Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Mary and Rebecca Saunders had three hundred wedding guests. It was one of the largest parties Benny had seen at the Jane Thomas Estate, droves of well-dressed people pouring through from the main hall where the ceremony had been held and into the grand room where the reception had taken place.
It had been a nice wedding.
Fun too.
The head chef in charge of the catering for the estate, one of his favorite people to work with, had even gone as far as to praise the event, a rare but gratifying occasion.
There had been some misty-eyed moments from the chef too, peeking out as the bride and bride walk-out included both sets of parents on either side.
It had been full of love.
It had been special.
Benny had expected the sight, the feeling, would hurt a little.
It hadn’t.
Which had been surprising.
Or maybe not.
He’d smiled at the noise of the room and had been one of many to yell in joy as the women got into their limo and drove off once everything was said and done.
Now, Benny was back in the main hall, trash bag in hand and staring at the wooden archway still standing at the end of the room.
The bag crinkled as he twisted his fingers along the plastic.
He didn’t sigh because he’d sighed enough in the last week.
He’d sighed when he’d finally stepped foot back into his apartment, sighed when his neighbors had converged to make sure he’d seen all the new articles and videos about him, and he’d sighed right before he’d finally answered another phone call sent out into the ether by Rizzie Chaplan, literary agent extraordinaire.
The One Who Said Nothing was no longer a chronicle of a man too afraid to tell someone he’d loved him. It was a journey of someone who had been too afraid of pain to live at all. To love fully, to connect.
And it was about finally doing just that.
Jumping off that cliff, hitting the ground, and deciding that it was okay to walk away.
“Let me tell you something that no one else in this industry will tell you. Happily ever afters in love never really need the second person,” Rizzie had told Benny after he’d recapped everything.
“We just want to know that our person will be okay, that they’ll be happy with their choices.
You took a chance, it didn’t work out, but there’s a beauty in that, Benny.
You did the thing. And now everyone wants to know what you’ll do next. ”
Rizzie had told him she needed to have some more conversations before she could tell him what that meant from her.
Benny understood that. Carol’s crystal-clear recording of Benny and Jack’s conversation in the auditorium had made The One Who Said Nothing trend even wider than before he’d gone to Arbor Bay.
He wasn’t sure what that meant either.
He did know that watching the video himself had made him feel a lot of things.
He wasn’t sure exactly what those things were, but he at least could pinpoint the painful parts.
The urge to complain to Jack about it, to recap his favorite and least favorite comments that he’d accidentally read, to ask him to make Benny a drink, had been coming and going in waves.
He’d almost called the bartender once, twice—okay, five—times since being back.
But the look of hurt on Jack’s face before he’d walked away stayed his hand.
Forcing a happily ever after would never make any special days.
It would never make the normal ones beautiful either.
Benny would just have to hurt.
Then, one day, he would heal and figure out where to go next.
Benny nodded to no one and bent down to grab a discarded program from beneath one of the seats.
It was an awkward angle. He had to twist around to try to reach it. His arm wasn't long enough, but he was finding himself to be more and more stubborn these days. He put the trash bag down and went lower in another attempt, determined.
Another hand got the paper first, from the other direction.
Benny, expecting it to be one of the venue staff members, readied a smile.
“Oh, thanks,” he said.
However, when he straightened, the man wasn’t wearing a collared shirt with the estate emblem on it and pressed slacks. Instead, he was dressed down in jeans and a Star Trek T-shirt.
“Marcus?”
Marcus Robertson’s smile outshined his by a sun’s worth.
“We never really got a chance to talk the other day, so why not do it now?”
Benny’s brow furrowed in so hard that he could see the tops of his own eyebrows in his periphery.
Marcus held up his hand to stop any incoming questions.
“I remember that day, the one at the fountain where you came out to me,” he said, a rare quickness to his words. “And I think it’s important that I remind you of something I feel like you left out of the story.”
Benny felt like he was in the Twilight Zone.
Up was down, down was up, Marcus Robertson was in Nashville, and Benny had no idea what he could have possibly left out of what had become the origin story for Guy.
