Chapter Four #2
The server came back with his refill, and Elliot said, “Thanks,” without looking. He set the phone down and picked up his sandwich.
The phone buzzed and he leaned over to check it. Reef.
yeah. shit’s been all over X for weeks. Crazy. if I’d known he was a fag I woulda hit him harder on the ice lol
Elliot went numb. He stared through the words as some combination of shock and confusion and nausea sank through him.
Reef said things like that. Reef had always said things like that. Elliot felt like he’d never actually heard it before.
He sent back 100, and locked the phone. He stared at the sun on the blinding tablecloth for a long time. Then he finished his cocktail.
The phone buzzed.
Elliot kept his eyes shut and swung his hand at the nightstand to find it. He held it in front of his face and cracked one eye open to read the text.
You seen this? And a link to the Vanity Fair thing.
It was Bennet. Elliot sighed and lowered the phone. The room was dark – he had the blackouts pulled across. He hadn’t been able to eat the panini at lunch and he regretted it now. He was fucking starving.
He lifted the phone. Yeah. Weird shit.
Three dots. I don’t know how I missed this. I guess I was focused on rehab. Or maybe the story’s just getting more traction
Elliot pursed his lips and didn’t know how to respond. Why was Bennet texting him?
A long minute passed and then the phone buzzed again. Thanks for giving me the gym today, said Bennet. Then: You up to anything tonight?
Elliot narrowed his eyes and read this three times before sending, why
Three dots. There’s a bar at the north end that might be more your speed than Pineapple.
Bennet wanted to to hang out? Again, Elliot sent, why
Three dots. Then nothing. Then three dots. Look amigo, I’m trying to be the bigger man here. If you’re really gonna be in my gym all goddamn summer then maybe we need to practice being in the same room
Elliot scoffed. Bigger man? Older man, maybe. He sat up and went to the window and pulled back the curtains; the afternoon sun hit him like an open-ice check.
Squinting, he looked down at the phone and sent, its two in the afternoon you wanna start drinking now dog?
I said TONIGHT, idiot
Elliot scowled at Bennet’s previous message. He had said that.
fine, he sent back. when
A long moment before Bennet sent back: seven?
The bar Dustin sent a pin to was called Bernie’s, and it was too far from the hotel to walk.
Elliot Ubered there and was deposited outside a place with a Budweiser poster in the window, and the door propped open with a cinder block to let vape smoke and a bass line from 2009 drift out onto the sidewalk.
He stepped inside and immediately liked it more than Pineapple: dark as shit, booths on the left, two pool tables in the back. It reminded him of the place in Miami where Uncle Sal used to take him when he visited.
Dustin was at the back between the pool tables, in the leather jacket and black t-shirt.
The beard was less immaculately groomed tonight.
Elliot returned his nod of greeting and started threading through the room.
He’d managed to take a nap, and woke up feeling a lot better.
A lot more rational about the Webb and Arsenault thing, anyway.
It was an app on his phone, years ago. Webb probably didn’t even remember.
Anyway, what did it matter? It wasn’t like Elliot was–
“Place doesn’t feel like a fucking airport, at least,” he said when he got there.
“Figured the brewery was too sophisticated for you,” Bennet replied, and sipped his beer.
He looked Elliot briefly up and down. Elliot had on his expensive sneakers, tightest black jeans, and a linen button-down with a floral print that a guy like Bennet could never pull off.
He’d left the two top buttons open to show the chain with the cross around his neck.
“Least you know how to dress yourself,” said Bennet.
“How much cologne do you put on before a night out, would you say? Two, three liters?”
“They got food here?” Elliot said, ignoring this.
“Nope. There’s a popcorn machine by the bathrooms, though.”
Great. Sighing, Elliot went to the bar.
He squeezed up to the rail and smiled at the girl he found beside him. She smiled back, and he reflexively sized her up. Black, shorter than him, chubby in a cute way. Low-cut top. Diego would like her. His eyes returned to hers, and she smiled and turned away to talk to the girl behind her.
The bartender didn’t even ask for his ID. Elliot opened a tab and took his beer back to Bennet.
“Who’s your friend?” said Dustin.
Elliot looked over his shoulder at the bar. “The fuck you talking about? I didn’t say two words to her.”
“Right. You just stared down her top. Are you aware you do that? And that it’s really fucking obvious that you’re doing it?”
Elliot said nothing and took a long pull on his beer. The song changed, and over the thumping bass and bar noise, Bennet said, “That Arsenault thing, huh?”
Elliot felt his spine go rigid. He swallowed the beer. “Yeah.”
