I text quickly:I’m on my way home.
While I find my keys in my pocket, three cameramen near with their lenses. Asking the same question, “Why are your knuckles bloody?!”
“Did you get in a fight, Maximoff?!”
Farrow pushes a camera aside. “Get out of his face.”
“Sorry,” the paparazzi apologizes, pretty sincere. He takes more than a few steps backwards.
Silent, I unlock my car, and I climb into the driver’s seat.
Farrow is in the passenger, doors locked, and I drive out onto the highway. Like it’s just another day of my life.
I move forward.
I don’t look back.
Flicking on my blinker, I switch to the left lane. Speeding ahead of trailing paparazzi that race after my car.
Farrow reaches across my body. I stiffen, my eyes flitting from him to the road. He seizes the silver buckle by my shoulder and pulls the strap over my chest. Clicking the belt in by my ass.
“You’re not dying today,” Farrow reminds me. “Let me see your hand.”
I grip the wheel with both hands. Skin busted on a few of my knuckles. “I thought we’ve been through this. You’re not my damn doctor; you’re not my assistant. Not a caped crusader or a fortuneteller or my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. You’re just…”
Farrow.
I swallow a lump in my throat and then I take a chance and look at him.
He wears only the same understanding.
So I say, “It’d break my mom’s heart to hear what he said. You know that?”
“I know.” Farrow was around my mom for three years.He knows.“But it’d break her heart more to see her son get jumped by four men twice his age.” I watch the road as he says, “You don’t want anyone to help you,butyou’re willing to put your life at risk for—fuck.” He pops his earpiece out completely and unclips his radio from his waistband.
Hunching forward, he tinkers with the comms.
By the tic of his jaw muscle, I can tell he bites hard on his teeth. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“My radio just died.”
“Well you can’t save everyone,” I say, which makes him smile.
And he tilts his head towards me, pieces of his bleach-white hair falling in his eyes. “Still a precious smartass.”
I nearly smile too, but both of our phones start incessantly buzzing. Family, for me. Security team, for him. It’s going to be a long night of rehashing the same story over and over.
We both reach for our phones.
I’m ready for it.
13
FARROW KEENE
For seven consecutive nights,Maximoff buries his time in charity work. I’d think it’s penance for the pub fight, but he’s drowning himself in work to avoid his old nightclub routine. Where he “finds someone to fuck”. He’s been delaying that since I became his bodyguard.
Except for tonight.
