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I’m too surprised to laugh.
“Let’s go,” Lo says to me, trying to usher me out of the office.
I hesitate and look to Connor.
“He’s going to have his way,” Connor says simply. “So go with him, but just know, this isn’t a good choice. If you’re to gain his trust, Sean shouldn’t think you’re close to any of us.”
“He won’t,” Lo assures. “I’m dropping off my son’s bodyguard. He’s not a friend. He’s not family. He’s a bodyguard. That’s it, Connor.”
Why does he want to drive me so badly?
It’s a question I don’t ask now. Not when it looks like we’ll have a whole car ride alone together.
7
PAUL DONNELLY
Loren Hale’s car isn’t exactly his car.
He ditched his red Bugatti. Too ostentatious, and paparazzi have an easier time tracking him. So we’re in the car Lo and Lily gifted Kinney in October. A black Mini Cooper. It’s the car that Kinney told Xander she loved, but she figured her parents would want her to drive their mom’s old BMW until she’s older.
They surprised Kinney on her 16th birthday. Xander was the one who made sure they knew which car she had her eye on.
Thinking about Xander right now isn’t good for the soul. I can’t help but think I should be on-duty. Protecting him. He’s at school with the Delilah rumors circulating. His senior year is a time he won’t forget for bad reasons now.
And I don’t even know how angry he is at me for trying to date his sister.
Last I heard, Gabe is the one floating over to my position. Being replaced doesn’t make me feel great. Not even for a day. An hour. It’s just gonna make it easier to replace me for real.
The Mini Coop is snug, and I watch Lo navigate the roads to South Philly in silence. Security is split in two other vehicles. One tails us, and the other is coming from another direction, trying to be more unseen.
Lo told me to “relax” when we got in the car.
Doing this thing called listening to Loren Hale is as comfortable as wet socks, but I can’t say he’s thrown me to the wolves yet, not when he’s sitting beside me in the driver’s seat.
I give him another once-over. The fourth one since we left the Cobalt Estate.
“If you want to keep staring at me, we can make a pitstop and get you a magazine,” he says, hands tight on the steering wheel. “Pretty sure I’m in at least two at the grocery store checkout.”
“Figured you’d be used to staring.” I rotate back to the windshield.
“Being used to it doesn’t mean I like it.”
My mind is stirring up dust. “What’d you want—to chaperone me? Keep an eye on me? Look out for me?” I turn to him again. “Why drive me?”
“All of the above, Paul.” He flashes a half-smile.
I lean back, trying to accept that as an answer, even if it doesn’t feel like one. “Alright, Xander’s dad.”
He makes a noise, sounding like a trapped laugh. And then he takes a sharp right turn. We’re nearing my old neighborhood. I picked a neutral spot for lunch. Not one of my favorites. I don’t need my dad ruining the greats. It’s just a deli with a couple benches outside.
My nerves start getting the better of me, and Connor is right—it’s better if my dad doesn’t spot Lo. “Stop here, I can walk the rest.” I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“No. I’m dropping you off.”
I don’t listen. I open the door of the moving car.
“Jesus Christ.” Lo slams on the brakes, slowing down immediately, but I’m already hopping out, my feet catching the pavement with ease.
“See ya.” I shut the door.
Lo rolls down the window, glaring at me like a screw is loose. “Never do that again.”
I flash him the rock on gesture, not lingering.
He mutters something before driving away. He’ll likely do a loop, then find parking near the Acme. He’ll know when I’m done with lunch because of the wire.
He’ll be listening.
So will Connor Cobalt and security.
I wonder if they can hear my heart hammering. The only thing keeping me cool and calm is Luna. I picture her licking out a pudding cup and laughing. I picture her dancing to The Who with me. I picture her twirling a lightsaber and pretending to save Orion from invisible aliens.
I picture her lying in bed next to me. Gazing up at stars projected on her ceiling.
Memories aren’t all bad. Some comfort me. These ones also guide me.
She’s why I’m here.
I push back the brewing nerves while I stroll along the cracked sidewalk. Old brick shops line both sides of the street, apartments above them. I spot The Deli up ahead. That’s what it’s called by the way.
Just The Deli.
Like they couldn’t think of an adjective or a creative word. Hell, name it after a person and it’d have my stamp of approval.
