Fearless Like Us

by Krista Ritchie

  The fact that he’s been venturing out more only adds to the online craze.

  Maximoff cuts through the crowd with ease, even as they fawn over him and tug at his jacket and belt loop. Gabe is having trouble keeping up with the American prince, who acts like his own bodyguard, but Farrow is right next to Maximoff and volleying grabby hands away.

  I don’t spot Baby Ripley, which is more unusual seeing them without him. They must’ve let Lily or Loren look after their son.

  Donnelly and I let them pass through into Xander’s safe zone.

  “How’s it going, Summers?” Maximoff smiles at his brother. He’s been checking in on him all night, and Xander lights up every time his big brother comes around.

  Xander smiles back and motions to the snowman. “Sir Frost Squall of the Northern born.”

  Maximoff looks impressed and happy. “What’s the fourth eye for?”

  “He’s an all-seer.” As Xander explains, a stabbing pain shoots in my temple.

  I break the toothpick in half and spit it out.

  My head pounds harder, then duller.

  Gotta get this checked out.

  My migraines haven’t been that bad lately, but I remember the promise I made to Akara and Sulli. There’s only so long I can stall on looking into my health.

  I wonder what those two are doing right now. My brain auto-fills with images of them making out by an ice sculpture. Lip-locked, threaded together. It’s what Akara deserves after all the shit he’s been dealing with, and maybe I’ll ask for details later. For my own personal spank bank.

  I subtly massage my head, then hold out a hand as a crying girl blubbers, “I…I have to see him, please. Xander. Xander.” She sniffles.

  Donnelly winces a little at her tears. He’s already let one girl use his shirt to wipe up snot.

  “Banks!”

  No.

  No. That is not Akara Kitsuwon’s voice I hear.

  My anger already folds in on itself as Akara and Sulli bound over to me. Like Maximoff, they push their way through the overzealous teenyboppers. But Xander’s fans and Sulli’s fans don’t normally overlap, so none of the girls give her a second glance.

  Making their pursuit a little easier, they reach me in no time.

  Akara quickly says, “Gabe take Banks’ position.”

  What?

  “No,” I snap, immediately defying my boss. My eyes hot on Akara. “It’s your birthday.” I say the word birthday thinkin’ it’ll mean something to the guy who’s been cradling work like a newborn baby. Silly me. Sillier even, I know Akara isn’t big on birthdays the way some are. Because of his dad’s passing. But today was perfect for him.

  A Winter Festival in formalwear on his birthday.

  Perfect for a date.

  Perfect for romance.

  Hell, I’d take it if it were offered to me, so why is he being such a dumbass and turning this shit down?

  “Two more temps are behind me. They’re joining Gabe to maintain the perimeter.”

  Sure enough, I see two security guards shouldering their way through the crowds to reach our position.

  With heavier breath, Akara says, “We need to talk.”

  Gabe makes a wincing sound like I’m in trouble with the boss. He takes my post, so I can back up from the barrier of crying girls.

  I didn’t consider this might be a work issue. I frown heavily, rewiring my emotions. “Is this about security?” I ask Akara while he motions me further away from Sir Blob Squall and the Hales. With Sulli at our sides, we all journey several meters to my ten, soft snow underfoot. I sink with each step.

  And then we stop.

  Standing among the classic snowmen, Sulli glances cautiously between us.

  “No,” Akara says, “this is about us.”

  Us.

  The lack of shrill screaming over here is increasing the thunder-fucking throbbing in my head.

  I grind down on my teeth. “What about us?” I ask, but as soon as I say the words, I notice Thatcher and Jane joining the safe zone that Donnelly, two temps, and Gabe create.

  My brother and his wife are watching us.

  I frown deeper. What the hell is going on?

  Sulli takes a hearty swig from a mug. I stare at that, too. Don’t know what she just downed, but I’m guessing liquor by how she sways unsteadily.

  I feel like I’ve missed a lifetime and it’s only been a few hours.

  “I’m gonna…” Sulli jabs her thumb towards her cousin. “Give you guys a moment to talk.”

  I’m about to tell her to stay, but she’s faster than my tongue.

