Chapter 6
Julia
I didn’t plan to spend my whole day with Ace again. It just…happened.
One minute, we were eating bagels from our favorite bakery in SoHo and arguing over whether the everything bagel is the best bagel you can get, and the next, we were watching people play chess in Washington Square Park before picking up tacos.
And then somehow, we ended up at a pet store holding a chameleon Ace named Mr. Slippy.
It was a lot. It was also…fun. So much so that I almost forgot I had an actual date tonight.
Almost.
Ace, of course, made sure I didn’t forget—by accidentally spilling salsa all over my shirt and making me change, which started a whole debate about outfits, and then he said I should let him do my makeup, which turned into another argument because, frankly, Ace’s over-the-top hand on my eyelids would’ve been a war crime.
Long story short, I was a little late for my date with Drew. Not egregiously, but enough to make my palms sweat when I realized he was stuck in my parents’ living room talking to my father for ten whole minutes.
Now, I’m sitting across from him at a cozy table in a fancy restaurant called Olivette, trying to focus on conversation and not the vibrating phone in my lap that’s been lighting up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
Drew offers the bread basket, and I take a piece and a pat of butter on my plate gratefully. My phone buzzes in my lap again—the same thing it’s been doing for the last half an hour—and I do my best to glance at it discreetly as messages dance across the screen.
Ace: Did you know the Romanovs were like actual killers?
Ace: I thought with so many names that ended in The Great they’d be like legit and stuff, but according to this thing on Netflix they were pretty ruthless
I grit my teeth, trying not to fidget in my chair too much while Drew looks on.
Ace: Do you need to heat hot dogs long enough to actually cook em or just get em hot? I can never remember
Ace: Do you think that chinese food place on fifth avenue will deliver all the way over here? I want egg rolls
Either my phone is lagging in delivery or Ace’s fingers are literally moments away from falling off because the speed with which his messages are landing is something to be marveled at.
My smile twitches at the corner. Drew’s in the middle of explaining something about his macroeconomics professor last semester, and I really try to stay tuned in, but Ace is chaos in text form.
I click the side button on my phone to darken the screen again, but it goes off immediately, lighting back up.
“So, what classes are you looking forward to most this year?” Drew asks, chewing his bread completely and dabbing at his mouth with his napkin before even starting to speak.
He’s been working hard to keep our conversation going despite my level of distraction, and I swear, even though he should be annoyed with me, he hasn’t broken his smile once.
I don’t know if he’s going for sainthood or if he’s actually this chill, but I appreciate it either way.
I never dreamed Ace would be texting this much—or that anyone would.
In fact, I don’t think anyone in the entire world has ever texted this much in a one-hour time frame.
It’s probably in contention for a Guinness record.
Ace: I’m worried the Armani suit for Lexi’s grad thing might be a little too casual. I mean I wear Armani to class sometimes. You think I should go with the Gucci or keep my options open
Ace: Do you think testicular torsion is something you can talk through? I just pulled my nuts BAD but like I can still talk through my teeth you know
God help me.
“I’m really looking forward to psychology.
I never thought I’d be interested in it, but when my peer counselor told me about the curriculum, I knew I had to take it,” I manage to say, still distracted by my phone but vying for something, anything, to erase Ace asking about testicular torsion from my memory.
I type feverishly across my keyboard, knowing I can’t keep this up much longer without ruining the date completely.
Me: Ace, can this wait? I’m on my date with Drew, remember?
Ace: OH SHIT SORRY totally forgot. Mums the word and shit. I’ll wait for you to text me unless it’s something really urgent
I tuck the phone away and smile softly, apologizing. “Sorry about that, Drew. Won’t happen again. I think he’s done.”
“He?” Drew asks, but it’s not unkindly. “Please don’t break my heart and tell me you have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, no.” I laugh. “No boyfriend, just a best friend named Ace. We’ve known each other since we were born, practically.”
“Ace Kelly?”
