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Charlie veers to the left, suddenly, and his head disappears behind a group of taller men. If it were my first day on the job, I’d think he was trying to lose me in the crowd. But it’s not my first day. Not even my second. I’ve been Charlie’s bodyguard for over five years. So I don’t think it. I know he’s trying to lose me. Here’s an annoying fact: His success rate is about 50%. Here’s a less annoying fact: Before me, his success rate was 100%.
Charlie will often say things to me like, “You have a strange choice in friends.” “You sure you don’t want to reevaluate your friendship with him?” “Why are you friends with a self-righteous, arrogant asshole?” Farrow and I go way back. But I don’t shoot the shit with Charlie like that. I’d give him a half-second look and say, “Worry about your own friendships, or lack thereof.” He’d take the diss with an impressed smile.
Charlie and I aren’t friends. Let me make this clear. We. Are. Not. Friends. I am not a buddy-guard. So when Charlie makes small remarks that edge on lethal injections, I don’t play into his hand. He can do that with his actual friends.
I’m the oldest by a longshot. I celebrated my thirty-second birthday a couple months ago, and my sister and brother are a whole decade younger than me.
Highland and I have history. Okay, that’s a lie. We have zero history. Because the guy rejected my kiss. Rejected me.
I may have fallen for a straight guy, but my heart is bricked back up. Duct-taped shut. Jack’s not getting anywhere near it, and once I have my clothes it’ll cement that shit.
return the nod. “You hiding out, Highland?” I ask him casually, despite the fact that nerves ratchet up. I don’t need my Yale degree in Kinesiology to tell me why my heart starts racing or my palms get clammy. I have a crush on him. A stupid. Silly. Dumbass crush.
I’m the one who nearly choked on my food when Maximoff used that word. Back at his sister’s first Rainbow Brigade outing, he asked me about Jack, “You have a crush on him?” I laughed. Crush.
“It’s not so bad,” he tells me. His smile grows. “You’re keeping me company, right?” He’s flirting. He’s definitely flirting. Someone should just pop out behind the bushes with a huge ass sign that says yes.
He smiles. “First off, I’d never be scrawny. Have you seen me swim?” “I’m suddenly having a hard time remembering. You’ll have to show me again.” “Make the date, I’ll be there.” Date.
“I’ve already given you more than that, Highland. You think I’d stop there?” He laughs into a bigger smile. “Maybe I’ll just quit packing for these trips. Your clothes always smell good, and you probably have better underwear than me, anyway.”
“Uh…” he breathes out. “Thanks, but I’m straight.” I go rigid. Thanks, but I’m straight. Thanks, but I’m straight. Thanks, but I’m straight! It blares in my head. Concern is gone. I’m just…fuck.
Good God I want to run and hide. “Um…cake…has name.” I turn around, avoiding his eyes. And I leave with a hot, lengthy stride. I’ve never run away from a situation so fast. Shit, what did I even say? Cake…has name? That’s not a complete motherfucking sentence! I was trying to tell him there’s a piece of cake that has my name on it. Fumbled the exit.
I click my mic and speak quietly on comms. “Have fun on your honeymoon, Redford. Don’t be too sad I’m not there to make a good time better.” “I think you mean messier, Oliveira.”
“A hundred-and-one tabloids with your face front-and-center would disagree.” “You mean the ones that say I’ve had the wedding of the century?” I can practically see his smug cheek-to-cheek smile with that ace thrown. He got me.
We’re all a lot of where we come from, just as much as we are the people who raised us and who we’ve met along the way.
Jack hasn’t sat back down, thankfully, because I have to return to the front door. “You could use a bigger apartment, Highland,” I whisper to him as I pass again. “You don’t fit in this one.”
Charlie twists the gold ring on his finger. A Faust Academy crest of a falcon and crown rest in the center. He never had to tell me, but I know that’s his father’s high school ring.
“If people think that I’m betraying my family, they’re dumber than I thought,” he says. “Which is saying something because I think the human race has a chronic case of idiocy.”
It’s in this moment that it hits me… I’m about to be around Jack Highland a hell of a lot more. There’s no avoiding him. No ignoring him. In fact, I have to schedule a meeting with him. A one-on-one.
My life has always had structure. I’ve known how it’d start, where I’d go, and where I’d end up. That is, until Oscar… My life has never been more jumbled. Confusing. Messy.
“Kuya,” my mom calls out to me, using a Filipino term that means big brother.
He would’ve definitely told me if he had a crush on another girl…or guy. He’s straight. He said he’s straight before. I said I’m straight. Because I am straight. I can appreciate good-looking guys, and yeah, Oscar is one of the best-looking bodyguards. If not the best.
“Text Mama right now and tell her you’re driving home.” He lets out a huff and peels back more of his banana. “Did you already talk to her?” He sounds more remorseful. “Is she awake?” “Yeah, and she’s worried you’re doing drugs.” He groans. “Fuck, okay.”
“They noticed, and you’re still grounded from last time,” I say. “That means no surfing. Not even before school. Definitely not during school.” Jesse considers this for a second before setting his phone in a car holder. “You’d think differently if you were here, Kuya. The swells are—” “Sick,” I smile. “You already told me.” His eyes soften, almost sadly. I know he misses me. I miss him every day.
I pass the gold number: 2166. Cobalt brothers live there, and I used to take meetings in the Triple Shield’s security apartment right across from 2166. But ever since Akara created Kitsuwon Securities, Omega has different housing from Alpha and Epsilon. Oscar is the only SFO bodyguard with a client living in New York, so he’s moved to a studio apartment and lives alone.
do a literal double-take. His gray gym pants hang low on his chiseled waist. He’s shirtless, and my eyes drift along the Latin script inked on his golden-brown skin, placed across his collarbone. He’s Brazilian-American, born and raised in Philly, but I know the Latin phrase has something to do with Brazil.
