Chapter 18 #2
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” He snorted. “You want to know what a goddamn travesty is? How damn expensive these things are.” Dixon picked up the box closest to him and shook it. There was a cartoon woman on the box playing soccer. It was very festive. “Guess how much just this one set me back?”
Jack opened his mouth to answer, but Dixon was on a roll.
“Damn near seven dollars! And don't even get me started on the pearl one. I close to lost it when she rang that one up.” He threw the box down. “And people need to use these every month, Jack. Every. Month. And that’s not accounting for those pad things when they don’t want to do tampons.
Not to mention the overnight stuff, which I couldn’t even start to factor in. Like, how the hell do they afford it?”
He shook his head, disgusted and leaving no room for Jack to respond.
“I was going to only put a few of these out in the bathroom at the party to try and give everyone an option, but I have half a mind to throw them all in the bathroom with a sign that says, 'Take as many as you need. Sorry about America.’”
Jack waited a beat to see if his cousin was done or ready to start swinging.
It seemed safe for the moment so Jack tentatively stepped in.
“So, I take it you're still doing the tampon platter for the party.”
Dixon blew out a breath but nodded.
“I'm telling you. It's a service every bar should have.”
Jack laughed. Not at the idea, but the sheer conviction behind Dixon's words.
“I'm just hoping we have enough people at the party to appreciate the gesture,” Jack pointed out.
Dixon didn’t seem to be too worried.
At least, not when it came to anything other than the tampon prices.
“Once Missy Robertson put her stamp of approval on this party, we were guaranteed almost all of Arbor Bay. Then Benny said he’d also talk it up, so I’m sure that’ll pull in whoever Missy’s mouth missed.
Which means it should be a killer party if we do it right.
Even Mom and Dad are so excited that they're going to help us and Santana run things. Lucy was even talking about catching a flight here just for fun.”
He was right.
And that made Jack’s barely-there nerves…a little more there.
That wasn’t even adding in what had happened with Benny the night before.
Jack had gone to his house out of guilt afterwards.
He’d been trying to get Benny to relax. To let go. To worry less.
But what he’d done with the gel?
Well, to say he hadn’t gotten something good out of it too would be a lie.
Jack, his gel, and Benny’s candlestick.
In the damn bedroom.
But, what his candlestick wanted aside, being physical with Benny had also seemed the only answer, the only way to show Benny that he…cared.
The second Benny had reacted to that care?
Was the second Jack had lost his composure.
It wasn’t until he’d woken up that morning, Benny fast asleep in his arms, that Jack had remembered their deal.
So, like any normal fake-boyfriend would do after performing a dual hand job before becoming the big spoon, Jack fled the scene.
Then, when Benny didn’t reach out to him later?
Well, he wasn’t going to be the one who did it first.
Just because biology had taken over control the night before, didn’t mean it needed a repeat. In fact, if Benny didn’t want to talk about it, then Jack wasn’t going to either.
He’d made his point after all.
If Benny didn’t believe he was over Felicity, then there was nothing else he could do.
Just like there was nothing he could do about Marcus Robertson.
Anger trickled into his chest at the thought of Golden Boy. Not at the man himself, but at the fact that he made Jack jealous.
Because that’s what he had felt on the boat.
Jealousy.
Every time Benny had laughed at his jokes, talked to him a little too long, or when he’d gotten his answer during Carol’s stupid little game. It was a nasty, crawling feeling, and Jack hated he couldn’t stop it.
So, maybe he hadn’t just gone to Benny because he thought he needed reassurance.
Maybe it had been him looking for a sign that he was the choice.
Not Guy.
But it hadn’t mattered in the long run.
A little fun last night had turned into a day of silence.
Jack wasn’t sure where that left him and Benny and, he’d decided in a huff of resilience, he wasn’t going to be the one who spoke first.
“I'm going to take these to the bar tonight and see if Santana has any insights,” Dixon finally said, bringing Jack back to his current tampon-platter reality. “If I’m doing this right, I want to do it right, you know?”
Jack understood the sentiment. He nodded solemnly to his cousin.
“You’re doing God's work.”
Dixon left the apartment, determined.
Jack watched him go, an uneasiness in him starting to twitch. He threw on his shorts, tennis shoes, and grabbed a bottle of water, deciding to try and run off some of his mounting frustrations.
It was just dumb luck he was staring down at his phone when it lit up with an incoming call.
He didn’t recognize the number.
He did, however, understand there was a problem.
“Hey, uh… Jack?” the man’s voice was filled with anxiety. “This is— This is Ethan, you know, Benny’s best friend, and, uh— We kind of need your help.”
Jack was already going for his keys.
“What happened?” he asked. “Are y’all okay?”
Jack could hear someone—he assumed Benny—talking in the background. Though, he couldn’t make out the words.
“Yeah, yeah we’re good,” Ethan hurried. “We, uh, we just did something kind of dumb.”