Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“No.” His fingers weave through his thick, dark brown hair. “Did you?”
“No. I wouldn’t. It’d be easier to just leave.” We’re uneasy, and I say what we both know. “Our bodyguards wouldn’t spend ten grand to evacuate a room full of assholes. There are only a handful of people who would.”
His shoulders square, ready to protect and defend even though he’s not a bodyguard.
“Charlie,” I declare. “He would.”
Maximoff licks his lips. “As cool as it’d be for telepathy to be real, Charlie isn’t telepathic. Your brother couldn’t have known this mayhem broke out at this moment.”
“What if it’s online?” I theorize. “Someone could’ve recorded and posted everything.” I take a seat at the bar, setting my binder back down, and we take out our phones and do a quick social media search.
My frown deepens.
No peep. Nothing about the eldest Cobalt and eldest Hale in a South Philly bar fight.
Banks plops down on the stool beside mine. He just intercepted the path of a drunk middle-aged man, who probably would’ve sat next to me.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He just nods and reaches over the bar for a beer bottle. He motions to the owner, who gives the okay for him to take the beer.
“It can’t be Charlie,” Maximoff concludes. “Jesus, does he even know we’re here?”
“He does,” Thatcher says, coming closer to the bar with Farrow.
I rotate on the stool. “What do you mean?” I rush to obtain whatever knowledge they’ve acquired.
“Charlie texted me earlier.” Thatcher squats and collects my trampled fur coat off the floor. Dirtied. He splays the filthy thing on a vacant stool. “Your brother asked where I was. So I told him.”
I’m wary. “That was all he wanted?”
Thatcher nods.
My neck elongates, tense and very cautious of what’s about to occur. “Charlie is coming here.”
Maximoff shakes his head, uncertain. “It doesn’t make any damn sense, Janie.”
“I know my brother,” I say. “He’s bought out this particular bar, and he’ll be here in dramatic glory.”
It has to be Charlie.
Maximoff turns to Farrow. “Ask Oscar if Charlie is coming here.” Oscar Oliveira is Charlie’s 24/7 bodyguard, and so he’d know more than just where Charlie is.
He should be with him.
Beside him.
Protecting him.
Farrow blows a bubblegum bubble and pops it in his mouth. “You’re five steps behind me, wolf scout.”
Maximoff growls in frustration. “Farrow—”
“I already tried. Oscar is off comms. Most likely because Charlie asked his bodyguard not to share with the whole class.”
Thatcher looks grim, from the door to us.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Earlier, I heard that Eliot and Tom left New York and have been heading to Philly.”
“It could be a coincidence,” I note.
Farrow rests a boot on a stool rung. “Or your brothers are up to some shit.”
“They’re not up to some shit,” I defend, more hotly than I mean to.
He raises his hands.
Thatcher’s concern bears down on me. “What’s wrong?”
I take a strained breath. “I’m afraid my siblings are being coy in order to give you a hard time.” Admitting this is difficult because I would love to just roll out a beautiful, luxurious red carpet for Thatcher.
But this is not the Cobalt way.
It’s very possible Thatcher’s introduction into my family will be grueling, taxing, and of the most theatrical, over-the-top caliber—and I need to save him from this, don’t I?
Possibly that’s what I can offer him, an open window into my family that he can easily crawl into. But how?
Life is chess. And I need to be ten moves ahead of Charlie.
“Jane.” Thatcher draws my gaze upward. “I can handle whatever they throw at me.”
Even if this were true, I have to help him. “Ensemble,” I say deeply, a word meant for my family, and I want that to include him.
Together.
His chest rises, and he nods.
I type on my phone, my sibling group chat relatively quiet tonight.
I send: How many of you are coming here?
“What in the ever-loving fuck…? Where’s everyone going?”
I look up.
Sullivan Meadows, my twenty-year-old cousin, suddenly arrives. Her bodyguard Akara Kitsuwon safely leads her against the grain, and they enter the bar while masses barge outside.
Sulli unzips her puffy teal jacket. “Are we supposed to be here?”
“It seems that way,” I tell her. “Someone’s bought out the bar for us.” Much earlier, I invited Maximoff, Sulli, and Luna—my three cousins who live with me in the old townhouse—to join Thatcher and me at the bar. I haven’t heard back from Luna, so I suppose she’s busy tonight.
Akara fixes his mic on his red windbreaker. He speaks in short glimpses to the other bodyguards. Including Tony who hovers far too close. His proximity might as well light Thatcher’s eyes on fire.
My phone buzzes.
Have I missed something? Where is everyone going? – Audrey
If my little sister has no clue about what’s happening, then it’s likely that Moffy is right. Charlie isn’t coming here.
None of my siblings are.