Page 142 of Charming Like Us
I laugh with a nod. We’ve been dating, but we haven’t outright called each other “boyfriends” yet.
‘Bout time, Oliveira.
“Yeah”—I keep nodding—“you’re my frat bro, happy-go-lucky boyfriend.”
“Maybe cross out the lucky part.” Our fingers toy with catching hold of each other’s hand.
I shake my head. “At theveryleast, when all else fails, you’re lucky that you have me.”
Jack laughs, a lighter sound, but the noise fades. “I’m grateful you hired Gabe, you know, but if you’re not willing to let me pay everything, then let’s just split the cost. It’ll make me feel better.”
I only agree because of that last declaration.
28
JACK HIGHLAND
“Walkie-check,”a PA says over the walkie-talkie.
I click mine. “Good check.”
Every singleWe Are Callowaycrew member is on site tonight, plus some extra grips, and I’m hauling ass across the golf course in the dark, a Steadicam harnessed to my chest.
A big charity event with the famous families means a big shoot. All the Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts are in attendance. Including their bodyguards. Add in family friends, donors, and plus-ones, and bodies are moving everywhere.
I prefer one-on-one shoots, but I love the huge group ones too. More than anything, I’m hanging onto tonight. This could be my last shoot withWe Are Calloway.
I’m still an exec producer, but after this charity event, I’m scheduled for a serious meeting at the WAC offices. A sit-down with the other execs.
To talk about “my future” with the docuseries.
Anxiety is a four-thousand-pound seal on my chest. Heavier than the Steadicam. But I inhale, exhale—trying to breathe the animaloff.
The bright side is Oscar. He said he’d drive me to the meeting. I actually look forward to the car ride alone with my boyfriend.
He’s not getting off-duty tonight, dude.That thought blows, but I’m trying to lower my expectations. Mitigate my hopes so I’m not crushed or disappointed when he says,I can’t anymore. I have to follow Charlie.
Oscar assured me, “I’m going with you to the meeting—I’ll be there,” but he also sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Anyway, I have more pressing matters in thepresentthan worrying about a few hours from now. I keep jogging across Hole 5. That thought almost makes me laugh.
Dangling twinkle lights brighten the first nine holes. The H.M.C. Philanthropies annual charity golf tournament has turned into a charity golfsoiree.
Men in suits. Women in ballgowns. Fancy tables and pop-up bars dot the course, and golf carts decorated in green garland leisurely ride from one stop to the next.
Oscar told me Banks Moretti called it, “Bougie bar-hopping.” That was before Oscar and I split apart—not stoked about that but we’re both busy working.
I sprint up to a golf cart, familiar faces in the front seat. Akara slows to a stop for me, and next to him, Sullivan balances her bare feet on the dash.
“Hey,” I greet with a pant. “Have you seen Charlie anywhere? I need to get some footage of him quickly.”Before it looks like I’m favoring the Born into Famepilot.
I also add, “And apparently some boss of some badass security company pulled Oscar onto Hole 3 for paparazzi control. So I can’t even ask my boyfriend for Charlie’s location.”
Oscar isn’t around Charlie right now.
Akara smiles. “That’s because your boyfriend is one of the most senior security guys among both firms. I had to shift him and then put temps on Charlie. Paparazzi were invading the course from the bushes.”
“It was fucking creepy,” Sulli says.
