Page 35 of Endless Summer: Stories
Shooter struggles to sit up. His mouth is dry, his ears are ringing. Benji, here. How did he find them? Well, it wouldn’t have been hard. Benji knows the handful of places that Shooter frequents; all he would have had to do was make a few phone calls.
Shooter looks to his left. Celeste is gone. Her book is splayed open on her chaise.
“Here,” Benji says. He hands one of the two beers he’s holding to Shooter.
“Thanks?” Shooter says. He swings his feet to the ground, sets the beer down for a second, and pulls on his shirt. He’s completely unprepared for this confrontation. But he knew it would come eventually, didn’t he? He stole his best friend’s girl. He broke up the perfect couple. “Benji, listen, I’m—”
“Don’t apologize,” Benji says.
Right,Shooter thinks. This isn’t something that can beapologizedaway. Shooter has betrayed a fifteen-year friendship. What will settle it, then? A fistfight? No. This is Benjamin Winbury. Will Benji go up to the concierge floor and tell Frank that Shooter Uxley is a backstabbing Benedict Arnold? No chance of that. Whatever is going to happen will be private and deeply painful.
But wait,Shooter thinks as he picks up his beer and takes a long, cold swallow. What if itdidn’thappen that way?
“You actually did me a favor,” Benji says.
“I did?” Shooter says.
“Celeste and I are so different,” Benji says. “Different worlds and all that.”
“Right,” Shooter says. “But I thought that didn’t matter? I thought you loved her?”
“Oh, I do love her,” Benji says. “But loving someone doesn’t bring automatic happiness. In fact, it can bring quite the opposite. When Celeste and I were together, I always felt like there was a part of her I wasn’t reaching, a part she was holding back. And you know, practically better than anyone, that I’m a giver and a pleaser and a fixer… so life with a woman I couldn’t make blissfully happy would have been torture for me.” Benji takes a swig of his beer and Shooter studies his friend’s face, trying to determine if Benji is kidding or being sarcastic. “I had a long talk with Reverend Derby and I think I’ve come to terms with this.”
Come to terms with this?Shooter thinks. In only three days? Reverend Derby? The only thing Reverend Derby has been good for up to now has been giving the blessing before meals. Did he really lead Benji through the necessary soul-searching to reach this place of placid acceptance?
Shooter narrows his eyes. “So what are you going to do?”
Benji sighs. “Honestly? I’ll probably get back together with Jules.”
“Jules?” Shooter says. He fights to keep his tone neutral, but inside he’s shouting:No, man! Do not get back together with that miserable, shallow woman!The thought of Benji resorting to a life with Jules Briar makes Shooter feel fresh regret about what he’s done.
“I guess her friend Laney saw you and Celeste standing in line for pizza Friday night,” Benji says. “And Jules texted me to say that if I was having second thoughts, she was still in love with me. She said Miranda still asks for me every night at bedtime.”
Shooter nods. Laney was the one who took the picture, then, he thinks. And Jules was the one who texted it to him, he’s sure. She could tell, probably just from the look on his face, what the story was. Which is pretty intuitive for Jules; he has to give her credit. “What did your parents say?” Shooter asks. What he’s really asking is:What did Greer say?Shooter doesn’t give two shits about Tag’s opinion.
“Well, you know how my mother feels about Jules,” Benji says. “When she finds out we’re back together, she’ll make Jules the villainess in her next book.”
“What did she say about me?” Shooter asks. “And Celeste?”
“She said she totally understands,” Benji says. “She said she would have left me for you if she were Celeste.”
“She didnotsay that,” Shooter says.
Benji laughs. “No. But I could tell she was thinking it.”
Shooter finishes his beer. He can’t believe this is happening. He can’t believe Benji is being so incredibly cool about this. He really is a prince. Actual royalty in the friend department. But his magnanimity makes Shooter feel like even more of a louse. Maybe that’s the point?
“Let me buy the next round,” Shooter says. “We can switch to vodka, if you want.”
“No, thanks,” Benji says. “I should go before Celeste gets back.” He stands and then Shooter stands and looks around the pool at the other hotel guests, lounging in the sun, reading their books, or listening to music, completely oblivious to the incredible thing happening at the southwest corner of the pool. “I only came to clear the air with you. I figured you’d be feeling bad and I didn’t want that to ruin things between us. It might take a little longer for Celeste to accept that there are no hard feelings. I get it. Love is a mystery. And not the kind of mystery that has a neat ending, like a Greer Garrison novel.” He reaches out to embrace Shooter. “You deserve this. Just promise me you’ll take good care of her. If I find out otherwise, I’m hiring a hit man, you hear me? Be true to her.”
Shooter surprises himself by getting choked up. “I will.”
Benji is gone by the time Celeste gets back.
“I went to the room to call Merritt and let her know what happened,” she says. “She’s my best friend and I couldn’t just have her not knowing. I hope you aren’t angry.”
Shooter considers telling Celeste about Benji appearing out of nowhere, but he decides she would never believe it.