“That’s the one.” Obviously, everyone on campus knows Ace Kelly, just as he intended. He told me at the last party we attended together that his aura arrives ten minutes before his physical body.
“Got it.” Drew smiles. “I was just making sure I wasn’t being unknowingly cockblocked by a six-foot-tall problem.”
“While my best friend is technically six-three, and a very loud, very chaotic problem, I’m single.”
He chuckles. “Good to know.”
We settle back into conversation, and it feels like we’re finally getting into a groove.
I’ve done little more than glance at Drew this whole time, which is truly an injustice to his good looks.
He’s got that blond, preppy, rich-guy style with pressed pants and loafers and the perfect collared shirt.
He has a dimple in his left cheek and Caribbean blue eyes and the kinds of muscles born from a strict gym regimen.
He picked me up from my parents’ Manhattan apartment in a Bentley with a driver and brought both flowers and candy for the occasion. We left them in the car—in the built-in refrigerator so they wouldn’t melt—but I’m still amazed he was thoughtful enough for the gesture.
It’s not that I don’t know good guys—I know the best of them, really—but college-aged jocks aren’t usually in the most romantic of subsets.
“Ugh. I’m so sorry,” I say when my phone buzzes obnoxiously again from my purse.
And once again, Drew is gracious, waving a hand and scooting back just enough to cross one ankle over the other knee. “Oh, no problem. Is it an emergency?”
“I… No. I should put it on Do Not Disturb.” I wince.
“I’m sorry I didn’t before. Let me just do that really quickly, and then we can focus on us and dinner.
Anyway…you were asking about classes. I haven’t picked my major yet, so I’m still kind of exploring, you know?
What about you? Do you know what you want to do? ”
“My dad’s in private equity. I’m kind of thinking I might go that direction too. The pay is good and stuff. But I don’t know… I’m not really passionate about anything yet, I guess.”
“Would your parents be okay if you decided to do something else? Or is there, like, pressure there?” I ask, but I’m also fumbling with my stupid phone, trying to discreetly find the setting to put Ace on Do Not Disturb.
“They’re pretty cool. My dad might be a little disappointed, but overall, I think he’d support whatever I wanted, however begrudgingly. Are your parents cool with you taking your time deciding?”
My phone buzzes with another message from Ace, and regardless of whether it’s a good idea or not, I find myself glancing at it.
His last message said he wouldn’t text unless it was urgent, and believe it or not, he’s usually pretty trustworthy.
People mistake his goofiness for something else, but he’s solid.
I’ve never had anyone I could count on more.
Ace: Oh jeez I think I need help you might need to come over here… Gunnar is fucking nuts and I’m in over my head, Jules!
My heart kicks into overdrive as possibilities of trouble Gunnar has found run through my head.
They are endless and varied in danger, but seeing as he’s shown up at home with a few members of the Pagans—a very real 1% biker gang—gone into anaphylaxis because he took some random food from a random stranger outside of a Dollar General, and painted their entire house with baby powder just to make a YouTube video before, I can’t just assume it’s nothing.
Right now, there’s a very real chance that Ace could be texting with his hands behind his back while being held at gunpoint.
“Shit. Drew, I’m sorry, but I need to cut our date short. There’s kind of a family emergency I have to tend to. I’m so, so sorry. I feel terrible.”
“No, no, of course. I understand. Don’t feel bad. Can I help? Do you want me to come with you?” he asks, shoving to his feet and jumping to my side of the table as I sling my purse on my shoulder and stand.
“No, thank you. Really.” I shake my head.
As much as some extra hands could be useful, I hardly think it’s smart to enlighten Drew on just how much ridiculous fucking drama comes with the Kelly family at this stage of the game.
I’ll need to ease him in—soften the blow.
One of Gunnar’s emergent situations with undisclosed details is not at all a gentle introduction, seeing as it has a very real possibility of ending in a cavity search.
