Page 22 of The Bartender Special

“If anyone finds out I lied or am lying about you, about the blog…then I think I’ll lose more than I ever had to gain from it. I don’t know if I can take that risk any farther. But also, now Carol has Caroled and I can’t see a way out of this. Not without me looking pathetic.”

Benny dropped to the edge of his bed.

Jack kept standing.

“Then don't come clean,” he said simply. “Let’s commit to it instead. Make them believe it. Starting with getting ready so I can come back and pick you up in about an hour and a half.”

A hand—big and warm and heavy—landed on Benny’s shoulder.

“Dress light. She said something about a garden party.”

Benny barely had time to get a “huh” out before Jack left the room. Only after he was gone did Benny process the last thing he said.

“Looks like our first date is going to be in the belly of the beast, sweet cheeks.”

FIVE

“Hell's bells, Jack. This is a shit plan and you know it.”

Dixon was sprawled out across their apartment's couch with a dead-on impression of his father across his face. Heavy judgment, slight detachment, ever-present hunger. Despite his disapproval, he snaked a hand out and grabbed the last of the tortilla chips on the coffee table.

Jack was in the kitchen, sucking down a bottle of water. The heat index was already 98 degrees, and the humidity was becoming heavier by the minute. All the walking to and from Benny's place had drenched him thoroughly. The cool shower had been refreshing, but he’d been thirsty since he’d left his bad idea fussing in his bedroom. Jack was pretty sure he could suck down the entire bay right now if given the chance.

“It's not that big of a deal,” he said after he came up for air. “We'll have lunch, smile, take a few pictures, and then get out of there when we're done. After that? Just rinse and repeat until Benny goes back home. Easy peasy.”

Dixon shook his head and pointed a chip at him.

“I'm not talking about this fake relationship BS. I'm talking about going to this fancy schmancy lunch thing when you know damn well that Felicity is going to be there.” He jabbed the chip in Jack's direction. “You might be fake dating Benny, but Felicity is real engaged to Marcus. You eating little sandwiches and snails and drinking champagne with them isn't going to change those facts.”

Jack had known he was going to get flak from his cousin about the arrangement he'd made with Benny, but him being grumpy over Felicity's presence hadn't crossed his mind. Then again, Dixon had never been a big fan when it came to the absolute stunner of a woman.

“I liked Calvin better,” he’d muttered after Jack had become official with Felicity. When she left him three years later, Dixon hadn’t tried to cover his feelings then either.

“Calvin at least had the decency to pretend to like the bar,” he’d muttered, once again.

Unwilling to face his cousin’s current concerns, Jack was sidestepping the most.

“Escargot,” he corrected.

Dixon narrowed his eyes.

“What did you call me?”

Jack rolled his.

“You know that's what the snail dish is called. Escargot. And I don't think that's what they're going to serve at lunch and I don’t think it’s a big deal, snails or no snails.”

Dixon diverted his attention back to his food.

“Whatever, you say Boss. Point is, the situation ain't changing. This arrangement doesn’t give you anything other than a weirdly specific reason to turn into the mopey, heartbroken Jack we all love but secretly hate.” He crunched another chip but spoke around it, “I don't know about you, but I don't know if I can handle him again.”

Jack let out a long sigh.

“I wasn't that bad,” he said.

Dixon snorted.

They both knew that was a lie.