Marcus continued, that rare quickness became something even more unusual.
Arbor Bay’s Golden Boy became serious.
“What I remember most about that whole conversation wasn’t the fact that you were upset, or gay, or that you talked faster than I’d ever heard someone talk before,” he started. “What I remember is how impressed I was.”
Benny had to question that.
“Impressed? With what? Me?”
Marcus nodded.
“You weren’t scared,” he said, simply. “You were crying, yeah, sad and worried, sure. But scared?” Marcus shrugged.
“Well, I just never felt that from you. Instead, you said what you needed to and then you went to school the next day. Then the day after that. Then you went to prom, and graduated, and came back to Arbor Bay for holidays.”
He took a seat in the chair next to him, angled so he could still see Benny’s no doubt bewildered expression.
It gave him the appearance of being incredibly casual.
Which made the whole situation even more bizarre to Benny.
“I know I haven’t had to deal with anything like that in my life, but still, watching you live yours has always been kind of inspiring. I’m the one who should be grateful you trusted me with that moment. And, well, I’m sorry that Carol messed up your chance with Jack.”
Benny felt like he was sixteen again, staring at sunshine personified.
Now, he knew he preferred the rain.
Still, he smiled at his Guy.
“You really are a good person, Marcus Robertson,” Benny said. “I hope you know that.”
The easy humor that usually existed around the man came back with a laugh.
“Hold onto those feelings while I ask you to hear her out now.”
He stood and swept a glance toward a new sound echoing throughout the main hall.
It was high heels.
It was Carol Robertson.
She didn’t have a sunhat on, but her attention was, as always, laser-sharp on Benny.
The Queen Bee of Arbor Bay herself stopped a few feet from him.
Marcus stood from his seat and walked past her out of the hall, a revolving door of Robertson twins.
A moment or two crept by.
Benny was just about to break their awkward silence when Carol finally did it for them.
“You were right.”
Three words.
Three words that were more shocking than if she’d told him she loved him.
“You are right,” she continued. “I've been a total bitch to you and to Jack and…to a lot of people. For no reason other than being jealous. Which, I know, is as cliché as you said.”
For the first time since Benny had known the woman, an expression of guilt paired with the pristine make-up applied to her face.
“The overplayed truth is, I've grown up in the spotlight. My family has, I mean, and they…I’m not like them.” She motioned behind her, manicure glinting from the overhead lights, hanging down like curious stars.
“I’m not like Marcus. Or Mom. People don’t… They don’t come easy to me. Even Dad has this way about him that— Well, I guess it’s not important.”
Another first happened right there between the two of them.
Carol looked…nervous.
She grabbed the hem of her shirt and rubbed at it, seemingly finding what she really wanted to say.
“The point is, when you came to town and everyone flocked to you, I was annoyed. But then, when I realized they were doing it because they actually cared? About you? About Jack, the guy who’s never cared about his appearance or his attitude or any of the things I’ve had to care about my entire life?
I kind of lost it. And I wanted you to lose it too. ”
She dropped her head a little.
Her hair was tied back in a ponytail.
It was a little messy.
“I know I’m just a cliché, the stereotypical mean girl, but I think it’s time I finally start working on it.” She snorted, another first for Benny to see. “I can’t have people thinking I’m boring, after all.”
Carol said she was sorry.
“But I get that coming from me that might not mean much. So here’s some effort to hopefully help my image.” She pulled a picture from her purse and handed it to Benny. “I don't know if you have a copy of this or not, but I found it in my mom's old book club boxes and thought you might want it.”
Benny had done a good job of not crying in public for the last three weeks.
Behind closed doors, maybe not so much, but in public?
He’d done a good job of keeping his emotions pounding within his chest.
Now?
Tears instantly rimmed Benny's eyes.
He had never seen the picture before.
The people inside of it, though, were easy to recognize.
“It's me and my mom.”
Young Stella De Carlo was caught mid-laugh as a younger Benny stood next to her, both on the lip of the Robertson fountain. She was holding his hand and Benny was smiling.
