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“I’d follow you around everywhere. You remember that? I’d tell you: “Quando eu crescer, quero ser como você.” When I grow up, I want to be like you.
“Your love is weak, Oscar. It never protected me.” I blink back tears, a hand to my mouth. Jack edges close like he means to comfort me, but I just shake my head. No…no…my brother wants to hurt me. Needs to. I’m going to let him.
Fucking bullshit.” He sucks in a harsh breath. “I was fifteen.” He chokes. “Fifteen. You were twenty-fucking-five and you couldn’t protect me!”
“I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need anyone, bro. I got stronger than everyone in the family, so that I could finally protect myself.”
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 want to stop hating you,” he mumbles into my shirt. “I just don’t know how.”
I see Jack. He wipes at his face, and he gives me a nod. I love you, he mouths. I’m proud of you.
“Copy.” He’s about to jog off, but he stops for a second and turns to me. “Senti sua falta.” I’ve missed you.
I’ve never been in a fistfight before. And I’m dating a boxer—no, I’m married to a boxer. Come on.
But Jack’s unconscious. Jack’s fucking unconscious. That thought runs over and over, panicking me more. Fuck, protocol.
“Jack,” I shake him a little. “Jack, come on.” He doesn’t stir. My throat swells. “Highland!” I yell, tears brimming. “Wake the fuck up!”
“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.”
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.
“I took the risk.” Because he doesn’t give a shit if he gets hurt. Pain, right? It’s greater than the frustration he feels on a daily basis. I don’t know how to help him other than making sure he keeps talking to his dad.
“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?
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.
“Life,” Charlie says, eyes closed, pain cinching his face. “Stupid people, the aftereffects of my choices…walking backwards.”
Stupid people, the aftereffects of my choices. Feeling that tonight like a motherfucker. I’ve made some mistakes that ended with me having a broken radio and caused Jack to head-butt a pole.
If anyone asks, I’d say Jane Cobalt is a saint for her patience and kindness towards Charlie. She tries to take care of him, even when he actively pulls away from the family.
He’s told me that he doesn’t deserve his sister’s love, but there are many times where he proves his own belief wrong.
From joining the FanCon tour for her, to threatening her ex-friends-with-benefits so caustically that Nate never made a peep again....
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Jack has me. That’s my husband. He looks up at me with this weak smile that tries to strengthen. “You’re staring at me like I’m your subject, Os.” “Who said you weren’t?”
“Farrow left the carnival early with Maximoff. Ripley didn’t feel well. Teething issue.” His gaze narrows onto the funhouse entrance.
And then everyone’s attention suddenly veers to a girl sprinting like her life depends on it…out of the funhouse.
“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.
“Thatcher?” “Right in front of you, honey,” Thatcher says, leading Jane and Sulli towards the parking lot.
“Price to Akara, I’ve got word that Charlie’s been robbed. Can you confirm?” Akara glares, making me feel two-inches tall. “He wasn’t on my detail,” Charlie defends me. “It was my fault. No one else’s.”
Now I really need the full story of what happened in that funhouse, but he’s turning to Banks and they’re already walking off together.
Jesse notices Charlie leaning awkwardly, and he instantly scoops an arm around my client. “You okay, dude?”
“I’d be better if you overheard someone talking shit about Maximoff tonight,” Charlie replies. His wise-ass is coming out to play. He’s lucky Jane isn’t here to snap at him.
“What exactly have you heard?” Seriousness crosses my face, especially as he adds, “Have you caught any on film?” Charlie. Keating. Motherfucking. Cobalt.
“Yeah, I shoot everything,” Jesse says. “I can show you tonight’s footage.” Jack exchanges a look with me. This is it. 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—...
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“I already told you why,” Charlie’s eyes soften, almost in hurt. “What benefit would me filming Ernest give Oscar? None.” Selfish and selfless.
I found love that lasts even when the screen fades to black.
“I believe in the Oliveira brothers.”
“I have you, don’t I?” I breathe. “That’s not even a question, Long Beach.” So what’s there to be afraid of?
“Sleep on it.” “As long as you’re in my bed,” I smile against his lips.
The event: Chess. The players: Charlie Cobalt and Oscar Highland-Oliveira.
It’d be a great location for Jack to film. And look at me, thinking about filming locations like I’m on production. How times have changed. How I’ve changed. For the better. No doubt.
You’d think Charlie would be upset by the news, but he’s happy. He’s wanted this for me ever since I lasted a year on his detail. Will I worry about him? Every motherfucking day.
“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.”
“And I’m still your 24/7 bodyguard, Charlie. That’s not changing, okay?” He frowns for a second...
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How much I care about him and his happiness. How much he cares about mine. We both wanted each other to fall in love, and he succeeded in helping me open a door that was right out of my reach.
“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.”
“Love,” Charlie muses into a sad smile, almost longing. Wishing. I wish I could help open that door for him one day. So he can reach the love of his life sooner rather than later.
“That’s why guys like you and me,” I tell Charlie, “shouldn’t be producers.” His lip curves. “Are you saying I lack a sense of morality?” Yes. “I’m saying we both have our failings,” I tell him. “Check.”
Maximoff hugged him, and they kept hugging for a long beat. Farrow and I shared an eased look because our clients were at peace with each other. Can’t beat love, in all forms, all kinds—and after a big dose of drama, all I want to do is surround myself in that feel-good, can’t sleep, gotta keep my ass awake to sing the night away, kind of love.