“Kinda makes you wonder how many other guys there are like that in the league.” Dustin indicated the pool table. “You want a game?”
Elliot lifted a shoulder. “Long as you’re ready to get your ass whipped.”
Dustin racked the balls.
The girl at the bar was watching as he did, and as Dustin went to the wall to hang the triangle up, she nudged her friend and indicated Elliot. Elliot returned her smile.
“Tell her to come over.” A cue appeared as Bennet put it in front of him. “Maybe she’d like to give you another look at her tits.”
Elliot snatched the cue, and Dustin did a smug little grin as he rolled the white ball to the other end of the felt. Checking out girls was what bars were for. If Bennet wasn’t here for that, then what was he doing? Actually playing pool?
Oh shit, did he know how to play?
“Sounds like you’re ready for that rematch,” said Elliot. Dustin frowned and he added, “With the girls? It’s a tie game. You said we should do it again sometime.”
It wasn’t actually a tie game: Elliot hadn’t slept with Leah. But Bennet didn’t need to know that.
Dustin smirked as he stilled the white ball with one finger, and bent flat to study the angle. “Any time you like,” he said, and flicked his eyes up.
His eyes were blue, not gray like Elliot had thought, and the leather jacket and t-shirt reminded him of someone. Who was the guy in the movie his mom liked with the cowboys? Heath something. Legend?
Yeah. Heath Legend. The hot one.
Elliot’s stomach went sideways.
He gulped his beer – too much, way too much – and put his fist to his sternum where it got stuck. “Anytime I like?” he choked. “Great, how bout now?”
Bennet rolled his eyes. “I was kidding.”
“Okay, I wasn’t.” He set his glass down too hard on the high top. “And I know you don’t wanna leave it tied.”
Bennet turned his attention back to the cue ball, but Elliot could see he was thinking about it. “Tell you what,” he said, as he nudged the ball, then straightened. “Why don’t we make it best out of three?”
Elliot barked a laugh. Too loud. “O-ho. Okay, player. You didn’t even want me in your gym, now you wanna go on another date after this?”
Dustin gave him a bemused frown, and Elliot turned away quickly and picked up his beer. He swigged from it and lifted his voice to the girl at the bar, turning on the Puerto Rican. “Hey, Mami. I see you lookin. Why don’t you bring your friend over?”
“What is that accent?” said Dustin.
Elliot clicked his tongue and ignored him.
The girl turned to her friend, and the friend gave Elliot an up and down, and they did the thing where they giggled and pretended they weren’t gonna come. The friend was a little skinnier, hair in braids.
“Yeah, you know you’re coming over,” Elliot called. “What are you drinking? My friend has next round.”
Dustin shot him a look.
One of the girls covered her mouth to whisper something to the other, and Elliot muttered to Bennet, “Mine’s the little fat one, and if you step on my game like last time, I’ll lay you on the fucking ground.”
Bennet laughed. “Okay, little man.”
“The fuck you do that for, anyway?” Elliot looked at him. “You knew I was working on Katie.”
Dustin stroked his beard. “You know, I couldn’t tell you. I think I just wanted to piss you off.”
The girls came over.
The one with the tits was Dreya, her friend with the braids was Simone. They had thick eyelashes and lips sticky with gloss, and they were already tipsy, which Elliot assured them would be no problem, because he was having beer for dinner, and they may have to carry him home. That got a laugh.
He flashed his most charming smile as he picked up the chalk and ground it onto the tip of his cue. He had no idea what the chalk was for, but people seemed to use it.
“You play pool?” he asked them.
Dreya laughed and Simone shook her head, wrapping her lips around her cocktail straw.
“That’s okay, neither does he,” called Bennet, from where he’d posted up on the wall with his arms folded and cue propped beside him.
Elliot winked at Dreya. “He doesn’t know, he’s never even played me.” Dustin scoffed, and Elliot added, “In Puerto Rico, we say, ‘No tiene babilla.’”
Dreya put her ass on the pool table and used her tongue to get her straw in her mouth. “And what is that?”
“Means he don’t have the stones.”
“Aw.” She pouted at Dustin. “Is that true?”
Dustin kicked off the wall, looking pissed, and snatched up his cue. He chalked it as he went to the table. “Eight ball. Loser gets next round.”
Elliot did a swift count of the balls Bennet had racked. There were, like…way more than eight of them. He winked at Dreya again to cover the fact that he had no idea what Dustin was talking about. “Sounds good. You wanna go doubles?”
Dreya shook her head, sipping her cocktail. “Why don’t you win me a round first, Papi?”
“Ohh!” Elliot sketched a little bow to get out of the way as she got off the table and flounced past him. “She knows the language.”