  Akara inhales a sharper breath, watching her leave. “She’s on her third cup of spiked cocoa in less than an hour. I haven’t seen her drink this much, this fast…ever.”

  More rigid, I hardly move a tensed muscle. “You don’t think she’s trying to have a good time?” From the concern compounding in his eyes, I see it’s more than that.

  “She hates the attention from the Kitsulli shippers,” he explains. “I think it’s getting to her. Normally, she’d brush it off but…” His gaze hits mine.

  I grimace. “She’s feeling bad for me.”

  He nods.

  I rake a hand across my unshaven jaw. “Well, what’s the solution? Telling the world we’re a triad isn’t going to turn off the spotlight.”

  Akara lightly pounds a fist into his palm a few times, anxious. Pent up with emotion that I can’t name yet. “That’s not what I need to talk to you about.”

  “Then what?” I nod to him.

  He pushes back his hair and lets out a strained breath. “I know about your dad.”

  I don’t blink. “Say again?”

  Akara steps forward with something raw barreling through him. That pushes against me like a two-handed shove to the chest. “Thatcher told me everything.”

  My brother.

  The guy who usually is more tightlipped than me told Akara the one secret I didn’t want him to know. I can’t tell if the knife is wedged in my back or if it’s deep in my chest and I was just too dumb to notice it.

  “Well…” I breathe, a rock in my throat. “That’s not where I thought tonight was going.”

  Akara never looks away.

  I’m just as unblinking, and our staring contest is one of pain and unbearable things. And I should break our gazes, but I’m not one to cower. I’m standing strong, even long after I’m buried and gone.

  Akara barely stirs as he says, “I’m firing him. Tonight. He’s done.”

  “No.” My face screws up. “No.”

  “Banks—”

  “Don’t be a stunad. My dad is the only thing keeping your head above water right now.”

  “He wished you had died,” Akara snaps back, veins protruding in his neck. “I can’t keep him on my company—on my payroll—knowing he said that shit to you.” His eyes are bloodshot.

  Mine sear. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do. End of story.” I walk away, needing this conversation to end. Needing this resolution to be cemented. Akara can’t drive his company into the ground for me. Not gonna happen.

  “No—” Akara catches my bicep, drawing me back. “This isn’t over, Banks.”

  I swivel around on him. “It’s over,” I combat. “You’re not doing this for me.”

  “It’s for me then,” Akara says tightly. “I can’t have this on my conscience. What he said to you, it’s unforgivable. You knew that, and that’s why you didn’t tell me. You knew how I’d feel about him afterwards. You knew it’d make me want to throw him back to California. And the things I want, I gun for. I’m not letting him stay.”

  I grit down, pissed beyond belief. He’s throwing his entire firm in the shitter. For what? For me? For my feelings? What about everything he’s ever worked for? I take a step like I mean to walk away, but I swing back to him and growl out, “Don’t do this, Akara. Not for me.”

  “Why not for you?”

  I want to throttle him.

  He wan
ts to throttle me.

  We’re glaring, and Akara breathes, “I did it. It’s already done.”

  Torment explodes in me, and I push Akara hard. Like he saw it coming, he grips my suit jacket, and we wrench and pull with the same raw frustration embedded in our wrenching-and-pulling words. And we crash into a snowman. Cold rips through me, and we land hard, wrestling underneath the mound of snow and a top hat and carrot. I don’t want him to fall on a sword for me.

  He doesn’t want me to take the sword for his company. Our crossroads are met with fists and sweat, and we pass blows. Knuckles in jaws, in abs, and he’s a better grappler, pinning me down beneath his body, even though I weigh more.

  “KITS!” Sulli yells. “BANKS! STOP! FUCKING STOP!”

  I barely hear her over my own frenzied pulse. Barely see anything but Akara and the snow. We grip and pull and wrench and pull. “Why can’t you care about yourself?!” He screams at me through held-back tears.

  Those words throttle me in the gut.

  I don’t know why.

  I’m second best.

  I’m dispensable.

  I should have been the one who died.