“You know, I’d ask you if you find something you like,” Oscar says, trying to be casual but I hear the strained endnote. “But we’ve already covered that. You’re straight, right?” My throat swells, tongue weighed down. I hate myself for uttering those words in Italy. But I’ve never questioned myself about my sexuality. Not at ten-years-old, not as a teenager, not in college. I’m twenty-seven. I should have this shit figured out.
“You hungry?” “I had to run out the door this morning, so I missed bre—” I don’t even finish my sentence before Oscar is moving back to the kitchen. “It’s fine,” I tell him. Dude, shut up. Something inside me is utterly enamored with how easily and quickly he just moved into action for me.
Oscar frowns. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy that overthinks things. And not for nothing, Long Beach, but it’s just cereal.” “Yeah,” I nod. “I just don’t know what I feel like.” “So have both.” He opens the flap to the Lucky Charms. My head spins. “You’re right, you know. I don’t overthink things.”
“Look, I didn’t want to bring it up and make it more awkward, but I’m not a twelve-year-old, and I won’t avoid it.” He closes the Lucky Charms box and opens the granola cereal. “I think you’re hot, but I think a lot of people are hot. Me asking you for a kiss isn’t a big deal. We don’t need to make it a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, appeasing him, and then I quickly add, “You’re not the first person who’s asked to kiss me.” His brows knot as he slowly spins the cap off a milk carton. “But I’m the first guy that’s asked to kiss you.” My pulse pumps harder. “Well…yeah.” “Good to know,”
“You do this thing, Jack, where you try to make everyone feel good. I don’t need that kind of emotional baby blanket.” His eyes touch mine. A beat passing between us. His brows rise. “I’m good.” “Good,” I say, my chest tightening. He nods. “Good.” The air deadens. I can’t take it. “Oscar, I’m just trying to make this less awkward.” “That’s not going to be possible.”
“Ripley is, in fact, sixth-months-old,” I answer his questions. “It’s still unbelievable to me what happened. You know, Donnelly was supposed to become the guardian, but he couldn’t do it. I’ve known him for over a decade, and the guy is responsible but he’s not ready to be a father.” It would’ve destroyed him.
“I’d be a single father,” I continue on, “and I wouldn’t want that. Farrow genuinely wants Ripley in his life. He loves that kid.” I begin to grin. “I asked to babysit a few times, but Farrow and Maximoff are fucking attached. It takes a jack-hammer to pull them apart from him.”
THATCHER Has your location changed? Before I can answer, another text pings. THATCHER I don’t want to ask over comms and worry Farrow and Maximoff on their honeymoon.
So I just tell him, “Donnelly.” I explain how he’d often crash with Farrow at Yale. He’d even tag along dates. Why not join his honeymoon? Farrow won’t care. I continue with a laugh, “The guy attaches himself to Farrow like he’s another appendage. He’s practically Redford’s sixth toe at this point.” Without a doubt, I love Donnelly as much as I love Farrow.
“Do you want me to?” Christ. Everything out of his mouth sounds like a come-on. “Do you always answer a question with a question, Highland?” His lip quirks into a smile. “You just did the same thing.” “Imagine that,” I say casually.
I’ve been working in the field since I was twenty-four. First on Ben Cobalt’s detail, and I proved myself enough in just a year to land the coveted position as Winona Meadows’ bodyguard. Honestly, that caused me more problems than it should’ve. Jon Sinclair, the current Epsilon lead, was pissed that I was so new and landed with the Meadows family. The asshole still resents me to this day because of it. Then at twenty-six, I was transferred back to the Cobalt Empire to be Eliot’s bodyguard. After a successful year with that troublemaker, they decided to toss me into the lion’s den with Charlie.
My brows knit together. “You can hear them?” “I can read lips…” Oscar pauses and then adds, “If I’m not distracted.”
Charlie looks from me to Oscar and then back to me. “Ever since Eliot and Tom moved in with me and Beckett, I’ve been cleaning up their messes. If I’m going to be their janitor, they better know how dumb I think the shit they get themselves into is.” He pulls out a cigarette and types on his phone. “So fuck no, I’m not helping them without giving them a hard time.”
He exhales and mutters something like, “Don’t ask me that.” He scratches the back of his head, then tells me, “You can shoot your shot, Highland. Dunk your questions.” “What if I air-ball?” I quip. “Dunk,” he emphasizes. I like how Oscar always brings me up, even when we’re joking around.
“Okay, here it is. Why are you still wearing the nose piercing if it was just a dare?” He could’ve taken it out. “Because I look hot,” he grins.
“Anyway,” I say. “My favorite porn star, Benji Strong, had one.” I regret the words as soon as they escape. “So yeah…” I clear my throat. “That’s how I know about dydoe piercings. I’m not an expert.” My endnote clearly relays a closing of this conversation. I examine my camera. But I feel Oscar frowning. Confused at my change in tone. That’s a good thing. It means he’s not aware that Benji Strong has mostly been in gay porn.
Luna waves at me. “Hey. Hi. Heidi. Ho. Howdy.” Purple feathers poke from her light-brown hair.
“Luna from Planet Thebula,” Tom calls, using the microphone on stage. “Get up here. Gotta fill you in.” She waves a second time. “Nice to make contact again.” And then she slinks to the stage.
“But that’s not the past beef?” “I don’t know what is.” I frown more. “So you have no idea what the core of the problem is between you two? Like, what you’re actually arguing about?” “No idea,” he admits like he knows it’s insane. “Your guess is as good as mine, Highland. So when you figure it out, come talk to me.”

