*Charlie's P.O.V*

*Present time, Brazil*

So I moved to Harry and Leo's hotel suite. It's not a permanent decision, as I must keep the apartment clean. Monet still spends most of her time 'yachting', as she calls it. It sounds like she has fun with it, so I only entreat her to lock the keys on her way out. She keeps forgetting that, too, as though she thinks there are no robbers in Brazil.

Well, there are. I'm just witnessing one as I speak. I'm on a stroll with my friends, and a woman by a food joint puts her bag on her car's hood, only for someone to snatch it.

"Hey!" Harry yells, and we run. The thief speeds between tables, misarranging them to obstruct Leo and me. Harry is way ahead, closest to the thief. He grabs the bag, so the thief lets go and runs sideways, which proves to be a terrible decision. Bumping right into Leo, he tries to retreat.

"Bruh," Leo snorts, entrapping him inevitably. Harry hands the thirty-something-looking woman her bag while locals come for the thief.

The woman sighs in relief. "Thank you so so much, boys. Oh!"

"Is everything inside?"

"Oh. Mm.. yes," she replies to Leo and pulls out some money. We decline politely, though she insists. "OK, how about my card in case you need help or - or anything?"

She has my accent. I'm guessing she can't understand Portuguese based on the frantic look in her hazel eyes. Seeing people watching, she insists again, and Leo takes the card more for her sake than ours. "Just be safe, ok?"

She nods, enters her car, and drives off, still frantic.

"Poor woman," Harry mutters. We agree.

As we get home, Leo reads her card and smiles. "I knew I had seen her before."

"Who? The woman?" I ask.

"She's a writer. I think my mom used to read her works."

"Oo, so she's like, famous?" Harry skips to Leo's side. Shrugging, Leo sifts through his things until a book pops out. The woman's face appears at the back, above her name and the book's synopsis. In a glance, I reckon, "she writes self-help books. That's nice."

"That's bullocks."

"Leo!" I slap his back, and he laughs. "If not for my mom's little notes to every paragraph, I would have burned it already. No offence to the woman, but it's a no."

"Hm, let me read." I take it from him.

"No offence to the woman either, but it looks boring," is Harry's additional criticism. I will still read it.

I spend two hours absorbing the pages, whereas Leo reads his emails and Harry uses his phone. By tomorrow's dawn, I'm done.

"So?"

"Urm," I hesitate to answer Leo. He cocks a brow, and I shrug.

"So I'm right. It's boring," Leo reckons. "Anyway, got another shoot?"

I nod. His shoulders fall. He tells me he'll be free, so I should try returning early to go out. If only Monet doesn't delay the photoshoot.

*

^

*

While I am at my shoot, Leo finds the file on Mr. Jackson. I wrote "Igor's Accountant" in bold. I shouldn't have.

Now, Leo's stomach has turned. He sits quietly. Harry is in the swimming pool area.

Alone in the suite, Leo plays with the woman's card.

Brenda.

Hm. He types in her number. When she picks, he rants, "My mother liked your book, but I think you need to reassess your presumptions about life. Not everything works out by doing the right thing. Sometimes you think it's over. You are happy now, but oh, oh, there's more trouble waiting to catch you unaware. Waiting to suffocate you. "

Silence. Seven seconds.

"Please, who is this?"

Leo stills. Her line tingles his ears. "The kid. You gave us your card."

"What ki-" she pauses for another question. "As in the boys who got my bag? "

"Yes, ma'am."

"It's Brenda or Bren. I like Bren."

He apologises to Brenda, saying the call is a mistake, though she cheers, "Well, I am used to criticism so. What book are you referring to?"

When he gives her its name, her tone goes hysterical. "That was a shot show, I tell you. I have a new book if you want to judge my writing. My book launch is Thursday."

Then Brenda goes into details Leo didn't request for but appreciates all the same.

*

*

After work, Leo keeps to his word, attending the book launch. He joins a queue for her autograph, having bought a copy of her latest self-help book when she ended her speech with its synopsis.

Brenda grins when she sees him. They chat a little too long, continuing after the program. Leo talks about his hobbies, which do not include reading, so Brenda understands that his opinion may not be the best.

"Well, you made some criticisms in our last call."

"Ur.. It's just personal stuff. I wasn't talking about your book exactly."

"Mm." Brenda hums in a manner inviting him to add more. More of what, though? His issues?

"Let's not focus on me," he says, "have you always wanted to be a writer, Bren?"

"Yes, but not to write stuff like this." She flips her book. Leo leans back, and she smirks, "I wanted to write more controversial shit."

"Like?"

"Mm, Greek mythology... maybe corruption, or like, Rabbis in sex cults -"

"What?!" Leo bursts into hysteria. "Where did you get that idea from?"

