Page 91 of Alphas Like Us
Akara looks up from the leather couch. “I know,” he says, clutching a Lucky’s Diner paper coffee cup, “I can’t figure out which one it is.” He motions with his index finger to the mound of boxes and envelopes. Packages are scattered across the coffee table and the hardwoodfloors.
Wicker laundry baskets, that aren’t used for laundry, line the brick wall. A name written on a travel tag is attached to each one. And a heavy-duty trash bag hangs off the fireplacemantel.
The smell stings my nose. “I’d say it’s rancid, but I’m not sure that’s the right word.” I step over Quinn’s spread of packages that pile up at thedoor.
“It’s probably food,” Quinn says, slicing through a cardboard box with a utilityknife.
“Even spoiledfood doesn’t smell like that, little bro,” Oscar replies, ripping open a manila envelope. He’s seated on a leather barstool at our high-top table. Security’s furniture is more comfortable and lesspastelthan everything in the neighboringtownhouse.
And it’s not a surprise that Oscar is in Philly. Or Donnelly, who straddles the armrest and flips through a few letters. All of SFO spent the night since Charlie and Beckett are crashing in Jane’s room, and Sullivan is asleep in Luna’s bedroom nextdoor.
We all stayed out late for trivia night at Saturn Bridges. Maximoff said most of his cousins would normally pass on those invites. But Charlie showed. Beckett showed, and so did Sulli andLuna.
Whenever they all assemble together, Omega inadvertently gathers. And very fucking soon, my role with the famous ones and security will shift drastically. I don’t try to predict how it’llfeel.
All I know is that I’ve never been afraid of the great unknown, but I’m definitely cautious going forward since I’m leaving more things behind thanusual.
I pluck latex gloves out of a box. Every guy already wears a pair. Mail day is a minefield of the good, the bad, and thedisgusting.
Oscar unfolds a letter. “Dear Charlie,” he reads. “Get Well Soon.” He crumples the letter and free-throws it into the hanging trashbag.
“Cold,” Donnelly says, reaching for a yellowmailer.
Thatcher glances up from a letter he’s been reading. “Charlie doesn’t want to read his fanmail?”
“The guy rarely does.” Oscar balls another letter. “I’ve been instructed to destroy allcondolences.”
I snap on my gloves and tuck one-fifth of Maximoff’s mail under my arm. Drumsticks lie next to a carton of to-go coffees. I frown and pick up a wooden drumstick. “What’s with these?” I askAkara.
He answers while texting. “Some teenage girl mailed them tome.”
That makes little sense. “How does the public know you were on thedrumline?”
To my knowledge, most personal facts about SFO haven’t been unearthed. Especially since we deleted our socialmedias.
Then again, I haven’t been actively checking social media threats or keeping in touch with tabloid shit. When my relationship went public, I relinquished that responsibility to the techteam.
Just making that choice made me realize I was already pulling away fromsecurity.
Akara looks up from his phone. “Did you know Brock Carson from highschool?”
“Never talked to that debate nerd, no.” I twirl the drumstick between myfingers.
“That debate nerd posted our yearbook on Reddit.” Akara returns to texting. “There’s a whole thread trying to find info on ‘Maximoff Hale’s boyfriend’ and they spotted me in the yearbook’s bandsection.”
I roll my eyes. Not thrilled that people are digging this hard into my past. I consider myself a fairly private person. Not many ever step into my business unless I let them. But I chose to be a public figure. I’ve known how invasive this couldbe.
Still, the creep factor isreal.
“Let me guess,” I say, walking backwards to the open barstool opposite Oscar, “my senior photo is floating around the internet.” I had green hair in thatpicture.
“All over,” Akaranods.
Predictable.
I drop the mail onto the high-top table in aheap.
“Boyfriend’s going to love that photo,” Oscar says to me, being serious. I hold onto that fact and almostlaugh.
