Page 151 of Charming Like Us

“Yeah. Right after.”

* * *

The extra-wide securityvan has an aisle and four rows of black leather seats. We’re parked outside the golf course’s clubhouse. Six of seven SFO bodyguards are present. Everyone exceptFarrow. Not shocked. Just annoyed.

Adjusting the icepack to my cheek, I check the time on my phone.

I’m going to kill Redford. This shit can’t start without him.

“Pringle?” Donnelly offers the slender can of BBQ Pringles to me. He’s in the row in front of mine, and we sit sideways, our heads against the tinted window, and I see a sliver of his face, the rest obstructed by the seat.

“No thanks.” I can’t even stress eat right now.

My baby bro is in the very first row near the driver’s seat. He’s had his earbuds in, staring out the window. The Moretti brothers and Akara are in a convo at the very back, so hushed that I can’t distinguish anything. Bet they’re discussing my brother’s fate in security.

I’m irreplaceable, but Quinn can be let go.

It weighs on me.

Feeling choked, I pop a couple more buttons on my button-down. Most of the guys have shed the tailored suit jackets and undone ties. We look like a sober bachelor party that ended in a fistfight.

It did end in a fistfight, Oliveira.

I blow out a coarser breath.

“How many times did it roll?” Donnelly asks more quietly. He means the golf cart.

“I couldn’t tell.” Alright, I do steal a Pringle.

Sweet, heavenlyfood.

Donnelly crunches on a chip. “Been sayin’ all along Cobalts are invincible. Eliot and Tom have what—a cut? And Luna’s arm is probably broken.”

“It is broken,” I whisper. “No fucking doubt about that, bro.”

Donnelly sighs. He hates seeing the families hurt. We all do, but I’m gonna take solace in the fact that no one was gravely injured tonight.

He stacks five Pringles together. “Bad luck crew.” He stuffs his mouth full, and I know he’s referring to the Hale family. He mumbles something about “Cobalts never die” with reverence.

If Jack weren’t alone right now when I should be with him—I’d be grinning. I lick the barbeque seasoning off my thumb.

And if Farrow were on time, he’d butt in with,“Technically, Charlie got hurt in the car crash last year. So did Ben. They’re not invincible.”

But he’s not here to knock the Cobalt Empire down a few pegs. And we delight in the armored romanticism of our favorite famousfamily.

I check the time again.

Come on, Redford.

“You’ll make it, man,” Donnelly reassures. “Jack might be in the production meeting for a whole two hours.”

True. I could catch him right as he leaves.

If Farrow would hurry the fuck up.

Three minutes pass.

Then five more. “Kitsuwon,” I call to the back.