"It happened in my hometown," quirks Bren, "turns out it was normality for the political leaders, but when people found out the Rabbi was in a sex cult, shit hit the fan. I was ten then, but I'll always remember my dad - may his soul rest in peace - yelling for me and my sisters to give an account of our every interaction with the Rabbi..."

*

Their chinwag doesn't end there. Leo texts her the next day, the next, and the next... As the weekend arrives, Brenda suggests they go to an art gallery together. Leo invites me and Harry to her secret dismay.

The gallery is quite sophisticated. Despite our moderate outfits, we feel at odds with other art enthusiasts in bow ties and suits.

"What is this? Van Gogh?" Harry points to the first painting. Brenda shoots him a strange look before answering, "Seems like I need to teach you boys a thing or two about art."

And teach she does. She talks like an art collector, using exquisite words and describing the canvases, brushing techniques, etc. I note as much as possible, whereas Harry tries not to get lost between the dozen corridors at every turn. Leo is always by her side, though. She pays more attention to him, asking questions like, "What do you think about this?"

"Ur? It's great?"

Her shoulders slouch. "That's all you have been saying. Genuinely, what do you think?" She hovers behind him, inching him closer to one canvas with red and blue streaks cast over a looming figure underneath a daisy. Leo squints at it for an imperceptible moment.

"It looks scary. But I don't get the point."

Brenda grins, gaze flickering between my friend and the painting.

Soon, the gallery-gazing ends. As we depart from Brenda, Harry comments, "She likes you."

"Who?" Leo asks.

Harry side-eyes him, causing me to exclaim, "Ooo, Brenda."

"Bruh." Leo chuckles, "she sees me as a friend."

"Says who?" Harry contends. "Has she told you so?"

No, not that Leo recalls.

That is when he starts to realise things move too fast around Brenda. Perhaps, he never noticed since she is always saying stuff that throws him off.

It's been a week since they met, and she has called him sixty-eight times, odd hours included.

Pondering Harry's surmise, Leo decides it's time for clarity.

A dinner. 8 pm? Even 8 feels a little too late for a friendly dinner, but Brenda will be free then.

*

When Leo sees Brenda, he slows down his gait because she has dressed up fancy, an overt co to his plain shirt and trousers.

"Leo -" She stares at him carefully. "I don't think dinner will work. I'm quite satisfied for the day. Do you fancy doing anything else?"

"Like?"

"Uhm... ok, come."

He follows her. Brenda sways till they reach an old building. She tells him she wants to show him something as they take a surprisingly functional elevator. They enter what seems like a library before she chirps, "This is my office."

He steps in. She offers him a seat, taking the one opposite him. His eyes trail the books around them just as Brenda lights a cigar.

"Smoking kills," Leo says.

"That's why I like it."

"That's why your books suck."

Brenda's jaw drops. Leo's gaze turns daring, slithering silence adorned with dust. He should sneeze. He wants to sneeze, but right now, something irritating is growing in him. He opens his mouth, but she beats him to it.

"I can't tell if you are an awful person," she utters, "but I am not that great either, so I'll take it you are better than me."

"I never said I am better than you, Brenda." He deigns to smirk. "I'm asking you to stop smoking, think positive, and maybe things will get better. Also, stop confusing me."

"Confusing you? How?"

Leo cocks a brow as if to say, don't pretend. I'm way better at it than you.

"How am I confusing you?" Brenda, still in her clueless tone, rises. As Leo refuses to talk, she draws closer. He shakes his head, and she laughs, grabbing his knees.

Then, she kisses him. He pulls back, turning so fast that he sees her laptop's lit reflection from a window.

"Bren -" Her lips recapture his before he can finish. She unzips his trousers.

*

When Leo gets home, we are all asleep. Or so he thinks.

"So." Harry appears from the dark, drinking water. "How did it go with Brenda?"

"We fucked."

Harry chokes on the water.

Clasping his hands, Leo adds, "And no, it doesn't mean I like her. Not like that."

"So why?"

Leo blinks at this question. His deadpan expression comes with ease, but letting words out doesn't. Harry, however, has a lot to say, starting with:

"You know she's married, right?"

"Huh?" Leo looks up.

Harry facepalms. "Check her Facebook."

*

*

Elsewhere, Brenda's husband huffs to his seat, famished.

His mind and body drift for a second - only a second, since his phone won't let him sleep.

"Who is this?" He picks up on the eighth ring.

The line is quiet. He sits upright, realisation dawning on the husband. "Boaz?!"

"Drigo," Boaz grumbles, "Drigo. Drigo. Drigo. How many times have I called you?"

"Oh, Boaz, I didn't see your missed calls-"

"And where's my money?"

"The harvest hasn't been great this season, Boaz."

"I didn't ask about the season. Where is my money?!"

