking about Milo. Maybe Milo and Gina have underestimated her. If they told her the truth, maybe she’d still be willing to sell them Happy Lake when she retires. Their fears might have blown this whole thing out of proportion.
“So, will you do it?” the first woman asks. “Whatever price you set, we can pay it.”
“I have to ask my”—my eyes flick to Gina, and I can’t say wife or even girlfriend , so I look at Diana— “boss.”
Diana gives the group a stern look. “Benji can dance for you tomorrow night if he wants. But with conditions.”
Those conditions include the party taking place inside the cabin, with no minors present.
The music can’t be excessively loud, and there’s no dancing on top of furniture.
We have to be finished by ten-thirty. They have to respect whatever boundaries I set, and I have to set some—absolutely no happy endings .
Those words from Diana’s mouth might make me laugh, except the idea of sleeping with anyone who isn’t Gina makes my stomach turn.
The woman whose ice is melting on the counter smiles at me. “Are you interested?”
I glance at Gina, and she gives me the slightest, almost imperceptible nod. I have to trust her. We can’t exactly talk about this right now. No one can know we’re married. This sucks, but the cash could go toward a new ring for Gina. “Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “I’ll do it.”