Charming Like Us (Like Us, #7)

by Krista Ritchie

“Whoa! Uh-huh…these stay near me, meu raio de sol.” His eyes soften at the nickname, letting go of the chips too easily. “What does that mean exactly?” I toss another chip in my mouth. “My sunshine.” He laughs into a brighter smile. There it is. “Fits well.”

And then he passes me the water, but I’m not looking at the glass. “Highland.” I stare at the shiny silver ring on his finger. That was definitely not there last night.

Wtf

I’m staring at my motherfucking marriage license. We both signed it. “No one’s talking about it on the internet,” Jack tells me. “Which means we somehow did this without paparazzi or people noticing.” “Of course we fucking did.” I fold the piece of paper. “I’m a strategic genius, Highland. I can get married without it being on the news the next day. Apparently, I’m so fucking good, I even hid it from myself.” I start laughing, but it’s a stressed, panicked sound.

“The crazy thing, Oscar, is none of this would have happened if we both weren’t so well-connected.” “Look at us,” I say. “So popular we accidentally got hitched.”

He’s my husband. And I didn’t even know his middle-effing name until seeing it on the marriage license. Until right now. “Your full name is Jack Arizona Highland?” I question. “Arizona?” He makes a pained face. “I was conceived in Arizona, apparently.”

Oscar strides over with determined steps. He stops beside Charlie’s black scuffed and worn down Bolvaint shoes, and Oscar lightly kicks the sole. “Get up, Charlie.” Charlie pats the ground. “Lie down, Oscar. Watch the clouds move.” Oscar’s brows furrow and he squats down beside his client. I keep the camera rolling. “What’d you take?” he whispers. “Just a couple booms.” “When?” “Hotel.” “You have a bad trip, you tell me right away.” “Always.”

Oscar’s eyes fall to the camera in my hands. I’m ready for him to tell me he’s not my subject, but then he says, “Not really.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I care more about when he does them. If I’m not around, he knows I’ll be pissed.” He pauses for a second, considering something before he says, “The first time he took LSD, he tried to take off all his clothes and jump into a fountain.” He snorts into a laugh at the memory. “He got a toe in the water before I intervened.”

On the footage, Charlie’s gazing up at the ceiling, and my voice can be heard off-screen. “What do you like about it?” I ask him. Charlie’s response is in French, and my eyes are on Oscar. He slowly smiles. “He said ‘what’s not to love?’ And that is a prime example of a non-answer from our man Charlie Keating Cobalt.”

“I need to talk to my dad.” He rubs at his arms and shakes his limbs like he wants to crawl out of his skin. “Oscar—” “I’ve got it.” Oscar’s dialing a number on his cell. After filming Charlie for so long, I’ve realized he calls his dad any time he’s feeling off. Like someone would call a therapist. It’s almost a daily phone call.

Before I make a decision, I have more questions, and they’re not for Charlie. “Did you know?” I whisper to Oscar. “That that’s the reason he lets people hurt him?” Oscar nods. “If intelligence is a ladder,” he tells me softly, “Charlie’s trapped at the top. And it’s a frustrating place to be.”

His expression is frozen in a perpetual wince. “I don’t understand…do you want an annulment?” No. No hesitation. I want to stay married to Jack Highland, but I can’t say those words.

But I don’t care about other people. I can be married now to him and face all those voices. Do I wish Jack is where I am? Sure, but we all have our own timelines, and I can’t force his. Even if it hurts.

FYI: I looked up how long I have to decide before we can no longer get an annulment. Five years. So I have five whole years to live in this unbearable limbo. Can’t wait that long—that’s all I know.

Luna’s wiping her swollen eyes with tissues I handed her. Sharpie drawings decorate a neon-green cast around her arm. The golf cart crash caused a bone fracture that’s healing.

Comms chatter is soft in my ear, so I’m aware of everyone’s location. How Maximoff and Farrow are on the Ferris wheel with their son, a bucket above Thatcher and Jane. Most of the Cobalts hang around the carnival game booths, and the Meadows family have been bopping around the higher adrenaline rides.

Donnelly rounds the corner with a plate of funnel cake. My stomach lets out an audible groan. “Donnelly,” I say. “Please say that’s for me.” “Why else would I come over here?” He holds out the plate,

“Where’s Big J?” Donnelly asks me. “Jack,” I emphasize, “is heading over. He just got done shooting Luna.” I rip off a chunk of the fried dough. “This smells fucking amazing, bro.” “The deal was dope, too. Some girl offered to give it to me. All I had to do was spit in her mouth.” Ugh. I drop the funnel cake piece back on the plate. “That’s disgusting.” He picks my chunk and tosses the fried dough onto his tongue. “I didn’t spit in the funnel cake, man.” He licks powdered sugar off his thumb. “I spit in her mouth.” “Bro, I got that part. It’s still gross. This wasn’t yours.”

