Page 1 of The Bartender Special

ONE

“I'm going to have to move to Antarctica.”

Benny De Carlo was staring at his computer screen, trying to run the numbers on how fast he could buy a plane ticket, pack a bag, and disappear into the icy tundra.

“It's not that bad.”

Ethan Castings was lying. Just sitting there staring at his computer screen and l-y-i-n-g. If he hadn't been Benny's best friend for most of his twenty-six years of life, Benny might have thrown something at him. Instead, he used his words.

“It's not that good, either. You did read that, right? You do understand the situation? The reason why I should invest in several parkas and get the hell out of dodge?”

Ethan was a cool, cool customer. In fifth grade, he'd eaten an entire jalapeño on a dare without so much as flinching, while Benny had run for the water fountain after just smelling it. Ethan was like that. Level-headed, with not-moving-to-Antarctica sensibilities. Even now, faced with a situation neither of them had ever dreamed about, with Benny trying not to throw up, Ethan was acting like the world wasn't ending.

The audacity.

“Your super-secret, highly personal blog went viral after you drunkenly decided to make it public, and now everyone wants to talk to you about it,” Ethan stated. “That's the long and short of it.”

“The long and short of it?” Benny's voice cracked. “Ethan. I need you to hear what I'm about to say. To really hear it. To feel it. Okay?”

Ethan’s steel-gray gaze swept over to what Benny could only assume was his own very frantic dark one.

“The stupid little blog I've been using as a journal on DearMe since I was seventeen is trending on every platform, and not even for the really embarrassing and awkward posts about losing my virginity or the time I had to climb out of my date's bathroom window because I couldn't face him after the world's worst first kiss.” Benny put his hands down on the desk and looked pointedly at the monitor. “No, everyone is focusing on one thing. One thing I never, ever, ever wanted to talk about. Not even with you or Callum.” He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the defeat deflate his shoulders. “They want to know who 'Guy' is and why I was too chicken to ever tell him I was in love with him.”

Saying it out loud, again, made Benny's panic grow in strength. He wilted down in contrast until he was lying on a rug that was designed to look like a little city. Who cared that it was the floor of a kindergarten classroom? Who cared that it probably housed every kind of germ known to man? Who cared that Benny looked like one of the little kids after a tantrum, depleted of all energy and sanity?

Benny didn't.

Not right now.

Maybe not ever again.

The sound of squeaking chair wheels preceded the soft scuff of sneakers. Benny opened his eyes. Ethan was staring down at him. He had the decency to at least look concerned.

“Okay, putting aside a few facts—like you were the one, drunk or not, who had the bad sense to change the settings from private to definitely not private—I have to point out a few things you're taking for granted.” He listed each point off on his fingers, some of which were covered in paint and glitter. Even when Ethan wasn't prepping for the annual Sailors and Mermaids Festival, he always seemed to be covered in the stuff. A hazard of being surrounded by tiny humans all day, no doubt.

“One, most people nowadays do tons of out-there stuff just for the chance to have something of theirs go viral,” he started. “Yelling on airplanes, taking ladders into movie theaters, uploading twenty-part videos of them talking about how their spouse was cheating on them with their cousin… All you had to do was drink way too much rosé, change a setting, and go to sleep.” Benny cringed at the mention of rosé. The bottle that had done him in had been a gift. A gift that had transformed into one heck of a hangover curse. The betrayal still ran deep. “Two, not only is your blog trending, but it's trending for good reasons. The internet sees your awkward, hot-mess life and has deemed it relatable and charming. They like you, see themselves in you, and want more. Which brings me to numero tres.”

Ethan motioned to the monitor and the email Benny had pulled up on its screen. The same email that had pulled him from sulking on his brother's couch all the way to Arbor Bay Academy’s germ-ridden rug. He'd only been lucky that the timing had worked out so the kids had already left for the day.

Not that it would have mattered. Benny was so stressed, he would have included everyone, kindergarteners and teacher alike, in his freak out.

“It isn't just bored people scrolling on their phones or teenagers glued to screens who want more. You have a legitimate literary agent who thinks she can turn The One Who Said Nothing into a book. A book. I mean, I can't even fathom that. That's big news, Benny.”

“But there's a catch.”

Ethan nodded, three fingers still in the air.

“Yes. For the chance at a new, exciting life as an author, there's a small catch. You have to get closure.” He put up one more finger, but his expression softened. “You have to finally tell Guy that you used to be in love with him but didn't have the nerve to admit it. Then? Write it and move on. Right into a book deal.”

“You make it all sound so easy.”

“It is,” Ethan pointed out. “That agent lady just wants you to finish the story. She wants you to give your audience and potential future readers closure. I get that.” Ethan shrugged. “Sure, maybe it'll be a little embarrassing, but it could also be therapeutic.”

Benny threw his arm over his eyes, dramatic as hell, and groaned.

“You just want me to take the agent's deal so you can find out who he is!”

Ethan didn't deny it.