Page 154 of Alphas Like Us

My eyes drift back to the names on thescreen.

Redford

Filipe

Carraway

No Middle Name Hale1

No Middle Name Hale2

“I’m number two, right?” I askOscar.

“That’s up to you two.” He sips his beer. “I know better than to get betweensiblings.”

The bowling alley door opens, and the noise jolts me. I immediately rise to my feet and watch my boyfriend talk to the manager beside the hostess table. He nods. Shenods.

And then he turns and his gaze annihilates me. Behind his brown eyes are disappointment and guilt wrapped into a singlelook.

I don’t wait for him to reach us. Meeting Farrow halfway, our arms wrap around one another. We kiss briefly and then his lips find my ear. “Where is she?” heasks.

Pulling away, I tell him, “At thebar.”

His browsrise.

“It’s not you,” I say. “She thinks she’s being stoodup.”

On our way to the booth, I give him a brief rundown of Holly. He keeps nodding, but he has a faraway look. This time I’m not sure if it’s because he missed so much already or because of what held him up at thehospital.

But I’m not going to pry for details. When he’s ready to share, he’ll tellme.

Still, it hurts watching something eat athim.

We both slide into the booth, and while Farrow unlaces his black boot, he spots the screen with everyone’s middlenames.

“The Princess of Death didn’t try to curse you for that one,Oliveira?”

Oscar fills up a pint for Farrow. “Not afraid of Kinney Hale when I have a client who actually never yawns or gets tired. Alright, if anyone wants to be scared of someone they should fear Charlie.Andhe’s the only one who can beat me atchess.”

I cling onto the fact that Oscar isn’t afraid to talk about my family in front of me. He doesn’t falter or hesitate or look my way forpermission.

Being treated more like a friend—it’s a goodfeeling.

But I catch Farrow glancing skeptically at Oscar, and my boyfriend deserts his shoelaces. Leaning forward with an elbow to the table, he motions to Oscar. “I need to ask you something. Like why you lied tome?”

I curve my arm over Farrow’s shoulders, the stress not too bad on my muscle. And I remember how Oscar has been telling Farrow that he doesn’t have a close relationship with Charlie, his client. That Charlie tells him next-to-nothing. But if that were true, then Oscar would be in the dark about Beckett doingcoke.

For me, bodyguards keeping information close to the chest is nothing new. For Farrow, one of his closest friends has been lying to him for possiblyyears.

Oscar checks over his shoulder. Tom is out of earshot. Five lanes down, he reorganizes the bowling balls into a rainbow pattern on the rack. Kinney is sitting at the bar. Chatting with the bartender, she tries to convince him to whip up a gothicdrink.

Off Oscar’s furtiveness, Jack senses that this is about to be serious and private. “I’m going to film Kinney,” Jack tells us and then exits ourarea.

Oscar looks between me and Farrow. “You know about Beckett,” hestates.

“We do,” Farrow nods. “And man, I didn’t need to know the details from you. I understand why you wouldn’t share. But I’m confused why you went through the whole charade. I wouldn’t have pried if you said you couldn’t tell me. Instead, you led me to believe that Charlie hasnorelationship with you. Why dothat?”

His gaze swings from Farrow, to me, and then back to Farrow. Oscar slides his arm across the back of the booth. “What’s the difference, Redford?” He shrugs. “He’s still not gushing details. He just gives me more than he has in thepast.”