A few days after Christmas I head out to one of the clubs with Jules and some of his boys because I know Tiller’s back and I feel pretty fucked in my head about Daisy still being with him and not me.
All that shit aside, Jo said that while they were away for Taura’s birthday it seemed like Beej and Parks were finally sorting themselves out, proper together and shit. As far as I’m concerned, that’s good news. Beej and Parks should be together — they’re opposite ends of magnets that destroy everything that drifts into their magnetic field. They’ll be together no matter what it is between them, I see that now. Wish I saw it before the top of my heart was lopped clean off by one such magnet, but anyway, fuck it.
I texted Jo for an update just before — because let’s be honest — BJ and Magnolia are our own private version of Made in Chelsea, except it’s probably called Made in Trauma — all Jo replied was “Shit’s fucked.”
Don’t know what that means. Whatever the fuck’s going on, I don’t really want to be a part of it at the minute. I’m painfully aware of how fucking single I am. Even though I’m technically not single, I guess. Not according to Vanna or any of the shit tabloids she runs her mouth to. I forgot about her over Christmas — I honestly didn’t think of her once. Pretty shit of me, I know. I didn’t hear from her til Boxing Day. I said I had plans even though the plans were really just me and Parks being miserable on my couch about how we love people who don’t love us back, but now maybe she’s flipped teams, that fucking traitor.
So I come out tonight to get drunk with the brother of the girl I love, but he’s fucking MIA — no idea where he’s gone. We’re at one of my brother’s clubs, so probably Jo’s office.
Julian loves an ‘office reprieve’ as we call them. Drugs or girls or both, some sort of debauchery always happens in the offices and Jules is usually right in the thick of it.
And then I hear arguing behind me and I look over.
“Magnolia, no—” Henry yells firmly. “Listen to me—” Henry holds her by the shoulders. Gives her a firm look. “No.”
“Move—” She tries to push past him as I walk over, frowning. When did they get here?
“Hey—” I nod my chin at them but neither of them say anything back.
“No! Magnolia, stop —” Henry shakes his head. “This isn’t the same, it’s not Rush or Jack-Jack—”
“Henry,” she growls. “Move.”
“Magnolia — listen to me—” Henry says in a low voice.
“What’s going on?” I frown at her.
“Henry’s being controlling,” Magnolia says at the same time Henry says, “Magnolia’s being insane.”
I look between them, confused. I could count on one hand the amount of times in my life I’ve seen these two fight.
“About what?” I look between them both.
And then from behind me, Kekoa steps forward and peers down at us all.
“There a problem here?”
“No—” Magnolia and me say at the same time, except that she precision-elbows Henry out of the way, pushes past me to stand toe-to-toe with the Pacific Islander giant.
I scrunch my face a bit, trying to work out what’s happening.
“I’m here for Julian,” she says, her shoulders square, trying to look brave but I know her too well and I can hear the waver in her voice. Spin around to face her, look her in the the eyes and I know mine are bugging out. Henry does this hand motion like he’s been vindicated, and all of it means fuck all because she’s ignoring us both.
“Are you just?” Koa smirks down at her, amused. “Who’s asking for him?”
Magnolia scoffs, annoyed and bored, shaking her head up at this tower of a man who —I’m not joking — when grown men see him, they walk the other way. He’s so fucking jacked he looks like he’s from a Marvel movie. He’s one of the most feared people in the world. My world, anyway — and it occurs to me that me and Jo might have shielded her too much. That she’s here, standing toe-to-toe with the bodyguard of a man who, until about four months ago, was wanted for kidnapping, assault, theft and murder.
“Don’t be stupid.” She crosses her arms impatiently. “I know you know who I am. You made me pancakes.”
Henry frowns more.
Kekoa smirks, amused. “I did.”
She shrugs, conceding.
“They were good.”
He shrugs, conceding to the fact. “They’re my speciality.”
“Yes, well, as spectacularly fluffy as they were—”
“It’s in the buttermilk,” he tells her.
“I’m actually not here for your specialty.” Magnolia gives him a look. “I need Julian’s.”
I look over at Henry and my eyes go wide as he shoves his hands through his hair, stressed. BJ’s going to fucking murder us.
“He’s expecting me,” she tells him, eyebrows up.
“Baby girl, I reckon he’s been expecting you for about five years—” Kekoa tells her with a look, then nods his head towards the offices. “Come on, I’ll take you up.”
I take a step towards Henry and whisper-yell, “What the fuck is going on?”
Henry grabs her wrist, shakes his head a tiny bit. “Just… the end of the world as we know it.”
She starts following Kekoa through the crowd.
“Text me when you get home,” Henry calls to her.
“I’m not going to go home, Hen,” she tells him solemnly.
And Henry, that poor bastard — he looks like he’s about to pass a fucking stone as he watches his best friend of twenty years disappear into the belly of the club.
I blink a few times. “So what did I miss?”
Henry rubs his temples. “A lot.”
