Page 116 of The Bartender Special

Ms. Peggy hadn’t been mad, but she had been vocal.

“What do you mean some people don’t like knowing that nipples are there?” she’d yelled back. “Nipples are part of God’s plan and if anyone has a problem with that then they need to go to church and talk about it!”

Cotton hadn’t had a comeback to that, but his friend had pointed out that not all nipples were created equal and some might make people feel a certain which way.

Jack, who’d been standing on stage for the beginning talks about the nipple conundrum, had been about to defend his own when Callum had spoken up first.

“I’m not about to nipple shame anyone, but I’ve gotta say, I think Jack’s are mighty fine. If they make anyone feel any certain way I’d have to think that it wouldn’t be a bad feeling. Am I right?”

He’d given the question to Ethan, who had at that point adopted a stern expression.

“Objectively speaking, I think Jack’s nipples are pretty good looking,” he’d decided. “Not too big, not too small, but somehow not generic either? Kind of like they have their own personality.”

Someone had scoffed at that.

“How can nipples have their own personality?” another man Jack hadn’t recognized asked. “They’re nipples.”

“No, like, I get what Ethan is saying,” Dixon had swooped in. “Like, I could pick Jack’s nipples out of a line up now if I needed to. And not, like, in a bad way.”

An unsettling silence had quickly washed over the crowd at that.

It was unsettling because Jack had known in that moment that everyone was taking another look at said nipples.

Even Benny could be seen eyeing them with a new vested interest from his spot next to the bar.

Finally, Cotton—the original nipple questioner—had relented.

“I guess I’d pick the outfit before this one then,” he’d called out. “The one with the open sequin jacket thing. Maybe with the tail too.”

The rest of the patrons had eventually agreed that nips out was the call. The tail, however, was only heavily favored until Jack walked out sporting short black spandex shorts with a starfish patch sewn over the crotch.

No one had cared about his nipples then.

Instead, Dewey had been the one to call out a question.

“Damn, Jack, what’s your leg routine?”

The bar had decided sometime after that on three outfits, each one with nipples out and legs highlighted.

Jack took the conversations as constructive. When he caught Benny checking out his starfish as he walked past him back to the office, he decided he’d take that response in particular as a compliment.

The last outfit Jack came out wearing garnered a soft few boos.

It was his normal T-shirt—which fully covered his nipples—and jeans. The glitter, though he’d tried his damnedest in the bathroom, still spread boldly across his face.

Benny ushered him back on stage to say a few words of thanks.

Jack was pleasantly surprised to see that only one of their regulars—who’d had to relieve her babysitter—had left since their whole hot mess fashion show had started.

In fact, most patrons were still laughing and chatting as he took to the stage, he hoped, for the last time that night.

“Well, thanks for objectifying me tonight for a good cause. Even if I never get the King of Arbor Bay title, I hope I’ll at least make Cassidy’s proud.” Jack caught Santana making a phone motion with her hand. He smirked. “And while this is the end of my non-generic nipple show, I’ve been asked to request a group selfie to post on our socials. You know, to prove that whatever blackmail pictures you took tonight of me were, in fact, authentic.”

“Cheers to that,” someone yelled.

Laughter filled the room, chairs scraped, and regulars, newcomers, and supporters of both gathered around the stage and Jack for a picture. Dewey had a trident, Ethan had on the wig, and Ms. Peggy had a pint glass in each hand.

Jack hadn’t realized it, but he’d made a space at his side for Benny to run into as soon as he’d set the camera timer.