Jack—I didn’t really trust at first. He’s just too likable. And he has so many secrets about the families that he could spill. It always put me on edge. Being cautious is a bodyguard’s job.
But somehow, some way, we became friends. Shit, we’ve even gone on double-dates with girls he’s introduced me to. He has an endless supply of acquaintances, contacts, whoever that always show up when we’re out together, even if it’s to grab coffee on a quick pass to say hello.
I’m not even the one who invited Jack here. Sulli agreed for her free-solo climbs to be filmed for We Are Calloway, and he’s in charge of her segments for the docuseries.
A camera is going to be on Sulli while she free-solos. All I can think is that her death might be filmed for the whole world to see.
She’s won’t die.
I believed that.
When she announced her free-solo plan on her dad’s birthday, the reaction was heavily mixed. For the parents, she might as well have announced she was pregnant with the devil’s spawn.
They were horrified.
But I was in the “let her do it” camp. I’m still there. I have to be. Sulli is too determined to drag her to a halt, and I’ve always known her as the girl who goes for gold.
I send a quick text back: For sure, I’ll keep you in the loop. We’re on our way to Yellowstone Country. You won’t need to come out for a few days at least. She still has to practice the climbs with a harness & rope before free-soloing.
As soon as I look up, an older white man shuffles out from the back of the office. Wrinkles sagging his neck, he adjusts a pair of reading glasses on his slender nose. “You need a room?” he croaks.
“Two. Adjoining if you have them.”
“Only have the one,” he says. “Would you like by the night or by the hour?”
By the hour…
That reminds me of Banks.
He told me in high school, he’d fuck in motels if he had the cash to “go all-out” for his date. Pay by the hour, buy her flowers, light some Dollar Store candles.
I never had an issue finding places to have sex.
Perks of growing up wealthy, thanks to my dad’s lucrative job. I was an only child in a humongous mansion-sized home with a nice pool house. Perfect for those nights alone with my high school girlfriend.
Banks slept on a pullout couch most of his childhood. I realize we’re different in a lot of ways, but similar in ones that are needed to protect Sulli.
To the old man, I say, “For the night, not by the hour.”
“Forty. Cash only.”
I slide a few bills out of my wallet and pass them over. Before I can ask how many beds there are, he’s handing me a key. Guess it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s the only room.
But shit, what if there’s only one bed?
That scenario plays on loop with every footfall back to the Jeep. Banks and Sulli are out of view behind Booger, but the closer I approach, the more I hear.
“I bet you I can do twenty,” Sulli says competitively.
“You know what I weigh, mermaid? If I sit on you while you do push-ups, I’d break your back before you hit five. And then Akara will shred me to pieces.”
“He’s not here, Banks.”
I’m right here.
Really, I’m actually still thirty-some feet away. Sulli is just loud. It doesn’t take a lot of strain to overhear her.
With a kicked-up pulse, I vacillate between walking faster. To interrupt them. And slowing down…just to see what happens.
“Tell you what, get on my back,” Banks replies to Sulli. “If I can’t do forty push-ups with you on me, then I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Deal.”
I move faster.
Reaching the Jeep, I round the bumper and see Sulli straddling Banks’ back, his palms digging into gravel as he does perfect military push-ups.
Noticing me, they freeze for a second.
“Hey,” I cut in, trying to sound casual. “We have a room.” I dangle the key.
Banks goes to stand, and in a seamless maneuver, he clasps the backs of Sulli’s thighs and hoists her up higher on his back as he rises to his feet.
Her lips part with heady breath. Her arm instinctively curves around his collar. Legs tightening around his muscular waist.
Banks has Sulli secure in a piggyback.
And my heart has stopped pumping blood. Because I can’t get over how she’s looking at him. Her eyes roam over Banks like he just made love to her in a motel parking lot.
A knot lodges in my throat.
Banks doesn’t have view of her face. He can’t even see her expression. Or the way she drinks in his hands that grip the bare flesh of her legs. He’s just hawkeyed on me, and slowly, he sets her feet on the ground.
For my sake.
Why does Banks have to be such a good dude? I wish he were a complete bastard so I’d have reason to separate them. To protect her.
I’m just the asshole keeping them apart.
“There’s only one key?” Banks asks.
“Just one,” I nod. Coming up to Sulli, I steal the Philly baseball cap off her head and try to fit in on mine, but it’s tight.
She smiles a little, and I tell her, “Banks and I will take the floor.”
Sulli passes me and Banks, then grabs a couple sleeping bags from the trunk. “If the bed is big enough, we can all just camp out on the mattress in sleeping bags.”
Banks’ hot gaze is on me. Waiting for me to make a decision. I am the leader, and I don’t want to make a big deal out of this right now.
She pauses in my silence. “If that’s…fucking cool with you?”
I wipe all thoughts about popping cherries and Sulli clean.
“Yeah, it’s cool with me.” I take the sleeping bags from her. “We’d need these anyway. Who knows what’s living in the sheets?”
She grimaces. “This is why camping is fucking superior.”
“Not a fan of motels?” Banks asks her and tosses me my backpack.
I sling it on.
“Tents are better,” she replies.
“Five-star resort hotels are even better,” I pipe in.
Banks cocks his head. “You are the bougiest of the three of us.”
“Can’t disagree,” I say easily, wanting to smile. But I keep replaying the way Sulli looked at Banks.
It stays with me as we all gather the rest of our overnight things. I lock up Booger, and we make the short trek to room 4.
When I open the door, the verdict is in.
One bed.
A full.
Not even a fucking queen mattress could come out and save this situation.
Banks and I sweep the room quickly for recording devices in the lamps and drawers, while Sulli drops her Patagonia backpack on the ground.
Coming out of the bathroom, I see her tear down the blankets and inspect the state of the sheets and mattress. “Um…fuck, what is that?” She inspects a stain with a cringe, then catches my gaze. “Hey, if you don’t mind, Kits, I think I’ll take the floor.”
“That bad?” I ask.
“It’s beyond fucking gross.” She assesses the room. “There’s enough space for all of us to crash on the ground, I think. I can grab the sleeping pads from the Jeep.”
“I’ll do it,” Banks says. “You said you wanted to shower.”