  All those things I know aren’t true but have been scarred onto bone buried under flesh. Because for most of my life, I’ve lived for the short time. Not for the long time or the everlasting time. But the briefest moment and second in time.

  Because I never thought about myself like he’s thinking about me. Like she’s thinking about me.

  Through glassed and searing eyes, I yell back, “You need him!”

  “Not more than I need you,” he sneers before crawling off my body, and though every sore muscle in my body is screaming at me to collapse on the snow, I can’t.

  He can’t.

  Tunnel vision expands, and we notice the chaos we resurrected. Teenyboppers aim phones at us, recording our brawl into deceased Frosty the Snowman, and Maximoff has his arms around Sulli while she tries to run towards us.

  “Let me stop them, Moffy! I can fucking stop them, please!”

  Quickly, we scramble to our feet, just as Farrow wedges himself between us and extends his arms. “See, what we’re doing is not this. Not here.” Heat drills his glare onto me, then Akara. “Whatever’s going on—”

  “Oh my God, they were fighting over Sulli!” a girl cuts him off and shrieks like it’s the cutest thing in the fuckin’ world. We did kinda fight over her. But not tonight. She has that wrong. I can’t see her among the crowd near Xander.

  Oscar jogs over to us, and I notice Charlie Cobalt has joined Maximoff and Jane who speak to Sulli. Fuck Charlie.

  That’s crossed my mind more than once. Every time I see him—being real here.

  He called my girlfriend weak.

  Sulli told us.

  We’re all constantly looking from our clients to the crowds to the temps.

  “Everyone’s saying you two broke out in a fight,” Oscar motions to me and Akara. “They’re wrong?” He sees Farrow’s knife-cutting gaze and then says, “Fuck me, they’re not wrong?” Oscar stares at Akara like he’s never seen him before.

  “It’s over,” Akara says and glances at the crumpled snowman with remorse. To Farrow, he adds, “I’m sorry. I want to apologize to Maximoff too—there’s no excuse for what just happened.”

  Farrow frowns, disappointment in his face. Akara is supposed to be the best of us, the example we follow, and the one he leads by.

  Here I am, just wanting Akara to put Kitsuwon Securities first, and now I’ve fucked up his standing with SFO. How they see him. How they respect him—I know that means somethin’ more to him than I’ll ever know.

  “It’s on me too,” I cut in.

  “No,” Akara shakes his head. “I’m your boss. I knew better.” He pries out his earpiece for a second. “Banks.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We have a two months’ pay-cut and mandatory weekly therapy.”

  Farrow almost smiles.

  Oscar is grinning.

  Respect isn’t all lost, thank the Lord.

  I nod to Akara, accepting whatever punishment he gives me.

  “Welcome to the club,” Oscar pats Akara and me on the shoulders. When the Oliveira brothers threw punches at the Charity Golf Tournament, Akara let them off with the same penalty.

  “Not a club I wanted to join,” Akara says with a slight smile that vanishes too fast. He’s eagle-eyed on something.

  We all rotate to look. Near a lit tree, several Triple Shield bodyguards are snickering at us like we’re a bunch of jokes. Like we’re the rookies. Hell, I’ve worked with those same bodyguards who laugh now, and they’re not perfect. When push comes to shove, I’d still have their backs.

  We’re tense.

  “Kitsuwon Securities 1 – Triple Shield 3,” Oscar says the new tally we’ve been keeping of wins. And we just fucked it.

  “Dammit,” Akara curses under his breath.

  I lightly tap my knuckles to his shoulder.

  His lips nearly rise.

  And then Sulli runs over to us. Her long legs pumping like she’s racing against a clock. Though, she’s still unsteady on her feet, teetering a little. Farrow and Oscar leave us, and Akara catches Sulli around the waist before she crashes into my chest.

  “What the fuck?” she curses at us, concern welled up in her eyes.

  My dumbass almost reaches out to touch her head in gentle affection. Flashes of cameras still ignite at the other end of Snowmanville. Not sure if they’re capturing pictures of Xander or of us.

  I’m a bodyguard here, and she’s a Meadows. Nothing more.

