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“Guys,” says Violet. “Who. Is. Delilah?”
“Delilah is Seth’s ex-girlfriend,” Charlie explains. “They dated for six years. The last two of high school and all of college.”
Violet looks over her shoulder at Delilah, then back at Charlie.
“Seth didn’t take the breakup well,” Daniel explains.
“He seems to have gotten over it,” Violet points out dryly.
Daniel and I just share a glance.
“Sure,” I say, as neutrally as I can.
“Okay,” Silas says, already taking charge. “Who here knows the target?”
“Delilah,” I remind him. I’ve got no affection for the woman, but target is just… unsettling.
“Who here knows Delilah?” he asks.
Daniel, Charlie, and I all raise our hands. June makes a face and half-raises hers, shrugging.
“Maybe?” she says.
“Okay,” Silas says. “Levi, you’re with me. Daniel, Charlie, you’re with Seth. June, Violet, and Adeline, you’re our sentries.”
“Question,” say Violet, half-raising her hand.
“Wait until the end, please,” Silas says. “Daniel and Charlie, go join Caleb with Seth. June, Violet, Adeline, your job is to roam the crowd and keep a line of sight on the— on Delilah. If she seems to be moving toward the building, engage her.”
“I didn’t bring my sidearm,” June says, sarcastically.
“In conversation, smartass,” Silas says. “Levi and I will post at the doors, and will be the last line of defense, ready to physically block her from entry until Seth has exited the premises. And if anyone sees Eli, send him to me. Violet, what was your question?”
“You answered it,” she says, taking a swig of her beer.
“You should also all keep an eye out for Caleb,” I tell them. “We don’t need him coming into contact with Delilah, either.”
Violet gasps, dramatically.
“Is that why they broke up?” she asks in a hushed voice.
“What? No,” says Daniel. “Caleb bore the brunt of the breakup, so he hates her the most. That’s all.”
“Ahh,” says Violet, finishing off the last of her beer. “Okay, team. Let’s go!”
She fist-pumps into the air and turns, already looking for Delilah. I glance down at June.
“You good?” I ask, half-smiling. She looks back up at me, face serious.
“Yep,” she says, then looks away and something inside me tightens, just a twitch.
I need to tell Silas. I do. I will.
“Levi. C’mon,” Silas says, and June turns away, walks after Violet. I watch her as she crosses the patio, weaving between tables, then finally catches up to Violet near the edge of the lawn, saying something into the other girl’s ear.
“Coming,” I answer, and we make our way to the door as Daniel and Charlie go through, giving us conspiratorial eyebrow raises as they do.
Silas stands to one side of the door, and even though he’s holding a beer, he tucks his other thumb into his belt loop and stands practically at attention.
“You look like a bouncer,” I tell him, crossing my legs and leaning against the building. “Relax.”
“I am a bouncer,” he says. “I don’t know what happened, but I know she’s not getting into this building.”
“She’s a hundred and forty pounds soaking wet,” I tell him. “I don’t think she’ll be a problem if it comes down to that.”
Silas sighs, then takes his thumb from his belt loop, drinks his beer, and manages to look a little less like a cop.
“Can I ask you something about June?” he says, after a moment, as he scans the crowd, watching for a mop of red hair.
I feel like I’ve swallowed a cold steel spike.
“Of course,” I say.
“You guys seem like you’ve become friends,” he says.
Then he pauses, looks at me. My heart is beating like a thunderstorm, my nerves crackling.
This is it, I think. He knows.
I don’t have to tell him. He knows.
“After a fashion,” I say, and he looks away.
“Has she seemed weird to you this past week?” he asks, scanning the crowd again. “I mean, I know this whole situation with the ex-boyfriend and the getting fired and moving back home has been hard on her, but she’s seemed really, I don’t know, anxious for the past week.”
My heart slows, and I take a sip of my half-empty beer, partly relieved that he still doesn’t know, wishing that he did so this could be over.
“Maybe a little,” I say. “Though I don’t see her often. Not often enough to know if she’s acting strange, certainly. I don’t see her nearly that often. No.”
I drink more beer so I stop talking.
June has been acting a little weird, but I’m fairly certain it’s because she’s waiting to hear back after her phone interview last Monday. The one with the paper in South Dakota.
My chest constricts at the thought, and I look away, pretending to keep an eye out for red hair. Every day that passes without her hearing back, I feel a little lighter, a little more like I get to keep her a while longer.
Then, inevitably, I feel awful for feeling that way, for wishing ill on June’s ambitions.
