Seventeen Meet The Team #2
When April slid back into the VIP booth, five faces turned toward her.
Jax had disappeared off to who knows where.
Mateo set out insulated bags with the kind of care usually reserved for transporting organs.
He popped open the first container and the smell that escaped was illegal in at least three states.
Bread and butter and heat that made her close her eyes. Outside food wasn't technically allowed, but apparently rules were suggestions when you had enough money.
April sat down, shifting against the leather, Mateo’s food warm in her hands. Liam’s attention shifted to her immediately, his expression settled into that private focus he got when he was already three steps ahead.
"You okay?" he asked.
April leaned into him slightly. Just enough to feel grounded. "Yeah. I'm good."
"You look like you figured something out." He tilted his head, studying her.
April blinked. That was uncomfortably accurate, and very Liam.
"I helped someone," she said. “It helped me."
Liam waited. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world for her to finish the thought.
April took a breath. "I chose to come back here. I could've stayed in that bathroom. Could've called Laura, gone home, let this whole day just... collapse." She looked around the booth—at six men who'd somehow ended up here with her in the span of a single chaotic Tuesday. "But I chose to be here."
His smile was genuine. "Good choice."
April reached for the food without looking up. It tasted like what happiness would taste like if happiness had gone to culinary school in Italy and held a grudge against mediocrity.
Drinks arrived in glasses so delicate she was afraid to breathe near them. Killian sat close enough that she could feel the heat of him through her dress. His hand found her knee under the table.
Caleb stretched out, looking extremely pleased with himself.
"Better than the gala?" he asked.
"The gala had a man dressed like a confused art exhibit trying to convince me we were still dating," April said. "So yes. Significantly better."
Caleb's grin widened.
Jax appeared. Like a jump cut. One frame empty, the next: Jax.
He set something on the table.
Name tags.
Not the flimsy paper kind you got at conferences where you'd write your name in Sharpie and spend the rest of the day worried it was smudging. These were fancy, metallic and magnetic. All engraved:
Killian Blackwood
Arthur Stone
Liam Sterling
Caleb Hart
Mateo Rossi
Jax Reed
"The song's everywhere," Jax said, pulling out his phone with the kind of pride usually reserved for people showing off ultrasound pictures. He was practically vibrating with satisfaction. "Already climbing the charts. And look—"
He turned the screen toward her.
A screenshot. The Cupcake Song, already titled, already hashtagged, already everywhere. And right there in the tags, circled in red like Jax was a teacher grading a particularly satisfying exam: @ChadWhatever ??
"Tagged accordingly," Jax said, grinning.
April almost laughed. Almost. Because "accordingly" was doing a lot of work in that sentence, and the clown emoji was somehow both juvenile and devastating.
And now Jax was handing her more ammunition, more ways to hurt Chad, more ways to make this bigger.
April's hand came down gently on Jax's phone, pushing it back toward him.
"That's enough," she said quietly.
Jax blinked. "What?"
"The plan was to ruin his Tuesday." April looked around the booth. "With Jiro's song, we've already done more than that. It's enough."
Silence.
Jax stared at her. His face recalibrated.
"But thank you for the name tags," April added, her tone warming slightly, squeezing his wrist once. "Stop plotting and sit with us."
Jax tilted his head, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder.
"Noted. War crimes suspended. Just vibes."
Then he pocketed his phone and slid into the booth without argument.
Across from her Caleb was watching. His eyes tracked how Jax stopped immediately, without protest, when April told him to.
Killian picked up his name tag first, pinning it on without ceremony.
Arthur followed.
Then Liam.
Mateo.
Jax, naturally, had already been wearing his before anyone asked when he'd put it on.
Mateo leaned back, still grinning from the way April had shut down Jax's tagging campaign with the efficiency of someone closing a browser tab.
"You know what that reminds me of?" He gestured with his drink.
"Food critic once sent back a dish three times.
Three times. So the third time, I sent it back with a note that said, 'This is perfect. You're the problem.'"
"What did he do?" Liam asked.
Mateo's grin went absolutely feral. "Gave me four stars."
Liam laughed. Not the polite society version. The real one. The kind that suggested feelings under all that old-money frost.
Mateo turned toward April and tapped his glass against hers. "You shut Jax down better than I ever handled a food critic." He kissed her cheek and went back to sipping like nothing had happened.
April tilted her head slightly, catching Caleb's eye. "You deal with critics too, right? Film reviews?"
Caleb blinked.
"Yeah," he said, finding his footing. "Though I think Mateo has the right approach. Most critics are mad they’re not the ones creating."
Mateo raised his glass. "Exactly."
April's hand moved, squeezing Mateo's knee once before reaching for her drink. His thumb doing that slow, distracted thing against her leg.
Arthur leaned toward Killian, voice low. "The Singapore deal closes tomorrow."
Killian nodded. "I know. You ready?"
"Always."
It was quick, a check-in between people who'd worked together long enough that full sentences were optional.
April caught the moment. She always did.
"Caleb," she said, pulling his attention back. "You were saying? About critics?"
He refocused. "Just that Mateo's right. You can't let them define your work."
Arthur handed April her water before she reached for it. She murmured thanks, her fingers brushing his.
He didn’t let go.
His hand rose from hers and settled at her jaw, steady, certain. He held there until she met his eyes.
When he kissed her, it was firm enough that she felt it settle into her.
He drew back slowly, his thumb lingering against her cheek before he released her.
April turned toward Jax.
“Jax,” she said, grounding herself back into the room, “didn’t you say something earlier about the algorithm favoring organic engagement?”
Jax leaned forward immediately. “Oh, absolutely.”
“Because,” April added lightly, glancing toward Caleb, “do reviews even matter anymore? Feels like audience scores can bury a movie faster than critics can.”
Caleb blinked, then leaned in. “They can.”
Jax grinned. “User-generated content drives perception way more than….” The conversation shifted.
A moment later, when Mateo mentioned a supplier issue, April turned toward Arthur. “Didn’t you say something about logistics at the gala? With the—” She gestured vaguely.
Arthur’s expression softened. “Supply chain optimization. Different scale, same principle.”
Mateo nodded, already engaging. April watched the conversation take hold, voices overlapping, glasses clinking, shoulders angling closer.