LMAO

Love Donnelly, but I don’t want to touch anything from someone who’d pay to spit in his mouth. Jesse glances at us with a grimace. “Why did she want you to spit in her mouth?” Donnelly shrugs. “I dunno. Said she thought the Ass-Kicker SFO bodyguard was hot. But pretty sure her friends dared her to do it.” He smiles. “Jokes on them. I got this.” He holds up the plate of funnel cake like it’s made of gold.

“I was just thinking,” Donnelly says, “that Kitsuwon’s giant-sized manual clearly states not to carry production equipment for We Are Calloway. You a rulebreaker now or what?” “Just a motherfucker in love.” “With Jesse?” Donnelly quips, whipping his head to where the little Highland just left. One thing people never get right when they first meet Donnelly: he’s a smart motherfucker. He plays dumb too well. His smirk lands on me.

When Donnelly focuses back on me, I just go ahead and ask, “How much money is Scottie taking from you?” Donnelly chews slowly on the funnel cake. “He’s not taking anything. I’m givin’ it to him willingly.”

“Semantics aside,” I say. “Bro, how much?” He shrugs. “I’m not Redford,” I remind him. “You didn’t do me a solid. I didn’t put you up at Yale. And if that doesn’t convince you, I distinctly remember Redford calling you a viral mouth sore.” “Yeah, but he said it so fondly. What’s not to love about being a viral mouth sore?” He laughs. I smile. “Donnelly…” “I give him my paycheck,” he finally admits with an easy nonchalance.

Comms light up in my ear. “Akara to Donnelly, head over to the ring toss. Eliot and Tom need extra security.” “Cobalts who slay together, stay together,” Donnelly says as he leaves, throwing up a hand gesture that means love you.

Him and luna would be perfect

“Gabe to Oscar, Charlie’s headed towards the teacups.” Fuck, another spin ride. I’d think Charlie was doing this on purpose, but 90% of the rides look like I’d hurl on them.

Quickly, I whisper in comms that I’m taking a break for the night. Prying the earpiece from my ear, I unclip my radio, hurriedly winding the cord around the device. Quinn frowns. “What are you doing?” “I’m going off-duty,” I say. “If you want to talk, I don’t want to put a time limit on it. You’ve got me for the night, Quinn.” I don’t know why he’s chosen tonight, but I don’t risk asking.

“Your love is weak, Oscar. It never protected me.”

What happened

“I want this!” Quinn points at the ground. “I want to defend people. Protect people. To be a force of good. You know why I go off comms like Farrow? Why I replicate his style of bodyguarding? Because he needs no one. Not any of the team. He can rely on himself, and that’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted.”

“I can’t find Charlie.” Jack picks up his camera bag in a swift frenzy. I try not to get worried. This has happened plenty of times before. But tonight feels different. Everything is different. I worry my brother will think this is a choice. Him or Charlie. Quinn turns to me. “We can split up. It’ll be faster.” Our eyes lock, and I can’t say forgiveness draws between us, but something closer to acceptance. We’re both bodyguards. He’s here to stay, and I’m finally at peace with that.

He whirls around and lunges at me. I push, he shoves, and he has better hold. He thrusts me forward with too much force. And my forehead collides with a metal pole. Everything goes dark.

Fuck

Jack eases forward. “I’m alright.” His lips, kid you not, curve into a smile. “Who would have thought my first fight would end with me knocked out by a pole?” “Not me,” I say honestly. “You vs. Pole. I’m putting all my money on you.” He smiles a little wider. “Here’s the thing, Os, you’d put all your money on me no matter what.” He stretches out his legs. “You’re the president of my fan club.”

Jack scoops up his broken camera. “Charlie, why would you follow them without a bodyguard?” “Yeah, Charlie, why would you do that?” I say mockingly, already knowing the answer. He rolls his eyes. “I took the risk.”

Jack touches the bump on his head in a wince. “So this is what a fight feels like?” His glittering gaze slides to me. “Have to say, Oscar, I can’t believe you used to do this for a living.” “Tell that to my baby sister who’s still doing it for a living.”

“Thatcher to SFO, has anyone had eyes on Akara, Banks, or Sulli in the past twenty?” What in the ever-loving hell?

My mind can’t wrap around those three. For one, I thought Akara was in denial about his feelings for Sulli. So when she got her first boyfriend, I expected full-on Jealous Akara to gush his feelings once and for all. I grabbed my popcorn. Didn’t happen. Not even after Sulli broke up with her boyfriend. What did happen? I overheard Banks say that Sulli is a “total stunner”. Akara was there and just nodded. Couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or if he short-circuited.

Thatcher answers me, “Farrow left the carnival early with Maximoff. Ripley didn’t feel well. Teething issue.”

And then everyone’s attention suddenly veers to a girl sprinting like her life depends on it…out of the funhouse. “Sulli!” Jane screams and waves both her hands. Sulli redirects her target zone to our group, and as soon as she lands here, she grabs onto Jane’s arm. Where are her bodyguards? I go still, on edge…should I be alarmed or do I need to go buy some kettle corn?