“I-I don’t have any pictures like this,” he stammered out. “One where she’s laughing. She—she didn’t like her picture being taken.”
It wasn’t open like her brother’s bright and wide smile, but Carol’s small upturn of the lips seemed genuine.
“I looked through every box and photo album throughout the years to see if there were any more, but that's the only one I found of her. Mom said she might have some in her office and that she'd look—”
Benny, apparently a hugger now, wrapped his arms around Carol before she could finish the thought.
“Thank you.”
Carol stiffened at the contact.
But she didn’t pull away.
“This is the part of people that sometimes makes my skin prickle,” she muttered. Though, the words weren’t unkind.
Benny pulled back and laughed.
Carol cleared her throat and readjusted the purse on her shoulder.
“Okay, I’m assuming you’ve accepted my token of apology, so now that the mushy stuff is done, I think it's time I take you to the other room now.”
She grabbed his hand, manicure and all, and pulled Benny through his carousel of emotions and confusion and right into the reception room.
Benny thought he was confused before.
Now, he was downright lost.
The dance floor from before was gone, along with the equipment, but now the lights were back on with two speakers set up at the corners of the small stage that had been used for speeches. The chairs that had already been put up were back out too, this time in two short rows facing the stage.
In those chairs sat Ms. Peggy, Justus and his mother, Felicity, Ethan, Dixon, and Santana.
Carol pulled him past the chairs to the stage itself. Ethan took her place and led him to a single chair in its center.
“What the—?” Benny started, but Ethan hushed him.
“This is one of the rare moments where I think you’ll want to just listen for a bit.”
He seated him and returned to the audience.
Callum came out next. He was grinning.
“You missed the pageant, but it was only fair you get to see this performance. And don't worry, I'm definitely going to record this.”
“Record what?”
Benny watched, confused, as his brother also ran back to one of the chairs in the audience. Marcus and Carol took their seats.
For a moment, Benny just sat there, wide-eyed and staring at a collection of people who shouldn’t have been there staring right on back.
But then, something happened.
They all started making noise.
From a focused Justus to an extremely excited Ethan, they all just started...
Singing.
“Turn around…”
“Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming 'round.”
Benny whirled around as a new voice came through the speakers.
Jack, his personal rain cloud, walked onto the stage, microphone in hand.
“Turn around…” the crowd sang.
“Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears,” Jack soloed.
He wasn’t just singing either.
He was dressed up too.
In a costume, no less. The one that would have been worn for the talent portion of the pageant. Open sequin jacket, nipples bare, shorts with a starfish over a very impressive part, and an insane amount of body glitter.
Jack stalked toward Benny, an expression that still was as serious as if he was wearing his usual bar attire.
He sang, their friends sang back-up, and Benny?
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say.
But he did know how to feel.
Jack danced up to him, still singing, and landed next to him by the time the chorus came. He dropped down to his knees, his shorts doing God’s work, and grabbed Benny’s hand just as everyone started singing at the top of their lungs.
Jack probably hated it.
But he delivered all the same.
“And I need you noooow tonight. And I need you more than ever. And if you only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever.”
The crowd continued, the music swelling, but Jack moved the microphone down so his words to him didn't come through the speaker with them this time.
“I hate this, but I think I love you, so I’ll keep singing as long as you want,” he said, words as fast as Benny’s usually were.
“I was a fool, sweet cheeks. I'm ready to talk about our future.
Whether that's here in Nashville or back in Arbor Bay or on Mars, I don't care.
I just want to be with you. So let me show you by singing this next part of this dumb song really badly so you can see that I-I really need you tonight!
Forever's gonna start tonight! Forever's gonna start tonight!”
Benny’s own bartender gave him a special he knew was only ever going to be on his menu. Jack sang loudly, badly, and with the backing of singers who were mostly off-pitch.
But Benny couldn’t let him finish.
He jumped up, threw his arms around his new every day, and kissed the man for all he was worth.
In a room already filled with noise, the crowd still went wild.