Chapter 2
TWO
The problem with small towns wasn’t that they were small, but that they were awful.
At least, that was Benny's deep-seated belief as he tried to smile like he wasn't panicking inside as he faced Arbor Bay's queen bee. An unwelcome experience on its own. Never mind the fact that the guy who didn’t even know he was in the spotlight in Benny’s freak viral tour was across the room from them.
And the only person in the entire world who knew Marcus was ‘Guy?’ The over-six-foot bartender standing one easy cup throw away from them.
Benny wished he was back on Ethan's kindergarten classroom floor, groaning like the responsible adult he was.
“Hey, Carol,” Benny exclaimed, mimicking her no-doubt fake enthusiasm. “It's been a while.”
Two years, give or take. A brief conversation at the drive-in fraught with passive aggressive remarks about how Benny hadn't changed a bit since they'd graduated.
Not that Benny was keeping tabs.
Carol tossed her long, loose blond curls over her shoulder and tilted her head ever so slightly to the side.
“I heard that you were back in town, but I didn't believe it. What with everything going on, I thought you'd be much busier. Then again, I guess you're not used to attention like this. It can be hard to manage.”
Benny gave a small, fake laugh.
“It's been interesting, that's for sure, but there's not much I can really do at this point other than just ride it out, I guess. Taking the blog down wouldn't even do much, considering we live in a world of screenshots.”
Carol pressed a hand to her chest. Sympathy, performed by the eldest Robertson.
“You know, I haven't had the time to read the blog myself, but Ruby filled me in on the highlights.”
Whereas Ethan and Benny had been best friends since childhood, Ruby had been a loyal lackey of Carol's since seventh grade. Benny would bet every flower that he’d ever sold at the florist shop that Type A Ruby had a binder somewhere with every embarrassing detail from his blog—tabbed, color-coded, and ready for Carol’s perusal.
Probably even a PowerPoint presentation too, with an added bonus of pictures from school so they could reminisce about his unfortunate ninth-grade tapered highlights.
“I was cringing just listening to some of your stories,” Carol added. “I don't know how you can stand to be in public right now, to be honest.”
Had Benny not been taught the ways of faking politeness as a part of his southern upbringing, he would have frowned hard at that dig.
Gritted his teeth a little bit. Maybe growled.
Carol was good like that. She had this tone that made the person she was talking to want to flex to prove their worth yet, somehow at the same time, remind them that folding in was the only socially acceptable option.
Once again, of the few things Benny was grateful for since the blog had gone viral was the fact that he'd never written about the queen bee. Even after changing everyone else’s names before even posting privately, Benny had never dared roll the dice of potentially summoning her wrath.
“It's an exercise in willpower, I assure you,” Benny replied. He glanced over at Jack the Bartender. His interest still seemed to be on everything but them.
Small blessings.
Carol didn’t let that blessing bloom further. Her tone dipped into serpent-like territory, eyes alight, a snake who just caught a mouse.
“Well, from what I can tell for The One Who Said Nothing, you sure said a lot.” She leaned in enough that Benny could smell her perfume.
“Between you and me, I think it was very smart of you not to tell the world who you-know-who was.
There's no pride to be had when feelings are one-sided, you know?”
Poof.
Panic replaced the urgency to flee just like that.
Did Carol know?
She couldn’t know.
She didn’t know.
Did she know?
Benny nodded, lips tightening with the hope that Carol would leave the jab at that before returning to the hive from whence she came. But she must have sensed the nerve she’d been searching for had indeed been hit. Instead of relenting, she pulled more attention to their tableau.
She motioned to Jack with a flourish of red-tipped nails.
“The usual for us,” she said, pointing back to the booth her brother, Ruby, and another friend had settled into. “And one more of whatever our very own celebrity here is drinking.”
Jack's eyebrow rose at that. His disinterest had apparently been genuine. Which was fantastic news for Benny. Jack the Bartender didn’t remember him.
Though, Carol looked ready to cackle.
“Haven't you seen the news?” she asked. “Benny here is famous now.”
Jack continued to look unimpressed.
“Oh really? For what?”
Carol was absolutely delighted to answer.
“For being in love,” she said. She tapped her phone like an influencer recommending a product online. “Look him up. Benny De Carlo.”
