I grin up at Will. “Me too. Obviously.”
“Me three!” Shawna chimes in.
“We just have to get Jesse on board, but I don’t think it’ll be an issue,” I say. I’m sure he’s looking forward to more time with Luc now that the season is over, but he knows what’s important, and if I know our friend as well as I think I do, I know he’s itching to get out more now that they don’t have to hide.
Naz claps his hands. “Okay, so, what do we think about a mini resistance tour? A little performance art outside some of the ICE facilities?”
“We could start in Minneapolis.”
“Oh, we should get theWaves apppeople on board again,” I say.
All three of us start talking at once, excitedly throwing out ideas. AJ gets in on it, and Shawna throws out an idea or two. Even one of Luc’s sisters, Georgia, pitches in an idea about graffiti-style pop art.
“We should write a song just for this, and donate the proceeds to a legal aid fund,” I say, already thinking of some lines that might work. I pull out my phone to make some notes
“I love that,” Will says, absentmindedly pulling me against his side, squeezing me excitedly.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Blake calls out. “Slow the hell down! You can’t just run off and do whatever you want,” he says, throwing his hands up.
I feel my blood heat a little as I stare him directly in the eyes like he is out of his mind. “Oh, no you don’t,” I say, pointing up at him. “We are done playing the label’s game. No more hiding. Nomore backing down. We have the power here—you told us that. We have a platform, and we’re going to use it. If the label doesn’t like it, I’m sure we can find someone else that would want to amplify our message instead of stifling us.”
Blake clears his throat, patiently waiting for me to finish like a smug, condescending bastard.
“For the biggest impact, we need a little coordination and planning—clear messaging, a structured press rollout, proper permits and coordination with local law enforcement. I’ve already shot a message to Kit Quinley from theWavesapp about partnering with them and help vetting potential partnerships with legal aid groups.” My mouth snaps shut. “You’ve got a good idea here,” Blake says kindly. “But let me work on some logistics so we can do this the right way.”
“Oh. Yeah… Okay,” I say, smiling apologetically for laying into him like that. “Sorry,” I whisper, a little embarrassed. He chuckles and winks.
Mr. Martín clears his throat. “You, uh, might do with some voter registration booths.”
Talia, Luc’s youngest sister, beams up at her father. “Daddy…” she says, as if prompting him.
Hehmmphsagain, then looks down at his daughters. “I think I could be interested in a littlegood trouble, if you need some help with that.” His daughters and Shawna all coo at him, and I swear my heart grows a little.
“So that’s what a father is supposed to be like,” I murmur.
Will goes still beside me. The tension in his posture has me turning to look up at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Please remind me to talk to you about Don,” he says, looking supremely uncomfortable. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
I cock an eyebrow. “He dead?”
Will gives me a sad look. “Unfortunately, not.”
“What’s going on?”
He huffs, looking pained. “We should probably get Blake in on this conversation.”
Well, that doesn’t sound good.
“I’m so sorry,” Will repeats for probably the hundredth time. “I should have never kept it from you. The longer I didn’t say anything, the harder it felt to get the words out.”
I look at Blake. “I honestly thought it was going to be a lot worse.”
“Not me. We do not need another press nightmare.”
“At least there aren’t any videos or actual proof of us sleeping together,” I say, shrugging innocently.
