Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Charlie, we met at that thing back in June and hooked up. I’m pregnant. I would love to have you in this baby’s life. I can’t imagine you not being by my side during this time. I don’t need money. I just need you. Please contact me any way you can.
She left her full name, phone number, home address, Instagram and Twitter handle, and her TikTok account.
I hope in time Charlie can find someone who won’t manipulate their way into his life. But today is not that day.
Needing to give him the letter, I have to stay an aching distance from Jack. I realize Jesse is packing up the boom, and Jack is back on his phone.
Put the phone down, Highland.
I’m a foot from Charlie.
“Gabe to Oscar,” the new temp says over comms. “I’ve got a group of male beach volleyball players approaching.”
I click my mic, noticing the same thing. Two of the guys are also holding expensive professional-looking cameras, ones often used by paparazzi. I speak in comms. “Don’t let them near him.”
When I say him, I mean Jack.
Coming home from Greenland, I knew the best way to physically protect Jack, when I can’t, would be to hire a temp bodyguard.
Gabe has been assigned to his detail, and it’s been going well. Considering it’s only been seven days, I’m cautiously optimistic. Jack hasn’t had a head-on collision with paparazzi. Gabe’s even intercepted any and all projectiles. The Fizz Life soda can that was meant for Jack ended up bouncing off Gabe’s iron-man chest like the aluminum was air.
“Copy,” Gabe answers.
I focus on my client.
“Trash it,” Charlie tells me before I even offer the envelope.
“Read this one,” I advise. Just in case he somehow Houdini-ed into her pants without me realizing.
Charlie sighs, then plucks the envelope from my fingers.
My gaze veers back to Jack.
He’s pocketed his phone, camera in his anxious grip, and he asks his brother, “Can you grab some B-roll of the coast before we leave?”
Jesse looks longingly at the ocean. He must’ve thought he was finished working so he could go surf. But he nods to his brother. “For sure. You want aerial shots? I can go grab the drone?”
Jack rubs his forehead, only partially present. My chest knots, my gaze cutting between Jack and Charlie.
“Kuya?”
He snaps into focus. “You know what, I’ll get it. You’ve done a lot already. Go surf.”
“You sure?” He hesitates. “I don’t really mind—”
“Yeah. I have this.” He lifts up his camera. It seems heavier in his hands somehow.
“Thanks, Kuya.” Jesse bumps his brother’s fist and finishes packing up the boom kit. His eyes rest on his older brother for a beat longer. Like he can tell something’s up too.
“This is so fucking annoying,” Charlie mutters with an agitated breath. Balling up the letter, he tells me, “It’s a lie. We slept together in October, almost a year ago. I haven’t seen her since, definitely not at ‘a thing’ in June.” He uses air-quotes.
I nod, concluding as much.
Charlie catches me checking on Jack, who fits on a new camera lens. I expect some sort of wiseass comment from my client, but he pushes the green-tinted sunglasses to his head and tells me, “You can put Gabe on my detail and go off-duty. Did Jack not want to teach you how to surf?”
Yeah.
That was before the bad news, and Jack said that as a generalization. We didn’t think we’d have leisure time to splash in the fucking ocean together today.
Hearing Charlie’s words, Jack looks up from his camera at me. He still seems nauseous, and my stomach roils. With a breath, Jack says, “As much as I’d love to teach Oscar how to surf today, I have to grab this B-roll.” He finishes attaching the new lens.
I want to convince Jack to put the camera down. For one second. But who am I to talk? I can’t even utter the words, I’m going off-duty. Gabe, take my detail.
I sweep the beach with a quick glance. “I thought you were retired from being cupid,” I tell Charlie. “And aren’t you here for a fashion show?” We flew to California this morning specifically for some pop-up show he wanted to attend.
It’s grossly overpriced if anyone asks me.
Nobody needs to pay a fucking grand for a ripped T-shirt. But it’s not my money. Charlie can do what he wants.
“I am here for that.” Charlie shades his eyes with the sunglasses again. “But I can achieve multiple things at one time.”
Like your docuseries, I almost shoot back. He has multiple reasons for wanting a show centered around his life, and I still have zero clue his main motive for being filmed.
With angry Oslie stans demanding Jack be fired from We Are Calloway, I don’t love the fact that a hanging question mark is hovering over this other project. A project which means so much to him.