“Sure,” Jack nods, and he stands to greet my cousin. The rest of us turn and watch.
“Here, Sul.” Akara takes her motorcycle helmet, already holding his.
“Thanks, Kits.” Sulli unbuttons her denim jacket, dressed in denim jeans and a plain white tee. Her dark hair falls long on her chest.
Jack approaches and catches her gaze.
“You must be Jack.” Sulli holds out her hand.
Akara sidesteps around them, and I spot this long warning look that he shoots Jack. It pretty much says, careful with this one, or you’re dead.
Jack falters for a brief second. “Um…” He frowns and then brushes off the moment. Shaking Sulli’s hand. “I’m Jack.”
“Jack Highland,” Sulli adds, their handshake lasting a long beat.
Janie nudges my shoulder and her brows wag as she picks apart a croissant.
I don’t know what the fuck that means.
All I know is that Jack is acting weird. I can’t discern whether it’s because I warned him about Sulli, Akara shot him a look, or we’ve all been joking about his compliments.
Akara takes a seat on a beanbag between Farrow and Quinn. Security claiming their side of the low table. Alright, there are sides. They all observe Sulli and Jack more intently than they do most casual encounters.
“And you’re Sullivan Meadows.” Jack finally breaks from the handshake.
“You can call me Sulli.” Then her gaze flits to Jane.
Jane waves her over and makes room for her to sit in between us. I grab a teal beanbag and set it down in the free space.
When Jack and Sulli join us at the table, he sits on his own side and picks up his notepad. Now there are three metaphorical and literal sides: the famous, the security, the production.
I get it.
And I watch Jack watching Sulli. My cousin squishes between me and Jane, and she edges up to the table. Making a plate of food.
Jack twirls his pen. “Do you want to be introduced in the show as Sulli?”
Sulli piles two waffles on a plate. “Ummm…yeah, that’d be good, right?” She looks to me, then Jane. “Fuck, I don’t know. What do you two go by?”
“Jane.”
“Maximoff.”
She glances at Jack. “I’ll go with Sullivan.”
He nods.
Sulli towers three chocolate donuts on top of the waffles. She finds the whipped cream canister and strawberry syrup that Janie brought and squirts the waffle-donut mound.
Jack can’t stop staring at her breakfast, his pen frozen on the notepad. “Would you want to talk about that?”
“About what?” She looks up, confused. “My donuts? I haven’t eaten them yet. How am I supposed to talk about them?”
Farrow tilts his head at Sulli. “Green, the shade of newbies. It’s a cute color on you.”
She blushes and glances to Akara. He already throws a pillow at Farrow’s chest, who rolls his eyes. I can’t take in the joke or even add in a sarcastic remark. I just stay on guard for whatever’s coming.
“On the show,” Jack says, ignoring my bodyguard…boyfriend. Focus. I blink a few times. He clarifies further, “Do you want to talk about your eating habits?”
“Oh. Fuck, really?” She frowns deeply. “People would want to know about that?” Press has photographed my cousin at restaurants.
She only orders desserts. It’s not like that’s her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But she’s not following any nutritional food pyramid either. I only ever saw her eat healthy during intense training periods. She’d plug her nose and chug protein shakes.
“First, foremost,” Jack says to Sulli, “the show is about what you want to do. The public would love to know everything about you. So don’t feel pressured to speak about a topic that makes you uncomfortable.”
Sulli nods heartily, cutting into her waffle-donuts. “I like it.”
Jane flashes me a thumbs-up.
I’m not ready to rest easy. I tell Sulli, “Jack has a good perception of how the public will react to what you want to share.”
“Whoa, really?” Sulli starts smiling. It’s not often we find people who can ground our lives and trust. “So what would the public think about my breakfast?”
Security hawk-eyes Jack.
“They’ll label you a picky-eater to start,” Jack says, “and some will find it endearing. Other people will shit on you for it. That’s a huge part of the show—you share your story and then you take the good with the bad.”
Jane chimes in, “It’s nice being able to have your voice out there.”
Sulli stuffs her mouth and chews slowly, contemplating.
“Are you positive you want to do this?” I ask. “No one’s forcing you on We Are Calloway. You can back out now, Sulli.”
Jack studies her closely. “He’s right. We’d love to have you on, but this is your choice.”
“No, I need this.” Sulli nods to herself now. “Look, I need to talk about some of this bullshit…I’m just wrapping my head around how this works.”
“That’s okay,” Jack says, comforting. “I’ll guide you through the process.”
Sulli takes a bigger breath and looks to Akara. He combs his black hair back and fits on a backwards baseball cap. She asks him, “You’ll be there while we film? Even if it’s not a public place?”
“If you want me there,” he says, “I’ll be there, Sul.”
“Okay, good.”
Jack edges closer to the table. To her. “Hopefully,” he says, drawing Sulli’s gaze, “you and me will reach a place of trust where you won’t need Akara in the room.”
The air snaps on the security side of things. Jane rocks back with me, our furrowed brows on the three bodyguards.
Akara is boiling. Venom in his glare, muscles supremely flexed. Sitting completely still—that’s somehow more intimidating. And no one intimidates me.
But you know that.
You don’t know that Farrow has his fist to his mouth, jaw tensed.
Or that Quinn crosses his arms at Jack.
They’re not happy that he just metaphorically banished a bodyguard from a room. Jack senses this and speaks directly to Akara.
“Why would you need to be in a secure environment?”
“Because she asked me to be,” he says curtly. “Any other questions, Jack?”
“For Sulli, yeah,” Jack says, trying to ignore the incensed bodyguards.
Sulli hesitates to eat another bite of food. “You okay, Kits?”
Jack and Akara stare each other down.
And then Akara says flat-out, “Respect security and we’ll respect production.”
“Sounds good, man.” Jack swigs his sports drink.
Akara nods.
I’m fucking impatient. “Let’s move on.”
“How about,” Jack says to Sulli, “you tell us what you’d like to talk about on the show. You said there’s bullshit that needs to be said. What bullshit?”
Sulli uses her muscular bicep to wipe her mouth. “So the photographs from the Olympics.”
My muscles bind, but she’s able to meet Jack’s gaze while unloading more of her feelings.
“The ones with the hair. The stupid fuckwads who keep thinking it’s funny to zoom up on my bikini line need to know they are fuckwads.”