FARROW KEENE
“OSCAR! FARROW! PAUL!” Fans and paparazzi shriek as we squeeze through pushing crowds, cameras flashing and glaring in the night.
None of us politely wave like we’re English dignitary or play “best friends” with strangers. It’s almost like we’re back at Yale together, bar hopping and staying unbothered by the drunk fuckers who try to start shit.
With no hassle, I unpocket a set of keys and unlock the storefront of Superheroes & Scones. Closing hours at the hybrid comic book coffee shop is the only time we can really consider going off-duty here.
We slip inside the empty store, and I lock out the screaming.
“Who’s Paul?” Oscar banters, tying a rolled bandana around his forehead.
I laugh into a widening smile, and Donnelly blows him a middle-finger kiss. I flip on the lights. Illuminating red and blue vinyl booths and racks of comics and merch.
But we go quiet at another sight.
Silver buffet trays line the café bar counter, and the unmistakable scent of breakfast clings to the air. My eyes burn with emotion.
Wolf scout.
My chest uplifts in a deeper breath. There’s no one else who’d surprise me with a catered spread of my favorite foods. He’s not even here yet, and he’s already made my 29th birthday memorable.
Oscar smiles. “You lucky bastard.”
“Jealous?” My lips rise, and we both watch Donnelly near the catered trays.
“Yeah. I miss being in a serious relationship. Sex is great and easy to find, but it’s nothing without the rest.”
“No shit.” I’ve never been into no-strings attached situations. It works for some people, but definitely not for me. I like having a boyfriend.
And I love being in a relationship with Maximoff.
Oscar outstretches his hand to the counters. “I can’t even find one person to toast me a fucking piece of bread, and your guy is buying you IHOP on steroids.”
“I’ll butter your bread, man,” Donnelly jokes.
I let out a laugh.
“Toast, Donnelly.” Oscar grins. “You can go butter Redford’s bread.”
I roll my eyes. “Keep me out of the 9 p.m. comedy routine. It’s not worth the dollar admission.”
They laugh.
Oscar squeezes my shoulder. “That’s right. Redford is taken.”
“For life.” Donnelly smirks, and their words crash into me with some kind of power. There won’t be a single year, a single month or day or minute where Maximoff and I aren’t together. I’ll have him as a partner for as long as we’re alive, and fuck, it overwhelms me.
I wipe my eye that wells up.
Oscar smiles at me, and I smile into a soft laugh. Yeah, to be honest, I didn’t know if I would find a love like this, but I wanted that pure, unshakable thing. And of course I want that someday for my friends.
Donnelly pops a buffet lid. “Bacon.” He shuts the lid with a clink and opens more. “Eggs benedict. Muffins. Oh shit, we’ve got some fancy pancakes.”
Oscar and I are grinning, and we head to the counters. A “fancy pancake” to Donnelly apparently includes fruit and crumbled nuts.
We grab plates and silverware, not waiting for other people to arrive since this is a casual, relaxed affair. Anyone can come and go as they please. Plus, we’re all used to eating when we can in case we’re pulled away.
Radios are still attached to our waistbands. Even my earpiece is still in my ear, the volume higher than usual.
We’re vigilant and attuned to the fact that the new company is understaffed. Being off-duty for my birthday means “green temps” are on our clients. Except I drew the lucky straw, and Banks Moretti is on Maximoff’s detail right now.
It was the best birthday present Akara could’ve given me.
I pile piping hot scrambled eggs, bacon, and oatmeal on my plate. Plus, mixed fruit and a banana.
We settle at a booth: Oscar and Donnelly on one side, and across from them, I stretch my legs out on the seat. Leaning against the window, blinds shut, and I shake a Vitamin-C powdered mix into a water bottle.
I was with Maximoff at the aquatic center earlier, but I had a med call. Strep outbreak at the Cobalt Estate. Audrey and Ben are now both on antibiotics. I’ve built up a rock-solid immune system from all my rounds at the hospital, but I still like taking some precautions.
“Best bacon.” Oscar crunches into a strip.
“Nah, the biscuits are better.” Donnelly licks jelly off his thumb.
I look between them and nerves clench my muscles. Shit, this is a weird feeling. I grind the back of my molars and shake my water bottle. I don’t get nervous that often.
See, I didn’t need to think long about who I want as my best man. Who’s going to stand beside me while I marry Maximoff. It’s a simple decision. Easy even.
The problem: asking Oscar and Donnelly to be my groomsmen and telling one of them that he’s above the other for this event.
In a way, it’s outwardly admitting how much they both mean to me. I’ve never made some big dramatic deal out of our friendship. And I’m not sure how much it’ll bruise one of them knowing they’re not my best man.
I don’t want to hurt either of them.
I open my mouth.
Bang!
I sit up off the window. It sounded like hands or knees just smacked into the glass.
Oscar and Donnelly eagle-eye the window too, and I pry down a blind with my fingertip. Peering out, teenagers pound their fists on the tinted glass. They can’t really see inside, even if we can see out.
“FARROW!” they wail. “FARRROOWWW!”
I release the blind, and we return to breakfast for dinner. But the air is tense as we eat.
“It’s going to get worse, Redford,” Oscar says, eyeing the door and then me. He cuts his eggs benedict with a fork and knife. “We Are Calloway hasn’t even aired yet.”
The first episode broadcasts on the premium cable channel tonight. We’re planning to watch the docuseries here, and I hope Maximoff can make it to Superheroes & Scones before it begins.
I’ve seen most of the footage I’m in. Cleared the clips with production. But fuck, it’ll be strange to be on TV alongside the Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts.
I dig into the scrambled eggs. “I don’t mind the screaming fans.” They’ve always been a part of Maximoff’s world, and if I couldn’t handle that shit, we wouldn’t be as good as we are together.
Oscar and Donnelly share a look.
I wash my eggs down with a swig of water. “What?” I frown.
Oscar reaches for the salt and peppershaker. “Donnelly told me you were offered to be on the cover of Out Loud Magazine, and you rejected it.”
I glance at Donnelly. “Man, that wasn’t that important to share.”
He swigs orange juice. “I’m a straight boy—”
“We’re well aware.”
“So I just thought Oscar might think it’d be important.”
Oscar jumps in. “It is important, Farrow.”
I groan and lean back against the window, abandoning my eggs. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re making this into a bigger deal than it is.”
“Did you even think about it for more than half-a-second?” Oscar wonders. “Or did you just go with your gut—which obviously said no.”