3
Harlow
“Hey, hey, it’sHarlow.” Justin Outerbridge, the seventeen-year-old embodiment of a hangnail, lifted a meticulously groomed brow and looked at Harlow like he was the class nerd who’d just strolled out of the bathroom with toilet paper trailing from his shoe. He tucked his hands into the back pockets of jeans that clung so tightly to his legs that Harlow worried for his circulation. “What’s up, H-man? If you’re here, that means the party’s about to start. Where’s our star?”
“Oh my god, Justin, my head’s going to get huge if you keep saying things like that,” Evie said as she entered the room behind Harlow. Now that she’d arrived, he stepped to the side to let her pass.
Experience had taught Harlow that engaging with Justin wasnota good idea. His sense of entitlement bordered on diva, and he wasn’t opposed to acting uncomfortable or even hurt by simple confrontation. That in itself wouldn’t have been enough to deter Harlow from telling Justin to buzz off, but Justin’s bodyguard, Prince, didn’t take shit from anyone, and Harlow preferred to keep their working relationship positive. At six-and-a-half feet tall and as thick with muscle as a double fridge, the choice wasn’t difficult to make. While Harlow was confident that he could walk away from a fight with Prince with all his limbs still intact, he wasn’t eager to test his hypothesis. It was easier to keep friends than it was to deal with enemies.
So instead of engaging Justin, Harlow sank into position against the wall Prince occupied and watched as Evie giggle-snorted at something Justin had to say.
“H,” Prince said gruffly. He uncrossed his arms from over his chest, but didn’t take his eyes off Justin. Harlow kept watch on him from the corner of his eye. “’Sup?”
“Same old,” Harlow replied. “You?”
“Same.”
A few feet away, Justin lifted his chin in the obnoxious way he did whenever he was doing his best to flatter someone and smiled at Evie like she was a prized buck he was about to mount on his mantle. “I’m so glad you’re here now, Eves. It’s been a snooze-fest without you.”
“Naw, you’re just saying that.” Evie tucked her hands behind her back and leaned toward him an almost imperceptible amount. “I mean, Tristan is here. He’s really cool. You could have hung out with him.”
“I’m not just saying it. You’ve got this way of lighting up a room—you’re absolutelymagnetic.” Justin winked, his baby-blue eyes a trap. Harlow clenched his teeth and watched silently, but knew better than to intervene. Evie was old enough to make her own choices about the friends she kept and the relationships she maintained—Harlow wouldn’t deny her that—but seeing his daughter proclaim to be “BFFs” with a kid Harlow knew was trouble irked him. She was too good for him. Way too good. “One of these days, you’re going to flip the poles, and the world’s going to revolve around you instead. When you’rethatawesome, how can anyone else compare?”
Justin’s voice was so slick, it sounded greasy. Harlow internally cringed. Evie, who had much more patience for him, redirected the conversation—she punched his shoulder, then, grinning, said, “You’re sweet. How was your flight in? I was bummed we weren’t on the same plane. Did you see Talia’s tweet?”
The conversation devolved from there. Harlow tuned it out and scanned the room instead, passing from one face to the next. Evie and Justin weren’t the only ones present—Kevin Lopp, who played Archangel Barachiel, was in attendance, as well as Heidi Savos, who played Haraleah’s mother, Chrynna. Tristan Ainsfield, who played Michael, watched Evie and Justin quietly from across the room—he stood beside his bodyguard, Cameron. Tristan was Evie’s and Justin’s age, and Harlow believed him to be a good kid—the kind he wished that Evie would gravitate toward and call her “BFF.” The last person on the panel was Alyssa Dunbar, who’d appeared in a few episodes as Haraleah’s best friend. She stood off to the side, casually thumbing the screen of her phone, her long brown hair ironed straight.
“Think this is gonna be a shit-show?” Prince asked under his breath, the gruffness of his voice like static.
“No. We’ve got it covered.” Harley kept his eyes on Evie, who was laughing, but whose shoulders were tense. No matter how she tried to hide it, the signs were all there—something was eating at her. “I have a team stationed in the surrounding area and some undercover ops out in the crowd. It’s going to be smooth sailing.”
“You’re paranoid,” Prince scoffed.
Harlow shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. That’s my little girl out there, P. My life, my sunshine, my world. Seeing her happy and healthy is my number one priority… if that means going a little overboard with security, then I’m fine with it. And if it means I help keep the rest of the cast safe, even better. I don’t want her to lose anyone ever again.”
Prince chuckled. “Bleeding Heart Harlow. Fuck.”
“Didn’t earn the nickname out of the blue.” Harlow grinned. He glanced in Prince’s direction, then looked back at Evie. She gestured at the nearest wing, likely telling Justin all about how she planned to make her grand entrance. “Just don’t go soft on me. If anything does go down, I’d rather have you expecting it than it taking you by surprise.”
“Not gonna be an issue.” Prince rolled his shoulders. “I’m always ready.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Harlow arched a brow playfully and his grin grew. He was about to make another comment when an organizer entered the room and began to usher the celebrity guests toward the right wing. As Evie moved, Harlow followed at a respectful distance. His conversation with Prince came to an end.
“See you some other time,” Prince said in parting, slapping Harlow on the back on the way by. He followed Justin onto the stage, the rich melanin of his skin gleaming beneath the spotlights. Where Prince went, Harlow did not follow. The stage wasn’t for him, and he didn’t want it to be—it belonged to Evie. She shined without his assistance, unlike Justin, who used Prince in the same way Evie used bright lipstick or thick, eye-catching belts.
As the celebrity panelists occupied the stage, Harlow ducked out a side door and settled into a reserved seat by the exit door, positioned so that he could watch the stage and the audience at the same time. Five hundred faces were turned to look his daughter’s way, and if even one of them looked at her with ill intent, Harlow would put a stop to it.
He hadn’t lied to Prince—Evie was his sunshine.
He’d never let her light burn out.
* * *
Every celebrity panelat Geek Out Con was set up the same way. The audience was separated from the celebrity guests by a stage, upon which was situated a long table that seated six. Each place was equipped with its own gooseneck microphone and labeled by a desk plate. Evelyn Warwick—Haraleah—shared the center of the table with Justin Outerbridge—Brent. Harlow watched Prince pull out Evie’s chair for her, then do the same for Justin. While Evie thanked him with a smile and a kind word, Justin did not.
Harlow balled the fingers of one hand into a fist, then released them again. Justin wasn’t worth getting worked up over, but damn if he didn’t get under his skin.
A voice buzzed in Harlow’s ear, broadcast from his earpiece. “Everything’s looking good out here, H. Crowd seems standard. Door security is surprisingly competent this time around. Who would’ve thought?”
