[Recollé] Telenovela Ep1: Tony y Jack
It couldn't be said Tony had ever been Jack's biggest fan. No, not the fondest of the guy. Downright animosity came to mind as a good descriptor. But he'd made...not nice, he was bad at nice, but he'd kept the more choice words in his mind and his hands in his pockets instead of arranged into fists planted in Jack's smug face.
All for Sofia's sake. Every last bit of it. She loved the guy. What more could he do for a friend who'd gotten him through some of his darker times than be supportive? If his feelings for her strayed a little deeper all the more reason to shut up and stick it out for her.
That wasn't Sofia at his door now though. Jack wasn't looking too hot and something about that put Tony on edge. He didn't move aside to let the other man in. "Looking for something? Hooters is right around the corner. They've got a great brunch line up."
Hi Jack. Nice to see you. Or not.
All for Sofia's sake. Every last bit of it. She loved the guy. What more could he do for a friend who'd gotten him through some of his darker times than be supportive? If his feelings for her strayed a little deeper all the more reason to shut up and stick it out for her.
That wasn't Sofia at his door now though. Jack wasn't looking too hot and something about that put Tony on edge. He didn't move aside to let the other man in. "Looking for something? Hooters is right around the corner. They've got a great brunch line up."
Hi Jack. Nice to see you. Or not.
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This isn't the cute meeting story they've given out before, because her wanting to make people look better than they actually were seems to have been a pattern - it isn't oh, I had too many groceries and Jack was sweet enough to help. Jack tuts, leans further back into the counter.
"I got in the way. Got the fuck beat out of me. When the cops came, she hid my knife and covered for me. When she showed up at the hospital, I told her to go away. 'Get the fuck out of here, you think I'm some kinda great guy? You think I'm your boyfriend now? Are you stupid?' And you know what she says?"
Jack sets a hand on his hip and cocks it, jabbing a finger like she did whenever she was telling someone off.
"'Shut the hell up and eat your sandwich.' And she threw a hot ham-and-cheese at my head." His pose goes back to normal, arms crossed tenderly over his chest. "Hell of a woman. So if you guys thought I got her drunk and seduced her or something, sorry to say it, but she chased me."
For weeks. Made sure he didn't die of infection. Made sure he'd eaten. Found out he lived in his car and brought him blankets. Little shit that Jack assumes Tony would never understand the importance of, given he also assumes that Tony's childhood was decent, stuff that he whined and whined about but never turned down. What's a good way to say nobody ever cared about me before and not sound ridiculous and pathetic? The first time she kissed me was after I told her she made me want to stay alive?
He wishes he had his jacket back.
"She wasn't a kid, Tony." Maybe saying his name will help. Maybe it'll just piss him off. When he'd said do you want to talk about it, Jack hadn't expected it to actually help. He's not any less miserable or empty, but at least he's found his footing again, and now he holds his head up and speaks surely. "I was a pretty goddamn bad decision, but you know what? I think she was kinda glad I let her make it by herself."
Now that is a jab. Sorry, pal.
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Apparently they're having it out and now it's Tony's turn to pace. Angry, tight back and forths from the couch to the front door that hint at something wild every time he turns. It's not that he thinks there's any point to this. In Jack's eyes he'll never have been the "bad guy". There'll always be an excuse for why it was anyone's fault, but his. Rip away one he'll just invent five more. This is just pointless rhetoric. But Tony's hurt and he's angry and Jack keeps piling on all these criminal charges like he's the underdog in Miss America pageant. Maybe he might not be the cutest thug on the stage, but he's got a "great personality", folks. Because Tony for certain wants to know this is the type of monster his best friend chose: a man who should be behind bars making license plates, not wandering the streets.
"When her grandpa was dying of cancer? Where were you? Taking her out to parties? I sat in his hospice room every Monday for months. Had a full ride to Yale, but she needed someone to help her get out of that house and independent. So I went local. You made a few choices not to break the law and you think that's comparable?" His hands open, clench, open again, close again. He locks them behind his back, a trick to hide weakness he learned in private school. Always keep that composure. Let them see you're emotionally unraveling and you're an animal.
"Maybe being with you made her happy, but neither of you ever gave a damn about how it hurt the rest of us." He comes to an abrupt stop and that's it, isn't it. He can still remember the arguments. About the drugs, about the drinking, about shady parties and Jack's even shadier friends. Sofia always laughing him off. Giving him Looks to keep him from riding Jack too much about shaping up. It was just one neverending Lover's Lane for them. Jack keeps harping on how it was Sofia's choice, but he just doesn't get it.
Sofia never did either, always telling him he should cut his parents off. Stop answering their calls, walk away, leave 'em. That's not how it works. People don't just exist in a vacuum. Your actions have effects on everyone around you. And sometimes, to protect those people, do right by them, you have to go with the choices you might not want. Not something Jack could ever understand, Tony is sure. That's not the "fun" option.
He looks away. Fun's over. He's not doing this with Jack. Things are...what they are. As such— "You can stay until the end of the week. I've got a deadline to meet. Ghostwriting Kelly getting her first period; you'll hardly see me." Jack can get on his feet. Sort out his shit.
But then Tony wants him gone.
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He almost thinks of something other than himself. But he doesn't. His eyes flick up as he haltingly pulls his jacket back on, the right sleeve crooked and awkward.
"Thanks, but I have shit to do." He's exhausted and dirty and has a hell of a walk back to their crummy little house, but his welcome feels worn out already. He'll... manage. "I'm leaving town. Tonight. Her folks made sure to let me know I'm not invited to the funeral."
You'll just upset everyone. And they're right. He can at least do them this much of a kindness.
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"You know where the door is." He doesn't even look at Jack.