Page 36 of Crew Girl

Pretty much.

“First up,” Josh said, “I’ll be hosting the obligatory family dinner party for Grandad.”

Ryder, who always got twitchy when talk circled around the Regis power players, mimed kissing a ring. “Thanks for the life of luxury, Grandad.”

Josh ignored him. “Then it’s time for the real party. The one you’re invited to. I call it the ‘Young, Rich, and Depraved’ weekend.”

The boys leaned in. Josh jumped on a low table, loving the limelight. His temporary stage was probably an antique, but when your family owned an airline, what were a few scuff marks on an irreplaceable plank of wood from the eighteenth century? “We’ll start with Formula One go-kart racing.”

“Sick.” Ryder snapped his fingers.

“Then MMA lessons and a cage match.”

“Baller!” Perry shouted. Hilarious considering Perry freaked out if so much as a solitary hair on his head moved out of place. He probably saw it as a way to increase his followers.

“And finally,” Josh said, cuing a human drumroll from Baloo, “a private jet to Atlanta because… we’ve got backstage passes to see Kendrick!”

Everyone lost their shit. Even Cam. Because, well, backstage passes to Kendrick and a private jet? That wasn’t an invitation he’d get twice.

Teagan shot him a look of disbelief. “You’re going? You guys aren’t even friends.”

True. “It’s a team thing.”

“Right,” Teagan said, all sarcastic. “Is that why all of you were Quaid’s henchmen today? I didn’t think dumping loaded fries ingredients into someone’s car was your kind of thing.”

It wasn’t, but… he’d had to. “Look,” he started, figuring out the best way to explain the complex machinations of showing up for someone you’d probably never be friends with in real life. “Quaid’s a doofus, but we’re teammates. He asked for our help. He had his reasons. It would’ve been a dick move to say no.”

“Even though you knew it was wrong?”

She really didn’t get it. “Have you ever been on a team before?”

She scoffed. “Yes. Swimming, tennis, track—”

“Those are solo sports.”

“What’s your point?” she snapped.

He shrugged. He got it now. Why she didn’t understand. “I’m thinking someone’s only-child syndrome means she never learned how to play nicely with others.”

“That’s not—” She glared at him, huffing like a baby dragon trying to snort her first squirt of fire. He grinned.

She stomped off, like an only child who’d never learned how to play nicely with others.

He wished he knew how to help. He’d seen how much work she’d put into becoming a better cox. The guys had, too. But there was still a line between them she hadn’t figured out how to cross. It was probably one of those lessons you needed to figure out yourself. The hard way. Like he had. The less time spent with Josh Regis the better as far as he was concerned. But a backstage pass to Kendrick? It definitely took the edge off.

JOSH

Britney’s surprise lunch from Nobu—one of his favorite Michelin restaurants that she’d had choppered up to Easton—was going cold. His girlfriend quickly assessed the situation.

“What happened, babe? Didn’t the meeting with your grandfather go well?”

She, like him, had thought it was a given that he’d swan into his grandfather’s office—a boundary the junior Regis males weren’t allowed to cross until Viktor Regis, his grandfather, deemed them ready for The Succession Talk—and come out with his future assured.

He shook his head. Total disaster. “Regis drama at its finest.”

Brit dipped her head and smiled up at him, in a way that was clearly calculated to be submissive and supportive at the same time. “Drama is what our families are all about. Baloo made me spend about three hours going through his selfies trying to pick one for some guy he’s flirting with online.”

“I think this is a bit bigger than Baloo’s dating woes.”