He doesn’t say anything. Sulli looks to me for help.
“Nine, it was just head.”
He shoots me an annoyed look. “He gave a client head when she was eighteen.”
“She asked him to,” Sulli snaps. “And they’re still friends.”
“Exactly.” I lift my shoulders. “I’m with Sulli on this one. Forward and onward. No looking back.”
“How am I supposed to make decisions for the team without looking back?” Akara asks me. “I have to figure out who should be her full-time bodyguard, and this complicates crap.”
“Why?” I ask. “Were you planning to put Donnelly on her detail?”
“No, but I don’t know if she won’t ask her next young bodyguard for head—”
“She’s not like that Akara,” Sulli snaps angrily. “I can’t believe you’d even say that.”
“What am I supposed to think?!” he yells. “I don’t know what to do here!” Stress has been building up in him and he just breaks. Face shattering as he buries his anguish into his hands. Split open. He’s trying to restrain tears.
“Nine.” I come to his side. Pain wells up in my chest seeing him ripped apart.
Sulli comes to his other side. We both bend down and wrap our arms around him.
“It’s alright,” I breathe.
He’s tensed. Sulli holds tighter. He doesn’t shove us away, and he drops his hands, his eyes wet and face twisted. “Price was right to think I’m building a firm with a bunch of broken toys,” he says roughly. “I can’t make this work. The numbers don’t effing work.”
He’s trying to hold everything together for security, but it’s more than just the transfers. He’s now bleeding cash from every end, and on the other side of the library door, they have no clue about the sinking hole Akara is standing in—if they did, they never would’ve taken the raise.
Adding to his most recent expenses: all the extremely expensive stab proof vests he just bought for the company. The lightweight vests will protect from punctures and blades like glass from broken bottles, and depending on the threat, we’ll be required to wear them instead of the bulletproof vests. And hell, I understand it was a necessary cost, seeing as it might have saved Akara that day at the hotel.
I can’t fix the financial problem. What I have to give is pennies compared to what he needs.
“I can pay off your credit cards,” Sulli suddenly offers.
“No, Sul—”
“Just once your credit is good again and we go over your books—then we can talk about you paying me back, if you fucking have to. I want to help you—let me help you.”
Akara breathes in those last words. “I’ll pay you back.”
“I know you’ll fucking want to,” she nods. “Just don’t do it too soon.”
He exhales, then nods. “Thank you.” He bows his head, thinking. “The transfers.”
I can help solve the transfer puzzle.
Then it hits me.
“Put Frog on Luna’s detail,” I tell him.
“What?” Akara frowns. “She’s barely good enough to be a temp.”
Sulli meets my eyes. “No, Banks is right, Kits. You said yourself that Frog loves being on Luna’s detail. Luna likes Frog. They’re buddyguard compatible.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “Add a temp with Frog if it’ll make it better. Keep Gabe as the floater. Quinn goes to Baby Ripley.”
Akara stares at the ground, rubbing his swollen eyes. “It could work. But it still leaves my gym without a manager.”
We all grow quiet. Unsaid truths swinging in the air. Studio 9 has been more of a thorn in Akara’s side than any bodyguard transfer decision. He won’t sell, and Sulli and I won’t tell him to abandon the legacy of his family.
Sulli nudges Akara’s shoulder. “Maybe the Oliveiras have a friend who’d be interested in the job?”
Akara stares faraway. “I’ll figure this one out.” He glances between Sulli and me. “Thanks for the rest. I needed it.”
I say, “That’s what we’re here for.”
Sulli gives him a tight hug.
Among these stately bookcases—like I’m back in Warwick University’s massive library—the three of us find ourselves on the ground. Not ready to leave that quickly.
Sitting in a circle, we pass the bucket of popcorn around.
“Nemo,” Akara says.
I almost choke on a kernel. “Like Finding Nemo?”
“Yeah.” He fits a baseball cap on backwards, his face dried of tears. “I used to love that movie when I was a kid.”
I bite onto a toothpick. “You get dropped on your head as a baby?”
“You know I’d ask the same of you, Banksy.”
“We’re not naming our kid after a fuckin’ goldfish.”
Sulli elbows me with a smile. “He was a clown fish.”
“Even worse,” I say. “Poor little guy will get teased mercilessly.”
Akara throws a popcorn kernel at me. “You’re the one that wants to name her Ariel after The Little Mermaid.”
“She’s a Disney princess,” I refute. “Not a clownfish.”
“Is it bad luck to pick out a name so early?” Sulli asks as Akara passes her the tub.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Never had a kid before.”