Chapter 2 #2
So when Carol told him to look up the man at the bar, Jack had started to clue in on what was happening in the present and not the lack of vehicles in the parking lot.
Not because he had any interest in Googling anyone, but because he wanted to pay attention to what Carol wanted… so he could do the opposite.
People like Carol, with their constant need to remind everyone of their wealth and status, rubbed him the wrong way. Though that might have had more to do with the fact that Felicity had left him for not having much of either.
Thinking, even fleetingly, of his ex only made Jack more rebellious in the moment.
He took the name, Benny De Carlo, and burned it into his brain so he'd make sure to never look the man up. A silent bird-flip to the rich and entitled of Arbor Bay.
But then, the man really looked at him.
Dark eyes set in a face filled with not-so-hidden discomfort.
And it clicked.
The first time he'd met Benny De Carlo he was rosy-cheeked, rocking back and forth on his barstool, and professing his intentions to marry the Marcus Robertson.
“I'm going to put a ring on his finger,” he'd pronounced, index finger soaring through the air over the bar between them. “Yep. I'm going to be the one who proposes too. I'm just going to do it. Like Nike. I'm going to just do it!”
His voice had risen at the shoe company's slogan. Then he had ended the fantasy with a laugh.
Because that's what it was. A fantasy.
One of the many Jack had heard over the last six years he’d spent bartending. Everyone of a certain age had either wanted or currently wanted a Robertson. And while Jack had been lightly surprised that Benny had had his eyes on the male counterpart, the facts didn’t change.
It was a fantasy.
A fantasy that Jack had never had about the male Robertson.
Marcus Robertson was the biggest, richest, model-looking stick in the mud in town. Just like his twin.
The shorter, dark-haired man who'd been swaying on his barstool across from him would have to stand in a long, long line to get on that ride.
But what kind of bartender would he have been to point that fact out?
In the moment Jack had decided to appear supportive.
“Confidence like that is commendable,” Jack had decided on when the man seemed to be waiting for some kind of response.
He'd apparently appreciated the one Jack had picked. His mess of hair had bounced as he nodded.
“Love makes you stand up,” he had said sagely. “And I’m ready to stand tall!”
He'd gone after his glass after that and, for a second, Jack was sure he was going to raise it in a toast. Thankfully, he just tried to drink from it. A hard feat, considering he had finished that drink ten minutes beforehand.
“See, I'm done with being the only one sitting life out,” Benny had continued, replacing the glass on the bar top. “Why don't I just tell him? I mean, it's my turn to be the one making plans. It's my turn to be the one showing off. It's my turn to get the pony.”
Jack had raised his eyebrow on that last point.
“I don't know if that's code for something, but I'm sure one day you'll get that pony,” he had tried. “Whatever that pony may be.”
Now, after making the Robertson group’s drinks and then going to the office to drop off some mail, Jack paused in the hallway that opened up to the back of the bar to begrudgingly Google Benny. He wanted to know if he'd gotten his pony.
Judging by the first post that popped up? Marcus still had no idea about Benny’s crush on him.
“Small-town man strikes accidental gold after DearMe blog goes viral.
There are no secrets left from Benny De Carlo...
All except the ones the internet wants to know.
Who is Guy? Will he ever tell him how he felt?
How he, the internet assumes, still feels?
And, if he's one of the million people obsessed with The One Who Said Nothing, could he feel the same way?
Also, can we get another blog entry about that fishing trip to Florida? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
Until The One Who Said Nothing says something, here's twenty-five of the best social media reactions to the viral sensation to keep you entertained!”
Jack didn't look at the list of gifs and comments, but his curiosity had more than been piqued.
It went straight through the roof as the man of the hour himself suddenly appeared in front of Jack.
There was no nice little southern greeting.
Only a statement of fact.
“You remember me,” Benny said.
Jack nodded. He couldn’t help but add some snark in.
“I do, and I have to ask... Did you ever get that pony?”
Benny's hand shot out and over Jack’s mouth so quickly that Jack didn't have time to stop it. He caught the scent of something citrus before Benny's eyes went wide and he pulled his hand right on back.
“Sorry,” he hurried, cheeks going from tan to red within a blink. He lowered his voice. “It's just that, well, no one is supposed to know about that…thing I told you. About, well, you know.”
“You wanting to marry Marcus Robertson,” Jack filled in.
Benny's eyes went wider, if possible.
“Yeah. That and, well, I'd really appreciate it if you could keep that a secret. Keep my secret, I mean. Like just between the two of us. Or maybe just forget it all together. That would be— That would be the best thing I think for you. For us, for me, I mean.”
The man was floundering. Even more so than when he'd actually been drunk. Or, maybe he was drunk now? Jack took a second to look into his eyes.
Whiskey-in-a-bottle amber, not mocha brown.
Warm, smooth, ready to make things interesting.
Jack decided he was just freaking out.
Unlike Carol, he was sure, he took pity on the man. Jack laughed, a move that didn't seem to help Benny’s nerves, and held up one hand in a stop motion.