  “You know what that was like…watching you two physically hit each other?” she asks as Akara lets her go, then she slugs my arm and turns, slugging his arm. “It felt like that, but ten million times worse. And why are you two smiling at me?!”

  ‘Cause I love her, but I have to pocket the words for later. “Maybe your cousin should’ve let you intervene sooner. All the anger in me just died.”

  She smiles.

  “Sulli the Peacemaker,” Akara says, smiling too.

  “What if I want to be Sulli the Fighter?”

  I remember Donnelly’s response to Sir Frost Squall’s appendages. “Why not both?” I ask her.

  She looks from me to Akara and smiles even more. She has both of us. I have both of them. Akara has both.

  We all have each other.

  Knock knock.

  Knock knock.

  “Fucking fuck,” Sulli curses. “I don’t even want to look.”

  But Akara and I have to.

  We pull out our phones and read the newest bomb-drop.

  THE ROYAL LEAKS

  We reveal all the truths about the American Royals. These are verified and come directly from the source.

  ROYAL LEAK #1: Maximoff Hale bottomed for Farrow last night.

  #TodaysLeaks #Sex&Tell #DoTheDirty

  Sulli is wincing. “It’s fucking bad, isn’t it?”

  I turn and notice Farrow whispering in Maximoff’s ear while Xander is about done with the snowman. And Maximoff is expressionless. Like he’s been frozen in a chunk of solid ice for decades and hasn’t thawed out yet.

  “It’s Moffy?” Sulli guesses.

  “Yep.” Akara tenses. “Something about his sex life.”

  “Fuuuck,” Sulli draws out. “He’s so private about that…oh no.” We all watch as Maximoff speaks to his little brother, then walks up a small slope towards the gardens. Farrow at his side, they’re leaving for the only semblance of privacy at this event. The hedge maze.

  “We have to find this fudging mole,” Akara says, glaring out in the distance.

  “If only it were a mole made out of fudge,” Sulli says with a nod, “then we could just melt him. Stick him under a fucking lamp, and bam. He’s chocolate syrup.”

  Her joke alleviates the bad news, and we all share a small smile. With simple understanding, we all try to rebuild the demolished snowman for Maximoff. The proceeds tonight a
re going to LGBTQ+ homeless youth, and I’m feeling even worse about the fight. Not to mention, we might’ve fucked someone’s chances at a Winter Fest trophy.

  I crouch down, fingers numb as I work on the snowman’s torso. They’ve both dropped to their knees, and she asks, “Is the fight over then?”

  “We’ll be done fighting as soon as Akara hires my dad back—”

  “I haven’t fired him yet,” Akara admits, packing in snow.

  I glower. “But you said—”

  “I lied.”

  “You fucker.” I gather a fist of snow but think better than to throw it at his face.

  “Hey, good call,” he compliments with a pat on my shoulder.

  “Is that supposed to kill my anger?”

  “No, but maybe Sulli will.”

  I expect her to respond. Nothing.

  We glance over at a quiet Sulli. Fingers pressed to her lips, she stares off. Her face has gone pale.

  I reach over to Sulli fast, arms curving around her body. Someone had way too many spiked drinks tonight.

  “We need to get her home,” I tell Akara.

  He sees what I do. “Carry her,” he orders.

  Easiest command tonight. I scoop her up in my arms. Standing with Sulli, I cradle my girlfriend and whisper, “Close your eyes. Breathe through your nose.”

  “Everything is spinning,” she whispers, hand to her face. “People are fucking staring, aren’t they?”

  Camera flashes click click click, and Akara by my side, we move out with urgency to the parking lot. We don’t slow.

  Maybe the fact that I’m holding her will subdue some of the Kitsulli rumors that’ve been annoying Akara and Sulli. Maybe that was Akara’s plan all along.

  39

  SULLIVAN MEADOWS

  Back at the penthouse, embarrassment roasts me. Why’d I drink so fucking quickly? I sip my third glass of water, a couple inches away from Banks and Akara and their towering, intimate concern. How concern can be so intimate—I’ve never known until now, under their caressing gazes that sweep and stroke me head-to-toe.