“Bro, I got that part. It’s still gross. This wasn’t yours.”
“It is now,” he says. “She only had like three bites before she gave it to me.”
So gross. So fucking gross. I rub my hand down my pants, wishing I had some sanitizer right now. Love Donnelly, but I don’t want to touch anything from someone who’d pay to spit in his mouth.
Jesse glances at us with a grimace. “Why did she want you to spit in her mouth?”
Donnelly shrugs. “I dunno. Said she thought the Ass-Kicker SFO bodyguard was hot. But pretty sure her friends dared her to do it.” He smiles. “Jokes on them. I got this.” He holds up the plate of funnel cake like it’s made of gold.
Know the feeling.
Don’t feel it now.
Donnelly’s attention deviates to the carousel. “Are those dragons?”
“Yeah.” Along with horses and boats, people can ride unicorns and dragons.
“Xander would’ve loved this.” Donnelly glances around at the amassing people, the sun beginning to drop behind the rides and food stands. “Not these crowds though. Fuck me, there are a lot people here.”
While Xander’s at home, SFO put a temp on his detail, letting Donnelly join the carnival’s security for the night.
Jesse nods to me. “I’m going to get a shot from the other side of the carousel.”
He leaves, and Donnelly stares at the bag on my shoulder for a long beat.
“Bro, just spit it out.”
“I was just thinking,” Donnelly says, “that Kitsuwon’s giant-sized manual clearly states not to carry production equipment for We Are Calloway. You a rulebreaker now or what?”
“Just a motherfucker in love.”
“With Jesse?” Donnelly quips, whipping his head to where the little Highland just left. One thing people never get right when they first meet Donnelly: he’s a smart motherfucker.
He plays dumb too well.
His smirk lands on me.
I let out a dry laugh. “That’d be funnier if you weren’t eating someone’s leftover funnel cake while you said it.”
He sticks out his tongue, showing off chewed up funnel cake.
I grin. “You are seriously disgusting, bro.”
He closes his mouth into a smile, and swallows down the rest of the food. Both of us suddenly grow quiet. An unspoken thing hanging.
Pinging and chiming sounds of carnival games and lively music from the nearby Tilt-A-Whirl fill the silence, but the strain isn’t dissolved. We’re dodging the unsaid topic. It sits between us like that funnel cake in his hands.
Crowds gather nearby around a ring toss stand. Tom and Eliot Cobalt bought giant bags of plastic rings and throw fistfuls at glass soda bottles.
When Donnelly focuses back on me, I just go ahead and ask, “How much money is Scottie taking from you?”
Donnelly chews slowly on the funnel cake. “He’s not taking anything. I’m givin’ it to him willingly.”
So Scottie did want money. I’m at least right on that one.
“Semantics aside,” I say. “Bro, how much?”
He shrugs.
“I’m not Redford,” I remind him. “You didn’t do me a solid. I didn’t put you up at Yale. And if that doesn’t convince you, I distinctly remember Redford calling you a viral mouth sore.”
“Yeah, but he said it so fondly. What’s not to love about being a viral mouth sore?” He laughs.
I smile. “Donnelly…”
“I give him my paycheck,” he finally admits with an easy nonchalance. Like that was never a big deal at all. But the weight of the statement hits me hard. Crashes against my chest.
I almost rock back.
“Fuck.”
“Nah, it’s all good. I’m picking up some jobs on the side. Look.” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a hand-drawn business card. Tattoos by Donnelly. On the back is his phone number. “Been passing these out all night.”
I wonder how many prank calls he’ll get.
But I also know there will be lots of people who want a tattoo from the Ass-Kicker SFO bodyguard. Still makes me nauseous that he’s essentially protecting Xander for free. Since he joined security, he’s been doing tattoos on his own time because he loved it. Not because he needed the money.
“Boyfriend’s here.”
It takes me a minute to realize Donnelly is talking about my boyfriend. Or I guess my husband. But that could change, so Jack’s like my short-term husband. Fuck, I hate even the sound of that.
Ugh. Need to come up with something better.
How about: Limited Edition Hottie Husband. Yeah, we’re going with that one. I pass the business card back to Donnelly as Jack approaches.
Jack’s eyes fall to the camera bag on my shoulders. “You shouldn’t be carrying that. Where’s Jesse?’
“It’s not a problem, Highland.” But I am passing him the bag anyway because the look in his eyes basically says give it to me now. “And he’s around the other side of the carousel.”
Comms light up in my ear. “Akara to Donnelly, head over to the ring toss. Eliot and Tom need extra security.”
“Cobalts who slay together, stay together,” Donnelly says as he leaves, throwing up a hand gesture that means love you.