Charming Like Us (Like Us 7)

It seems callous to continue denying the obvious.

“We’ll always be friends,” I tell him.

A smile reaches his eyes, and then he captures my pawn in a casual move. “I hope Jack will still do the show,” he says. “I know how much it means to him, and that does mean something to me.”

I sigh and shift my king. “Yeah, but I think it’s bigger than what you or I want.” I meet his yellow-green eyes. “If he ends up scraping it, he’s not going to be around as much.” It cuts me up to lose out on some moments, on traveling together, but I knew it might come to that if he’s not filming Charlie anymore. “Especially since you’re barely on We Are Calloway.”

Charlie smiles. “Just ask me, Oscar.”

“Ask you what?” I barely try to play coy.

We share a smile, knowing what’s coming. “Alright, Charlie,” I say into a bigger smile. “Would you consider being on We Are Calloway more?”

Charlie’s grinning wider. “You hate having the cameras around. You’re always complaining about them getting in your way.”

“Still hate that,” I laugh. “But I love him.”

“Love,” Charlie muses into a sad smile, almost longing. Wishing. I wish I could help open that door for him one day.

So he can reach the love of his life sooner rather than later.

He asks, “What’s the difference between me being on We Are Calloway more and Jack just going ahead with the pilot? He’s still filming me in both scenarios.”

I asked the same question in my head. “That’s why guys like you and me,” I tell Charlie, “shouldn’t be producers.”

His lip curves. “Are you saying I lack a sense of morality?” Yes.

“I’m saying we both have our failings,” I tell him. “Check.”

This morning, he had a conversation with Maximoff about H.M.C. Philanthropies. With Ernest being officially gone from the company, the board instated Charlie as interim CEO. But Charlie has no desire to stay in that position.

I was there when he said to Maximoff, “It’s yours, if you want it. If not, you can find someone else to fill the role. It’s not something I want to do forever.”

Maximoff nodded slowly. “I have to think about it.”

“I knew you would,” Charlie said into a laugh.

“Did you really do it for me?” Maximoff wondered.

Charlie paused for a moment. “Yes and no.” He shrugged. “I hated Ernest, and I wanted him gone. But also…the company is yours. You should have never been fired in the first place, and it would have been a tragedy not to course correct.”

Maximoff hugged him, and they kept hugging for a long beat. Farrow and I shared an eased look because our clients were at peace with each other. Can’t beat love, in all forms, all kinds—and after a big dose of drama, all I want to do is surround myself in that feel-good, can’t sleep, gotta keep my ass awake to sing the night away, kind of love.

In the garden, I watch Charlie study the chess board. It’s those soft moments people don’t see. The ones I cherish from Charlie. It’s why I trust he’ll find his way.

He defends his king with ease in two simple moves. His eyes return to me. “I’m fine with being on We Are Calloway more often. But the offer to film me traveling for a personal videography project still stands,” Charlie tells me. “I know he probably won’t take it because he wants a network deal. But it’s on the table.”

I don’t ask whether it’s something he really wants for himself or if he’s just trying to help my work schedule overlap with Jack’s.

It doesn’t matter because I doubt Jack would agree to it.

“I’ll let him know,” I say. “There’s one more thing. I have an idea, but I might need your help.” There’s something I need to do for Jack. Like all the other options, he might not take it. But I won’t stop myself from at least trying to patch-up the holes in his boat of dreams and right it back to shore.

“I’m listening.” Charlie moves his queen and it’s staring down my king. “Checkmate,” he says.

I’m not even that mad about it. Honestly, I love playing chess against Charlie.

He’s the only person who’s ever been able to beat me.

43

JACK HIGHLAND

“I burned it.”

Oscar blinks. “Come again?”

“I burned it, Os,” I repeat in a whisper. “Like it’s currently a pile of ash in a trashcan at my office.” The curtains haven’t been drawn for the ballet yet, but we’re still sitting in Charlie’s boxed seat. He pretends not to listen one row below us.

“All of it?” Oscar asks, studying my face.

All the days we spent together in Philly, New York, California, France, Greenland, Austria. It’s charred to a crisp. That was the hardest part. Knowing that I was burning some of our memories.

But I couldn’t store the footage if I’m not filming Born into Fame anymore. It’s not safe to keep any video clips of Charlie when someone could get ahold of them. And that person might not have the same feelings or intentions as me.