Lol

“Why?” Jane’s blue eyes grow wider. Their voices are hushed. Sulli turns bright red. “I opened my big fucking mouth. That’s why. I told Kits and Banks they’re really fucking hot and they make me feel safe and comfortable, and that if I never have another boyfriend in my entire life, then it’d be cool to lose my virginity to one of them.” She nods vigorously. “Yep, and I thought they’d take it like pals, you know like buddies. But they were fucking silent!” She waves a hand around. “So I ran, but then I ended up in the mirrors and I got lost and they were looking for me…and oh my fuck.” Her gaze beelines to the funhouse exit where Akara and Banks are jogging out. Oh yeah, this is a five-bucket kettle corn moment. I’d be grinning at the drama right now if people weren’t hurt tonight.

She hugs her brother. “We’ll meet you at the hospital.” She turns. “Thatcher?” “Right in front of you, honey,” Thatcher says, leading Jane and Sulli towards the parking lot.

I nod to Akara with confirmation. Yes, my client was robbed. He clicks his mic and relays that back. SFO is never going to live this down. Kitsuwon Securities 1 – Triple Shield 2.

This is why Charlie wanted to do the docuseries. Besides set me up with Highland, this is the answer we’ve been waiting for all along. “Is it an older man?” Charlie asks. “He’d only be at charity events like this one. And he’d have a proclivity for hating my cousin.” “Yeah,” Jesse nods. “That sounds like him.” Ernest Mangold, the CEO of H.M.C. Philanthropies. Charlie wanted his head on a spike. That’s my best theory, and I might’ve made dumb mistakes tonight—but I’m still an intelligent motherfucker.

“…he should’ve just left Ripley in the petting zoo. Yeah…yeah someone attach a sign to him that says ‘pet me, I’m a meth-head baby’.” He laughs again.

Wtf

understand you were upfront about the reason being a selfish one, and I appreciate that, but why not just tell me you needed footage of that asshole’s behavior? We could have all made a plan together to take him down.” Oscar chimes in, “You know I would have helped you, bro.” Charlie blinks, his eyes on me. “I wasn’t sure you’d do the show, if you knew I was using the footage to get a man fired. I couldn’t take the risk.”

Leaning more on his crutches, Charlie tells me, “And that’s even if I could accomplish the task. Ernest is foul, but he’s not a complete moron. He stifles his worst behavior whenever he sees me.” He softens his gaze, and I know he’s being sincere.

“Please don’t make a decision now. At least think about it.” “I agree with Charlie,” Oscar says. “Highland, it’s been a long night. You literally hit your head and knocked yourself out. Just take a day. Maybe a couple more.”

“I know,” I start out, “you think you’re not a good brother, Os.” Our eyes lock for a strong beat. “But you were right to take care of yourself and go to Yale. You were right to figure out what you wanted and who you are, and Quinn is right to feel how he feels. And I hope now that he’s opened up and you know he was bullied, therapy will be better for you both.” I flash a warm smile. “I believe in the Oliveira brothers.” Oscar sniffs, then says, “Do me a favor, Highland.” He grabs a water bottle. “Next time you give me a pep talk, warn me so I don’t choke on popcorn.” We laugh. He wipes his mouth with his bicep and nods. “I believe in the Oliveira brothers too.”

The event: Chess. The players: Charlie Cobalt and Oscar Highland-Oliveira.

“For sure.” I study the board. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “You said you’re taking more time off.” My exact words were, Charlie, you’re going to have a temp on your detail more often. But he’s not wrong.

I’m going to take more breaks. More time off. For myself, my husband, my brother and sister. I’m no longer going to grind so hard, and that decision comes on the wake of Charlie being beat up. I realize—timing, Oliveira. But I know now that there’s no such thing as bad or good timing. Just the time we’re given.

“I am going to take some time off, but maybe I won’t tell you when,” I say to my client. “Give you a little taste of how it feels. How about that?” He’s smiling, a heartfelt one. “Sounds the opposite of boring.”

“Especially since you’re barely on We Are Calloway.” Charlie smiles. “Just ask me, Oscar.” “Ask you what?” I barely try to play coy. We share a smile, knowing what’s coming. “Alright, Charlie,” I say into a bigger smile. “Would you consider being on We Are Calloway more?” Charlie’s grinning wider. “You hate having the cameras around. You’re always complaining about them getting in your way.” “Still hate that,” I laugh. “But I love him.”

This morning, he had a conversation with Maximoff about H.M.C. Philanthropies. With Ernest being officially gone from the company, the board instated Charlie as interim CEO. But Charlie has no desire to stay in that position. I was there when he said to Maximoff, “It’s yours, if you want it. If not, you can find someone else to fill the role. It’s not something I want to do forever.” Maximoff nodded slowly. “I have to think about it.” “I knew you would,” Charlie said into a laugh.