Page 219 of Wild Like Us

I MISS MY BROTHER LIKE something bad. Even more when meteor-sized shit balls create shit craters around him, and I’m theluckyfuckhead stuck miles away, unable to lend a helping hand.

I dig a snow shovel in thick white powder. Clearing the driveway.

Security Force Epsilon’s mansion towers behind me in this bougie neighborhood. My current residence. Still shocks me, sometimes. Just never thought my ass would end up among the Bugatti-driving rich.

I’m not even the guy who’d be allowed to pop the hood of a Bugatti. (Can’t believe I’ve done that already.) I’m the one who’dmaybebe granted permission to wash the tires.

My eyes flit to the mansion while I chuck snow off the driveway.

Most Epsilon bodyguards are in for the night since Cobalt, Hale, and Meadows kids (our clients) are safe and sound in their mansions one street over.

Five years running and my client is still Xander Hale. He’s now fifteen and home alone with his little sister Kinney. Their parents are at a charity event for children in New York.

I got off-duty not that long ago, but I’m not planning to rack out until I hear that Lily and Loren are back in Philly.

I stake my shovel in the snowy yard. Breaking to check my phone since SFO is out of comms range. My heavy breath smokes the night air.

Way back when—not surewhen, exactly (I’m not trying to be a fucking timekeeper)—Akara created a group text chat with me and Thatcher namedThe Losers Clubwith a red balloon emoji.

A movie reference.

If it’s trending and mainstream, Akara has probably already seen the film or heard the song, but my brother and I had watchedItwith him and a bunch of bodyguards years back. During our early days of security.

The text thread has been quiet since they’ve been on the phone with Alpha. I scroll up and read through messages I sent and their replies.

I texted:there’s no exit out of the hotel?

None that we can take anytime soon– Thatcher

Omega and their clients are stuck in an L.A. hotel room, after fans and paparazzi mobbed the building. Comms were blowing up since Luna Hale was supposed to fly back to Philly today.

Didn’t happen.

L.A. is a stop on the charity FanCon tour—the reason me and my brother are split. I go wherever I’m needed.

And I feel like I need to be here right now, at least during this transition period for Xander. Thatcher left our client to protect Jane and to help keep Maximoff’s relationship with Farrow hidden from the media on tour.

Bodyguards were pissed when Farrow broke the golden rule. Even more pissed when Thatcher voted to keep him on the team. It’s still fresh since the fallout happened in December. Now it’s February 4th.

I tried to stay out of the vein-popping anger and pile-ons.

We definitely need Farrow around, and Maximoff is an adult. It’s hard to knock either of them for falling for each other.

And I think life is too short not to do what fuels your soul. Thatcher can’t conceptualize shattering the “don’t fuck a client” rule, but he has trouble realizing that the “what” that fuels you can also be a “who.”

Anyway, ever since Thatcher has been on a tour bus driving across bum-fuck nowhere USA, Xander has taken it hard.

He’s been resigned recently, hardly talks much to me.

I want to request another guard on his detail. So there are two of us and we can go back to a 24/7 watch, including night, but currently, there’snoEpsilon lead. Not while the FanCon is underway and Thatcher is in this limbo co-Omega lead position.

I’m gonna have to ask the Alpha lead, and I have a feeling he’ll tell me to wait until I have someone to report to. My client is a minor. Anytime there’s a change with their security protocols, there’s ten to twenty more hoops to jump through and more parents to talk to.

Still scrolling through the text thread, I land on another message I sent:what are you doin about Sulli’s birthday?

She’s turning twenty, and they were planning on going to a waterpark.

Nothing, just stuck here– Akara