Page 136 of Charming Like Us
“Are you leaving? Why didn’t you call first?” I ask seriously.
“Yes, and I thought I’d surprise you.” He flashes a wry smile. “I know how much you love surprises.”
I’m never surprised, I want to sling back, but Charlie and Jack are the only two who consistently keep me on my toes. “Callfirst,” I emphasize.
Jack already jogs into the blue house. It’ll take him ten times longer to pack a camera bag than for me to just put on clothes. No radio needed when I’m the sole bodyguard in Greenland.
“You usually like the surprise,” Charlie says in a sip of espresso. “What’s changed?” His lip rises like a little wiseass. And his eyes ping to the condom wrapper and bottle of lube on the high-table.
I’m a professional bodyguard.
I’d even dare to say I’m among themostprofessional in Omega. Jokes and fun times aside, I keep it well-mannered and appropriate with my client.
He wants to talk about uncouth—this is uncouth.
This morning has dinged my reputation. I’m just glad Omega isn’t here to see it. Unless I open my big mouth to my friends in a haze of vodka and bourbon, I’ll bury this.
“Nothing’s changed,” I force out. “Stay there.” I head to the door.
He calls back, “If I wait for you, then something has changed!”
I know, Charlie.I don’t acknowledge him as I enter the house. I start getting dressed. Jack is already shrugging on a winter jacket and trying to gather his camera equipment.
“I’ll meet you there,” he says. “Just text me.”
I have to catch up to Charlie. Leaving Jack behind isn’t easy. My muscles almost shriek and try to rip me back towards him. At least we’re not in Philly or New York where he’d be pelted with caustic words and projectiles. It makes Jack doing his job and me doing mine easier.
With a quick kiss on his lips and squeeze of his hand, I run out.
Charlie didn’t wait for me.
My mouth curves higher as I race after him.
27
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
Back in the States,back to a grimmer reality.
“Hey, hey, hey.” I get as close to Jack as I can as his face shatters a thousand different ways, his reddened eyes on his phone. “Don’t look at it. Disable your notifications.”
“You don’t understand.” His voice lowers, stress puncturing his features. “This isn’t the usualfuck youcondemnation, Oscar.” He grips his camera at his side.
Our feet sink unevenly in hot sand. We’re on a beach inCalifornia.Seal Beach, to be exact.No cloud in the sky, the salty ocean laps against the shore.
And I shift my gaze off Jack for half-a-second. Even a fucking millisecond feels like a betrayal to him right now. He’s upset about some type ofOslieshit online, and look at me, glancing over atCharlie.
Fucking Charlie.
My duty, my job at every waking second of every waking minute of every fucking day. I’m fifteen feet away from him. He lounges under a blue umbrella, eyes shaded with green-tinted sunglasses.
Nearby, Jesse Highland uses Jack’s short pause from filming to shake out his arms. Jesse has been holding a heavy boom mic. Since we’re at the beach, the waves were apparently causing noise interference, so they popped out a boom kit.
Charlie is safe.
He’s fine.
But not too far away on his right side, four sun-bathing college girls keep ogling him from their pink Zeta Beta Zeta towels.
