Forty-Five
B
Edward warned me that Ben was a terrible flirt but that he had a great heart.
He's handsome and charismatic. Short and built like a linebacker, reminding me of a cocky, pocket-sized Emmett. With icy blue eyes and an easy smile, I can see why Edward thinks his friend is a proud ladies' man.
But the second I met the infamous Ben Cheney, I could tell something was off. It's nothing bad; I just can't put my finger on it.
Yesterday was my first training session, learning bottle tricks, and it's certainly not as easy as the videos on YouTube made it seem. I'll just say Ben was smart to fill the liquor bottles with water because there was a lot of broken glass after the hour-long session. We'll be using plastic from now on.
Harry and Waylon were all too happy to watch me make an ass out of myself in front of my boyfriend and a complete stranger. I'm more than happy to leave the tricks to Ben tonight.
We're busier than usual. Ben's well known in Seattle and posted that he's doing a stint at Rebar. Apparently, he's popular on social media because a lot of people, mainly girls, are here to see him.
He eats up the attention but is actually an efficient bartender. Even if there are dozens of phone numbers in the tip jar.
"Hey, Bella," Angela, our new bar back, calls as she passes by with a loaded tray.
She and her wife, Lauren, are nurses for a local OB-GYN, moonlighting as a bar back and dishwasher so they can save up and buy a house. They're both cool but polar opposites.
Angela has a lot of piercings and tattoos and wears mostly black while her wife is quiet, calmer, and favors lighter, pastel colors. Opposites attract, I suppose. They're both sweet and funny, and it's nice to have girls around here, even if we now outnumber the boys.
"What's up?" I ask while I finish pouring a couple shots.
She blows some hair out of her face and smiles. "I'll divorce my wife and steal you away from Edward if you make me a club soda with a splash of cranberry juice."
"Get in line, Ang," Ben calls over the noise.
I just laugh and roll my eyes. "I'm flattered, really, but there's no need for that. I'll make your drink."
"Can't say I didn't try." She shrugs and disappears into the kitchen.
"When you're done with that, do you think you can watch the bar while I hit the head?" Ben asks, slinging a dish towel over his broad shoulder.
"Sure." I set Angela's drink to the side and tell him to go ahead.
While he's gone, Edward comes sauntering out of the office. "How's it going, baby?"
"Great. We're super busy though. We could use a hand if you're done playing World of Warcraft."
He throws his head back and laughs. "I'm more of a Grand Theft Auto man, but I wasn't sitting around stealing cars." He takes an order and turns to me. "I was filling out the paperwork for your health insurance."
He tells me everything is ready and that I just need to sign some things and my benefits will start on the first of the month.
Ben's fans are excited when he returns from the bathroom, and he's getting a lot of attention, but I manage to pull my own weight.
There are plenty of people who just want their drinks without all the fanfair.
Edward moseys around, checking in with customers to make sure everyone is having a good time and helping where he's needed.
The hours pass without incident and things run as smooth as butter, but by last call, we're all exhausted and ready to close up shop.
I'm still recovering from being sick and get tired fast, so I pull a stool up to the cash register and work on imputing credit card tips while everyone else does the grunt work.
Edward divvies up the contents of the tip jar and waits for me to give him the total credit card tips.
We usually bank on a Friday night, but with Ben here and the business he brought in, we made three times as much in tips. Split between the two of us, I just made my rent and electric bill in one night. And that's after I've tipped out Angela and Lauren.
A girl could definitely get used to this.
I'm stuffing my wad of cash in my wallet when Angela asks Ben what he plans on doing with the stack of phone numbers he collected tonight.
"Same thing I do every night." He winks and grabs a trash can, sweeping the pile into the bucket with a satisfied smile.
Despite my reservations I had when Edward disclosed that he'd hired help, I have to say it's pretty nice to walk out the door thirty minutes after closing. Even on a good night, it would easily take an hour if not more to get out.
The girls offer to give Ben a ride to his place, but he waves them off. "I'm actually meeting up with a friend, but thanks."
He pulls on his leather jacket and walks up the block, mashing buttons on his phone.
Edward opens my door for me and gestures for me to get in. "Your place or mine, baby?" he asks when he joins me.
"Rose is having Emmett over for the weekend, and I'd rather not listen to them go at it like monkeys. Your place, please."
He chuckles and braids his fingers with mine, our joined hands rest on my bare thigh.
"Have I told you how sexy you look tonight?"
"Hmm. I don't recall."
We come to a stoplight, and Edward turns to me with a knowing smirk. His green eyes are dark and hooded, and his tongue peeks out, wetting his bottom lip.
"Well, I'm saying it now." He squeezes my fingers. "You look so fucking sexy. I had a hard time keeping my hands off you all night."
"Well"—I sigh—"it's a good thing you're taking me home. You won't have to keep your hands to yourself. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't."
"Bella."
A honk interrupts the moment, and I jump, clutching my racing heart. We look up to find that the light has turned green.
Edward waves to the car behind us and hits the gas. As we're headed to his house, a couple standing at a crosswalk catches my eye. I squint, recognizing the shorter male as he leans up on his tiptoes to peck his partner's lips.
I gasp because it all makes sense now. The fuckboy façade and all the misleading flirting. Trashing the slips of papers with desperate girls' numbers.
He doesn't need them after all. I knew something was off. My gaydar is obviously on the fritz.
Ben is gay.