“I appreciate it so much and how understanding you’re being. I really hope we can reschedule?”
“Of course. I’d love that.”
I smile, leaning in to place a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks again. I promise not to be on my phone next time. Hell, maybe I’ll just leave it at home.”
“Julia, don’t worry about it. I’ve… Well, I’ve had a crush on you since we first met last year, and I’ve been around you enough to know you wouldn’t be leaving right now without a good reason. I’m good. I promise. We’ll do this again.”
I kiss his cheek again. He’s just so…understanding. That’s nice.
“Thank you, Drew. Really. I’ll call you.”
I take off on fast feet, shoving through people in the front of the restaurant waiting for tables and out onto the sidewalk.
I scroll through my phone to Scottie’s number and hit the green phone button to call her.
Drew may not be an option for backup, but I’m definitely going to need it.
Finn is the best set of muscle I can think of with Ace’s dad out of town.
If things get really dicey, Finn’ll be able to get his newly discovered brothers—the Winslows—involved too.
“Hello?” she answers on the third ring, slightly out of breath.
“Scottie, is Finn with you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I need him. In fact, I could probably use both of you. And Blake, if you can get ahold of him, as impossible as that’s been this summer. But I need everyone you can get to meet me at Ace’s parents’ house pronto.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Something with Gunnar, and Ace’s parents aren’t home.”
“Ohh boy.”
“Girl, please.” I blow out a breath. “You have no idea. Tell Finn…well, tell him to bring at least his fists, but if he’s got a weapon, that probably wouldn’t be bad either.”
“Jesus, Julia!”
“I’ve gotta go! I’ll meet you there!”
“Fine. I’ll tell Finn to call Blake too.”
“Perfect. Bye.”
I hang up before she can say anything else, and I don’t know if she was intending to or not. But I’ve got to call Ace, and I’ve got to call him quick. I need some kind of clue as to what we’re walking into. I need to know if I need to call the cops.
I need to know if I need to call my dad.
I need to know if I need to alert the mayor or call in a favor to the National Guard.
I dial the number and put the phone to my ear, and he answers in two rings, his voice hurried.
“Hello? Jules?”
“I’m on my way. Finn and Scottie are on their way, and they’re trying to call Blake too. What’s going on, Ace? How bad is it?”
“It’s bad, Jules. I think I’m going to have to call the cops.”
“Oh God.” As bad as that sounds, it could sound worse. Police are local. When we up the ante to federal agencies, like the FBI, I’ll let myself panic. “Just do your best to contain the situation until I get there with backup. And whatever you do, do not take off your clothes.”
“What? Why would I take off my clothes?”
“I don’t know! You’re the one with the information, but I keep picturing some very rough strip searching!”
“Noted. And…honestly, probably pragmatic, knowing Gunnar. I’ll keep my clothes on. At least until you get here.”
“Getting in a cab now!” I yell. “Bye!”
I hang up and put my hand in the air for a cab, but Drew steps out in the street in front of me, putting his fingers to his lips and whistling so loud his car pulls away from the curb down the block and floors it toward us immediately.
“Drew. What are you doing?”
“Coming with you.”
“I said you didn’t have to. I don’t—”
“Jules, there’s no way I was sending you out of here to rush to some emergency on your own. I just stayed back to pay the bill.”
“Drew—”
“Don’t worry about it, babe.” He opens the door for me and holds out a hand. “Come on, get in.”
I climb in the car and slide across the seat, and Drew gets in behind me. “Where are we headed?” the driver asks, and Drew turns to look at me.
Ready or not, I guess Drew’s getting thrown into the deep end of the Kelly pool.
I sure hope he can swim.
“520 Park Avenue. And hurry.”
“520 Park Ave?” Drew asks. “Isn’t that on Billionaires’ Row?”
“Yep.” I nod.
Big money. Big hearts. Big trouble. That’s the Kelly family in a nutshell. But hey, at least it means we always have bail money.