Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(29)

Maximoff touches his heart mockingly and then shoots me a middle finger on his exit. The door thuds closed behind him.

Oscar rests his bodyweight on his bag, still staring at the exit. “Photos don’t even do that guy justice.”

I rub my bottom lip, my piercing cold beneath my thumb. I’ve known Oscar is bi since I met him at Yale. He was a science major, too, only his focus was on kinesiology. So we shared a couple of the same courses, and on Friday nights we went to gay bars together because 1.) Oscar is fun 2.) watching him hit on guys is amusing as shit; no one has simultaneously the best and worst pickup lines.

I read into his words. “You think Moffy’s hot?”

“Everyone thinks Moffy’s hot.” Oscar rotates to me. “It’d be near impossible to find someone who says less than that. You see him. On a scale of one to ten, he’s—”

“Out of your league,” I say matter-of-factly. Trying not to appear territorial. My muscles contract, almost flexed, but Oscar can’t tell.

“More like, he’s way, way off-limits.”

Maybe.

Akara approaches all four of us, standing well over six feet. “Hey, everyone take a seat.”

Oscar and I lower to the mats where Donnelly and Quinn already sit. As soon as we’re on the ground, Oscar sticks his hand into a Doritos bag.

Shit, with Oliveira, he could’ve packed the whole snack aisle in his gym bag. The guy is always hungry.

“First things first, if you plan to recommend your gym buddies as security detail, ask where they’re from. It’s not that hard. Like this, hey, Donnelly.”

“Hey, boss.”

“Where were you born and raised?”

“South Philly.” He pats his chest. South sounds like sow-philly out of his mouth.

Akara gestures to the Oliveira brothers. “Oscar and Quinn, where were you born and raised?”

“Northeast Philly,” they say with deep pride.

Akara nods to me.

“Northwest Philly, two streets over from you.” We grew up in an affluent neighborhood and attended the same high school. Really, we were acquaintances. We became friends when Akara opened this gym, and I was one of the first to walk through the door.

“See, easy,” Akara says right at Oscar, calling him out. Tri-Force only hires new bodyguards who were born in Philly. They want people on the team who can navigate the city blindfolded.

Oscar raises a hand. “I thought Reynolds was from here. He had that annoying South Philly lilt, sounded like Donnelly trying to order breakfast at Lucky’s Diner—kept saying beggles and wooder.”

We all laugh.

Most everyone has a mild to no dialect, but the South Philly guys carry a much thicker Philly accent.

“Again,” Akara smiles, “just ask where they’re from. Saves me time.” He finally takes a seat on the mats and closes the circle. Looking around to each of us, his lips fall in a serious line. “You’re going to hate what I have to say about the charity event, but you get a grand total of five fucking minutes to complain. Then you’re done. I don’t want to hear anyone whining over the coms for the next three months. Don’t be that guy.”

Quinn nods repeatedly. Akara should’ve been his mentor.

I hang my arm casually on my knee. “Too bad Oscar’s already that guy.”

“Get back to me when you’ve been assigned to Charlie Cobalt. You’d start bitching if your client chose to experiment with hallucinogenics at a metal concert, and not even a day later, he takes an eighteen-hour flight to volunteer for the Red Cross on another continent. I’ve never even seen him tired or even yawn.”

“I’m sure he’s grown tired of you, Oliveira,” I say.

Everyone laughs again.

Quinn nods to his older brother. “You shouldn’t bitch about your client to Jo. All yesterday, she said I can protect Charlie better than Oscar.”

Oscar sighs in annoyance. Their younger sister Joana isn’t a part of security, and I’ve only met her once or twice around the gym. She just started boxing professionally this year, and the Oliveira brothers don’t want her to quit.

For as much as Oscar complains, there’s no one that could do his job.

Many have tried. He’s tactically strategic, and the perfect fit for Charlie Cobalt. It’s why he’s been on his detail for three years and counting.

Akara snaps his fingers to his palm. “You all ready for the news?”

Donnelly nods. “Lay it on us.”

Akara starts, “Moffy was really clear that he’s not allowing any of his siblings or cousins under eighteen to attend.”

“Epsilon is out,” Oscar says since SFE protects the young kids.

Akara shakes his head and pushes back his black hair. “Most of them will be at the event for extra security.”

I stretch out my legs and bare feet, my muscles cramped. We’ve never needed extra security for the Camp-Away, and that fact hoists dead silence in the air.

“We asked Moffy for more than seven days to background check the attendees. Which means that he’d have to close the raffle more than a week before the event,” Akara mentions the largest point of contention for security. “Moffy agreed to give us more time, but he printed out twelve pages of stats that Jane had calculated.”