Infamous Like Us (Like Us 10)

“Fuck if I know,” I tell him. “You’re the one that makes the decisions.”

He rubs the back of his neck, tensed.

Shit. What would Thatcher do? He’d be brainstorming with Akara—coming up with a Master Plan. I think fast and smack his chest. “Put Quinn on Baby Ripley’s detail. He’s good with kids. It’s what you were gonna do before he broke his leg anyway.”

“Then who goes to Luna? I can’t keep temps on her forever.”

I reach in my pocket for a cigarette like second nature, but I pull out a toothpick instead. No cigarettes on me. No smoking. Still haven’t fucked that up since I quit after the frat party. “Are any temps good enough yet?”

He shakes his head.

“Gabe?”

“Then there’s no floater.”

“Do we need one?”

“Yeah, the roster is too small,” Akara says. “You were the best floater we had.”

My stomach roils. “Alright, then send me back.”

He glares. “I won’t. I can’t.”

It’ll make his life easier if I’m punted off Sulli’s detail. Returned to the position I excel in. Floating around. Lending help wherever I can. But it’ll mean seeing her less. Seeing him less.

I don’t argue with Akara because deep-down, I don’t want it. I want her. And fuck, I’m not falling on my sword for the team.

Aware of the complete fucked situation he’s in, I place a hand on his shoulder. “Beer.”

He locks eyes with me. “Beer,” he agrees.

Leaving the bedroom, we run into Sulli outside the door, and it takes less convincing to get her to join the party. We all stroll out into the living room.

And then we skid to a sudden stop.

The TV is broadcasting an episode of Suddenly Famous, the limited docuseries about Jack & Oscar. We missed the premiere while we were in L.A., so Omega wanted to throw a small watch-party at the penthouse. On screen, Jack speaks to the camera with a megawatt smile, but I can’t hear what he’s saying over the argument blasting off in the middle of the room.

Oscar and Farrow stand opposite Donnelly.

Beanbags, spilt popcorn, cat toys and baby toys scatter the floor. Among the furniture and chaos are Jack, Maximoff, Baby Ripley, Jane, Thatcher, Gabe, and Quinn—a full house. And everyone but the Yale boys are quiet as hell.

“I’m figuring it out,” Donnelly says strongly. “You’re both making this into something it’s not.”

“Bro, you can’t keep doing what you’re doing,” Oscar replies just as forcefully. “It’s not sustainable.”

“I’m sustaining fine.”

“You’re not,” Farrow says with heat. “You look like a ghost, man. How much weight have you lost?”

Donnelly rakes a hand back and forth over his head. “I’m fine. You have nuthin’ to worry about.”

How are they not yelling? House I grew up in—you ask someone for a beer and the decibel shoots to blown-eardrum levels. An actual fight? We sound like hyenas.

The Yale boys are relatively calm but intense.

“See, I have everything to worry about,” Farrow says. “You can’t lay down on railroad tracks and expect me not to pull you off.”

Akara mutters under his breath, “What the heck did we miss?”

“A fuck ton, apparently,” I whisper.

Sulli has her fingers to her lips, wide-eyed.

“I’m going to pull myself off,” Donnelly assures him. “Just give me some time, man.”

“We’ve given you months,” Farrow says, eyes growing and reddening. “Just take what I’m offering.”

Donnelly grimaces. “I’m not takin’ your money, Farrow.”

He needs money. We’ve known he’s been tattooing on the side. Not the biggest fuckin’ revelation for me or Akara.

“Take my money,” Oscar offers.

“I’m not taking yours either, Jesus.” Donnelly paces, about to turn his back to them, but he swings forward to say, “You two married into money—you know how happy that makes me? And not because I want a thing from you. So stop offerin’ shit to me.”

“You’re in this situation because of me.” Farrow points at his chest. “Let me get you out, Donnelly.”

“I chose this, man. I knew what I was doing, and not so you could bail me out in the end.”

I lean a shoulder into Akara’s. “We just walked into some deep shit.”

“Yep.” Akara lets out a breath.

Me or him, one of us, spoke too loudly and heads whip in our direction. Including Farrow, Donnelly, and Oscar’s.

“You want to do this in front of the boss?” Donnelly asks his friends.

Neither have time to react. Akara is already speaking. “Hey, you can tell me what’s going on. I can help you.”

Oscar says, “He doesn’t want anyone’s help, Kitsuwon.”

“That’s the problem,” Farrow chimes in.

Donnelly slips a cigarette behind his ear and comes clean like it really is nothing. “I’m giving my paycheck to Scottie.”

What?

“Your whole paycheck?” Akara is stunned.

Donnelly just nods.

Sulli’s jaw slowly unhinges.

Shit, I didn’t think it was that bad, and we were Donnelly’s roommates.

By the lack of shock in the room, I’m guessing the three of us are the last to find out. Except Gabe—Gabe Montgomery is confused as fuck.