Now Price has parked his SUV and examines the Jeep quickly, hands stuffed in a light jacket. “Good work,” he tells me.
Banks stands rigid next to me, ready to launch a verbal assault at Price the first chance Price slingshots one at us. Sulli’s parents aren’t here this time, and it’d be easy to go toe-to-toe with the Alpha lead.
“You wanted to talk,” I remind him.
He nods, and glances cautiously from Banks to Sulli. He’s a fortress ready to fight for me. She’s a champion ready to challenge him for me. She wears my red windbreaker, her hair blowing in the breeze.
The loves of my life.
Both of them.
I rub my palms, my knuckles. “You can talk in front of them.”
Price threads his arm, clears his throat a little. “This is about your business.”
I frown. “My gym?”
“Your security firm,” Price corrects. He stares at his feet. “I…I should have helped you start it up. We’re not competitors. We’re colleagues.”
“It’s running fine,” I say sharply. Defensive, sure.
I try to cool down.
“Akara.” He opens his arms. “You don’t know how much I charge the parents.” He specifies, “Lily, Lo, Rose, Connor, Daisy, and Ryke. You’ve never known how much they pay my firm.”
I go cold, confused. “Clients on Security Force Alpha are charged the same amount as any other client.”
“No, Alpha bodyguards are paid the same as any other bodyguard, except for leads. I’ve always charged the parents a lot more to cover the expenses of running the firm. If you haven’t charged Maximoff and the rest of your clients more than what they were paying through Triple Shield, I’d be fucking floored if you’re not in the red at this point.”
What…
My eyes burn. In frozen shock. Unblinking.
Sulli asks Price, “Do you actually know what Akara is charging us?”
“Xander Hale is one of Kitsuwon Securities’ clients,” Price says. “He’s still a minor. I asked Lily if he’s still being charged the same as before, she said yes. She said that you must be charging Maximoff, Jane, Charlie, Luna, and Sulli more.” He looks to me. “You aren’t, are you?”
No…I’m not.
I push my hair back, finally taking a breath. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Price squints out at the sun that slices through canopies of trees. “Ryke told me to look at you like you’re his kid. This is the kind of advice I’d give to his kid. So I’m giving it to you.” His gaze is back on me. “I’m not sure we’d have a chance to talk alone again, so I took this opportunity.” He nods to me. “But the advice—it’s going to extend beyond today. You need help with your books or anything security-related, let me know. If Kitsuwon Securities sinks, so does Triple Shield.”
I’m not used to kindness like this from him. Not since I was a lead on Triple Shield. And I’ve dreamed of my firm dominating. I’m sure he’s dreamt the same thing. So for him to come here and extend this olive branch…I’m at a loss for words.
“Price…” I breathe out. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Just start charging them more. They’ll pay because that’s what their safety is worth, and they want you to succeed as much as you want to, Akara.”
“What he said,” Sulli grins.
I smile seeing her smile.
Price puts on a pair of aviators. “I have to go pick up some documents from the camp. You three stay safe.” He pats my shoulder and leaves for his car.
Banks smacks my chest. “Have I not been saying the same thing?”
“Charging the clients more? Yeah. But I didn’t want to nickel and dime them.”
“But you will now, right?” Sulli asks hopefully. “Now that you know our parents are paying the same fee.”
“Yeah.” I breathe. “I will.”
I’ll ask Price the exact amount he’s making his clients pay. I’ll do the same thing. I’ll pay Sulli back for all the mountain of credit card debt she unburied me from. And maybe it seems like an easy decision, but I’ve never wanted to be the guy that’d overcharge. That’d make Sulli and her family pay more for my mistakes fumbling through a new business.
Now I know that Price wouldn’t have kept Triple Shield afloat with the same boat I’m trying to sail. And I want the tools to succeed. Not to fail.
A weight leaves me. Suddenly. Epically, and I smile at Banks and Sulli, “I’m shutting down Studio 9.”
“What?” Sulli looks pummeled. “Why? No, Kits.”
“Yes, Sul.” I’m smiling. “It’ll still exist, just privately. For security only and for us.”
Banks frowns. “How can you afford to keep it open if it’s not generating any income?”
“It will generate income.” I snap my finger to my palm. “It’ll be our workout studio. For the workout programs.” We brainstormed more names on the car ride here but couldn’t land on anything. “What if we just call the app Studio 9 Fitness by Akara, Banks, & Sullivan? I won’t need a manager for Studio 9 anymore, and the cost of running the place is minimal now.”
“That’s fucking perfect,” Sulli smiles. “With a tagline, Kicking It with Kitsulletti.”
“Right on.” Banks is grinning.
That’s set then. We agree that we might need to take some exercise science courses at a Philly college. Just to better train our audience. And while Sulli is pregnant, we can record safe prenatal exercises.
Banks is smiling up at the sky.
I feel his brightness flood my lungs. And I breathe in the woods. The air. Her and him.
“What a great fucking day,” Sulli says. She howls upwards like an animal. Banks joins her. Eff it. I’m screaming too. Lit up with these feelings of success. Happiness. All the things my parents wanted for me. Wished for me. Hoped for me. I feel them here with me.
Heavy breaths, we’re all laughing and trying to catch oxygen.
“Fucking marry me,” Sulli blurts out, looking between us both.
“We already proposed, string bean.” I flip a strand of her hair at her face. “Too slow.”
She slugs my arm. “I mean now. Marry me tonight.”
Banks looks to her, affection in a single glance. “Straight to the heart.”
She flushes and says, “Feel the fucking moment.”
“Come what fucking may,” Banks adds.
They both look to me. Love cascading around us like a tidal wave. And then I say, “Forward and onward.”
64
AKARA KITSUWON
In the dead of night, we hop aboard a private plane, survive the layover, and after handfuls of hours brimming with anticipation—we finally reach the South Pacific. We tell no one. It’s just the three of us.
On a private island in Fiji.
Morning—the night still strong—moonlight shines overhead, and the ocean laps the coral sand and slips over our bare feet. Only one house on the island, the roof is made of straw and palm leaves—but Banks, Sulli, and I aren’t looking backwards.