Page 150 of Alphas Like Us
Normally I wouldn’t care about any of this. Normally I’d move forward without pause and be like,this is my life.But I want this to besecret.
Jane puts her chin to her knuckles. “Hmm.”
My mom turns to me. “Would you be upset if someone else wentforyou?” she asks. I see tenderness and sympathy behind her green eyes. Because she knows in order to keep this a secret, I need to jump through extrahoops.
Jane chimes in, “And that person can pick out extra rings, so you’ll be able choose which you likebest.”
That’s starting to make the most sense. But I just don’t knowwhoI could send. “Janie,” Istart.
She shakes her head. “I’d be just as easily spotted as you. Our family is out, and sending a bodyguard is out.” Anyone in security might tell Farrow. I’m not taking thatrisk.
“I don’t trust your assistant,” I tell my mom before sheoffers.
“That’s fine,” she replies, drumming her mug in thought. “Um…let me think. You scroll.” She waves me back to thecomputer.
Jane asks about gemstones, but I don’t see Farrow preferring a diamond or black sapphire. I think he’d want simple andsleek.
“I’ve got it.” My mom whips to me. “Your Uncle Garrison. He’ll easily be able to go to a jeweler’s without media attention. I’ll make him swear not to tell a soul. He won’t. He loves you toomuch.”
Yeah.
Yeah.That could work. You know very little about Garrison Abbey and his wife Willow Hale. They’ve managed to dodge the media here and there for the last two decades. No one stands outside their Philly loft unless paparazzi catch a more famous family member entering thebuilding.
They don’t have bodyguards or daily magazine spreads about them. A few times a year, they pop up in an article. Sometimes more if they’re hanging with us, but no one will follow him. No one will care that he’s at a jewelrystore.
This could work. I’m hanging onto thathope.
27
MAXIMOFF HALE
“He’s late. Membership revoked,”Kinney declares. She ties her bowling shoes at our circular booth, dyed black hair cascading over her bonyshoulders.
Both Oscar and Farrow asked me why Kinney is so intensely fixated on the Rainbow Brigade club. They’re all used to Blasé Kinney. Not Drill Sergeant Kinney who’d put a wooden stake through your heart if you fucked with herplans.
I think my sister wants to feel more included with the older crew. Especially those of us who can go to gay bars and events. She’s been left out a lot. During a Pride Festival, I went to an 18+ club and she was kind ofbummed.
As her older brother, I want this first-ever Rainbow Brigade meet-up to go smoothly. That meant renting out the entire venue for thenight.
The upscale boutique bowling alley has ten lanes, gourmet snacks that can be ordered at the bar, and burgundy leather booths that are more hipster than family-style. Rainbow streamers cascade from the ceiling for Pride Month, andlove is lovecoasters sit underneath ourdrinks.
I knew Kinney would be less-than-thrilled that Farrow got held up at work. But he’s only fifteen minutes late—and she’s already going for thejugular.
“You can’t kick him out for being late,” I say seriously. “He’s at the hospital.” It’s not like Farrow is intentionally skipping this. He wishes he could be here right now, and if she wants to give someone a hard time, I’d much rather she take out her frustration on me thanhim.
“Fine. Probation period,” Kinney says, yanking at her shoelace with extraforce.
Oscar Oliveira stacks artisanal cheese on a cracker and eats it in one bite. He licks honey off his thumb and says, “Redford will lovethat.”
I notice the popped buttons on Oscar’s navy button-down reveal a script tattoo along his collarbone. Inked on his golden-brown skin are two Latin phrases:astra inclinant, sed non obligantandnon ducor,duco.
I can admit that I’m not well-versed in Latin without reference help. Like the internet. I just won’t admit that toFarrow.
“Did Donnelly ink those?” I ask Oscar and motion to hiscollar.
“No no no,” Oscar shakes his head. “Guy has talent, but he’s not putting a needle to my flesh.” Before I ask what the tattoos mean, he motions to the top line. “The stars incline us, they do not bind us.” Bottom line, he tells me, “The motto of São Paulo:I am not led, I lead.” He picks up his buzzing phone, frowns at a message and flashes me thescreen.
Ask Maximoff for updates. I’m texting him. I don’t have time to text both of you.–Farrow