Carol squeezed Benny's shoulder. Her fabricated smile slipped back into place alongside some confusion.
It was a look that put a foreboding sense of danger in Benny's gut.
I could run, he thought, adrenaline spiking. Who would even stop me? I’ve already paid for my drinks so I can just—
Carol's smile went high-wattage bright.
“You know what, Benny? It's so sad to drink alone; why don't you come join us? You know Marcus already, and I'm sure Ruby and John would love to pick your brain. It's not every day an Arbor Bay native makes such a big splash. Come entertain us with your little stories.”
She winked. Winked.
Why was she always winking?
It was clearly a trap. A threat. An eyelid that batted but was only the opening swing of many.
Benny’s panic nearly broke through his chest. For whatever reason, he glanced at the only safe spot left within his reach.
Which didn't help matters at all.
Jack the Bartender was no longer looking at him with a slightly-dissociated stare.
As clear as the regret Benny had seen in the mirror the morning he’d found out he was trending, Benny could see recognition explode within the bartender’s beautiful green eyes.
Before Benny could pretend it was anything other than that, Jack’s gaze went from him to the booth across the room.
Where Marcus the Guy Robertson was sitting.
All reasonable excuses as to why Benny couldn't join Carol went out the window.
Once he lost those, he was toast.
And Carol knew he couldn’t resist.
“Grab your drink and let's go.” She wrapped her arm around Benny's shoulders and guided him off the stool. “Between your fame and Marcus's new engagement, we'll be talking all night.”
Benny had never had a panic attack before but, by God, he was sure he was about to have a new experience right then. There were too many things going on. Too many opportunities to say the wrong thing or, worse for him, the right thing.
He’d come back to Arbor Bay for that reason alone—he was trying to avoid the world.
Now? Now he was a grown-ass man, letting a grown-ass woman walk him like a dog to his grown-ass doom.
Best case scenario? He kept his one secret safe while making a fool of the rest of his life. Worst case? He admitted he'd been totally and terrifyingly in love with Marcus to Marcus.
While the queen of all gossip in Arbor Bay sat at the table watching.
Small towns were truly awful.
* * *
Jack Knox had already counted the cars in the parking lot before he'd come inside the bar. It had forced him to the one conclusion he had been trying not to conclude.
There weren't as many as he'd hoped.
While Fridays and Saturdays were a much busier time for most bars, Cassidy’s Place lived and died during the weekdays.
All except Wednesdays. There was a plummet in patron attendance thanks to church services.
At least, that had been Jack's experience during the last six years he'd been tending bar there.
Tonight, there was no church.
But the parking lot said otherwise.
Jack had already counted the vehicles and done the damage in his head.
There were four cars, two trucks, and a bicycle. One truck was his, one car was his cousin Dixon's, and their only server and part-time cook Santana cruised between the bar and her house a block away by bike.
The math wasn’t great. It hadn’t been since The Drinking Spot, the brand-spanking-new bar twenty minutes outside of Arbor Bay, had opened. Instead of trying to compete with the city, the owner Thomas Bleuth had decided to come for Cassidy’s locals.
And, for the last six months, he'd been getting more and more of them.
That math, that reality, that kick-in-the-teeth, kick-in-the-ass annoyance had kept Jack mostly cussing up a storm in his own head when he had first walked through the back door of the bar, through the kitchen, and out into the main room.
Even as Dixon tried to show him something on his phone, he was still running numbers and contemplating the legality of sabotaging The Drinking Spot on his night off.
So Jack missed a lot of things all at once.
Right before he finally clued in all at once too.
What started the chain reaction was Miss Pain in the Ass, Carol Robertson herself.
Jack was an Arbor Bay local, but not a career one like Dixon.
He'd transferred in as a sophomore in high school and had the great fortune to be two years older than Carol.
Which meant Jack had missed living through her tyrannical reign during high school and, since then, had been able to keep ahead of it as they'd gotten older.
Sure, he talked to her every once in a while—it was hard not to talk to someone in a town this size—but Carol never seemed to care all that much about forming a connection past that.
A blow to his pride in any other situation but, in this instance, he'd been grateful.
High maintenance didn't quite do the woman justice. And that was before Dixon had recapped his and Carol’s awful first—and only—date they'd gone on during her senior year.