Drigo sighs, "You and your sister, why are you so impatient? I don't have anything. Harvest was bad. But my wife will make up for it with her book sale -"

"Next week. You have till next week." Boaz cuts the line with his final word being, "Don't make me cut you and that Brenette- Brenda or whatever your wife's name is."

"Oh, Boaz. Have mercy."

*

*
*back in Brazil*

After realising Bren is married, Leo prohibits Harry and me from uttering her name. We obey.

"We should go out," Harry suggests to liven his mood. However, all that does is to get Leo up from bed. He mutters something about work, abandoning us. We don't see him till Saturday morning when he wakes up earliest.

Harry and I pretend to sleep as he laces his sneakers. The instant he walks out our door, we pass a different route to the gym. As expected, he arrives there too.

"Ugh, you two," he grunts while we beam at him. I pinch him so he can't help but grin. "Fine, sorry for acting awful. Y'all better get out of here."

"Oh. But we are your gym bruvs."

"No, you are skinny boys," jests Leo to Harry's comment. My jaw drops, whereas Harry's own clenches.

"Did he just - oh you didn't." My childhood bestie grabs a weight at random. I can't break my arm in the name of pride, so I retreat.

"Hey, where do you think you are going?"

"You said we should go." Yet Leo drags me. Before I know it, this boy is making me sweat and grit my teeth for hours.

Do we learn our lesson, though? From the gym, we still follow him.

"Where to next?" I chirp.

"Dance class."

"Jeez, Leo. Are you not tired?!" cries Harry. The former shakes his head cheekily. Dancing proves more chaotic, given that everyone is in sync except us. I'm so glad we fall into rhythm eventually.

Accomplishment dorns our faces when we step out. Harry runs to the hotel suite, screaming, "Time to feed my online babies!!!!"

By feeding, he means making us do the dance routine for his YouTube channel a zillion times, after which I insist we take a bath; I can not spend beyond half a day drenched in sweat.

The following agenda is the beach. While sunbathing, we chat about one another's experiences so far. Harry, being the most free among us, talks nonstop upon his turn. It's only when a girl in a bikini comes to us that he pauses.

"Hi, please, I need help putting on some sunscreen -"

"I volunteer."

"Of course." Leo chuckles as Harry still deserts us. Next to go is me since my phone starts ringing with David's name apparent. I haven't told Leo about my encounter with David for fear of blurting about Mr. Jackson's file. Leo does not need stress. I don't want to stress him, even though I'll have to tell him when I figure out my plans concerning the accountant. In the meantime, I excuse myself to the beach shore with a false smile.

"Do you know Jawls is dead?" David utters right after our exchanging cell-hellos. "He was poisoned like a week ago. Most of his guys died this month. Their cartel is practically dead."

There is a pause.

"Charlie?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

I hum an affirmative.

"Why? What are you thinking?" inquires David.

I squint at the sea. "Who killed them?"

"Mm, maybe the Yeltsins." If David did not sound glad a second ago, now he does. "Which is kinda good, right? Our only headache is that family, Mr Jackson -"

"And Pamela."

"Who?"

"Igor's wife."

"Oh, her," David quirks, "she is not a problem."

How sure are you of that? Gripping my phone to my ears, I wonder. Everyone seems to underestimate her, but na - I know a snake when I see one.

And she's already tried to kill me so.

David clears his throat. "Ok, put her and all those psychos aside, Charlie. Either way, you are gonna beat them... Let's talk about happier stuff like, ur, have you checked if the address I gave you was correct?"

What address?

Address? Oh? Oh!

My eyes bulge. David's amusement at my realisation ripples through the line, complementing my yelp. I frown while he laughs.

"I totally forgot, mate!"

"Good thing I called you, huh?"

I facepalm. "Oh my goodness. It-it-it escaped me. And Mia doesn't even know yet."

"Tell her!"

But when I dial Mia, her line is busy.

*

*

By evening, I am still phoning her to no avail. Leo notices my furrowed brows, to which he comments, "Why are you so worried about her?"

"Oh, no, I just need to tell her something."

"Then leave a voicemail, or?"

Harry shakes his head. "I wouldn't notice that."

"Why?" Leo tilts to him with difficulty given the couch he's on. We are back in our suite, though Harry is about to go partying with the girl from the beach.

"My voicemails are usually booty calls, so."

"What's that?" I laugh. "A call you make with your butt? Ha, a fart challenge?"

That's when my friends do the let's not tell him look.

"Seriously though, I hate it when I send voicemails only to be ignored," says Leo, "that's rude. To me."

"Ok, ok." Harry surrenders. Still confused, I redial Mia and do a little dance around my friends.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." I desert them for my room too fast to see the smug smirks of my friends. Leo turns to Hary and remembers to say, "Read. Your. Voicemails. Before the day ends."