“…Roosters…” Crackle. “Roosters…I repeat, the…” Static.
“Banks?” Sulli draws back as my hand flies to my ear.
I wince at the comms interference. But finally, the sound is more audible. “…the Roosters are here.” What the fuck are they doing in Los Angeles? At the Olympics?
Akara slips inside, chest rising and falling in months’ long fury. “Did you hear?” he asks me.
“Yeah.” I’m burning up.
“What’s going on?” Sulli questions. “Is anyone going to fucking tell me?”
I look to Akara. It’s his call. This is security.
He makes a choice. And he announces, “The Rochesters are here.”
14
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
5 MONTHS BEFORE THE OLYMPICS
FEBRUARY
I grip a baseball bat in a furious fist.
Venom seeps in my bloodstream like I’m fueled by an invisible chorus, pounding drums in my heart and screaming harmonies in my head.
Go. Go. Go.
My feet strike pavement. Rage carrying me ahead.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
Fuck him!
Outside of anyone who’s ever messed with my sister, I’ve never wanted to cause someone pain in my entire life. Not like this. But if someone deserves it, it’s my ex-boyfriend.
Will Rochester has returned home from a vacation in Maui. Fucking Maui. He jetted off to an island after dropping bomb after bomb on me and my family with The Royal Leaks. And he’s not licking his wounds. No he’s fucking sunbathing!
On Instagram, he’s posted photos of himself tanning on a yacht, drinking fruity cocktails out of a coconut, and jet-skiing along the Pacific. I’m tired of wishing he’d slam his jet-ski into a rock.
For one, he’s no longer in Hawaii.
He’s back in Philly.
And he didn’t reject my DM when I asked to “meet up” outside his family’s house.
One month has passed since we discovered the Rochesters were the mole behind The Royal Leaks, and in that month, my anger has not been put to rest. I’ve cradled it like a newborn baby. Nourished it. Let it blossom into something angrier than before. For this moment.
On behalf of my entire family, I’m going to confront him.
“Hey, let’s think about this,” Akara says, keeping the same lengthy stride as me and Banks. We trek heatedly down a suburban street. The Rochesters live a few streets over in the same gated neighborhood as my parents.
A quick flyby to my childhood home to retrieve a bat, and now we’re on foot to the real destination.
“I’ve had a month to think about it, Kits,” I tell him. “Fuck him and his stupid chiseled jaw and his bland personality and his deceitful fucking butthole!”
“He showed you his butthole?” Akara banters with mock rage.
I growl, in no mood to try to laugh or be cheered up or swayed from this path.
Akara looks to Banks. “Back me up here, man.”
“You heard our girl,” Banks says. “Fuck him.”
Akara grimaces, “Not you, too.”
I cut in, “I’ve made my decision, Kits. Someone has to talk to my ex, and that person has to be me.”
“Right on,” Banks says, eyes pinned ahead like he’s focused on a target. Ever since I laid down the plan, Banks has been one-hundred-percent ready to confront Will.
Akara, on the other hand, has been more cautious. He hop-steps in front of us and walks backwards to speak face-to-face. “You need a baseball bat just to talk?”
“It’s for intimidation.” Will doesn’t need to think he can push me around.
Akara spreads open his arms. “Aren’t you a lover, not a fighter?”
That’s what I’m always telling him. He’s been my fighter, my defender. They both have. And when push comes to shove, they’d use the bat. I wouldn’t.
“Then you hold the bat.” I toss him the baseball bat.
He has top-notch reflexes, but Akara lets the bat thump against his firm chest and clatter to the fucking pavement.
“Seriously?!” I shout.
“No bat.”
“We’re taking the bat!”
Banks picks up the bat.
“Thank you,” I say loudly, still heated.
Akara glares at Banks. “Drop the effing bat.”
I interject, “Stop ordering my boyfriend around, Kits.”
“He’s my man, Sul. It’s my job to order him.”
“Keep the bat,” I tell Banks. “Don’t let your boss make you do something you don’t want to fucking do.”
Banks has a shadow of a grin.
Akara almost smiles. He ends up laughing. “I can’t believe this is fudging happening right now.”
Banks states plainly, “I’m not hopping into your fight, so you two work out that shit.” He casually braces the bat on his shoulder.
“Just stop for a second,” Akara holds up his hands, and before I barrel into him, I slow to a halt. Banks beside me. A mansion looms beside us, but the three-story white brick and column structure doesn’t belong to the Rochesters. “Just maybe, Sul, we don’t go in guns blazing like three cowboys.”
Banks says, “There’s no better way.”
“I agree with Banks. Cowboy-up, Kits.”
With two fingers threading through his black hair in exasperation, Akara exhales a knotted breath. “Fuck.”
I slug his shoulder.
He knew it was coming and barely reacts. After one second, he nods tightly. “Fine. Okay. I’m always going to have your backs. But let it be known that this is a bad call, and I’m only making it because I love you two way too much, apparently.”
“It’s known,” I nod. “Crystal fucking clear. If this turns to shit, you can blame me.”
Banks shakes his head. “That’s not how it goes, mermaid.”
Akara tells me, “I’m in charge. Screw ups are on me.”
I scrunch my face. “No, it’s not. We’re all equal in our triad.”
“This is a security issue. We’re not equals.” He demonstrates with his hands. “I am here.” He mimes a rung ladder, raising his hand high. “Banks is here.” He puts him in the middle. “You are here.” He puts me at the fucking bottom.
I’d be more insulted if this were a swimming issue and he ranked me last. They’re highly trained and skilled in security work. I’m not, and I can’t pretend that I’m the boss of a field that I know nothing about. That is insulting to them.
I’m going to feel like utter fucking shit if this plan goes haywire. But I’m not ready to say goodbye and cower. I know this is what’ll make me feel better in the end.
I nod in understanding. “Justice needs to be served.”
“Okay, Bat Girl,” Akara teases.
“I gave my bat to Banks, thank you very fucking much.”
“Actually, you gave it to me—”
Banks interjects, “Let’s go before you two give me a migraine.”
Even though he’s joking, that kicks us into action and ends our bickering. No way do I want Banks to encounter a migraine. He hasn’t had a severe one since the daith piercing and his doctor’s visit.