ASHTON The small hotel bar was dimly lit, with a sign illuminating "Chicago" in bold letters. A variety of liquor bottles lined the counter, but there was no bartender in sight. The walls were adorned with Chicago Cubs posters in blue and red, and apart from one table, all the high-top tables were empty. As we entered, the five bodyguards sitting at the table instantly noticed us, and their conversation seemed to quiet down. I could sense that Kaleb, Perth, Davin, Seth, and Perry's attention was on me, not Lennox. Damn. It felt like I had some kind of superpower that rendered me incapable of speaking. "Hey," I sa

ASHTON Lennox steps down from the stool and stands in front of Kaleb. "Write 'fuck you, Lennox' wherever you find space," he says. Without uttering a word, Kaleb uncaps the pen and writes "I promise to follow the rules" near Lennox's collarbone. Lennox rolls his eyes and tucks his shirt into his back pocket before returning to the stool beside me. With another roll, Kaleb loses the bet again. He loses his second dice and reads, "Truth: how attracted are you to your client—no, this is inappropriate, Davin." "I can explain,

ASHTON The ballroom was packed with enthusiastic fans, every chair occupied. A pathway divided the room, leading to a microphone where fans eagerly awaited their turn to ask questions. A large banner, proudly displaying "FanCon presented by J.H.W. Philanthropies," served as the backdrop for a decent-sized stage. Five chairs were neatly arranged in a row, with the tour's moderator gently tapping the microphone at the podium. As soon as the moderator introduced us, we stepped onto the stage, causing an eruption of cheers from the crowd. The room echoed with applause and whistling, accompanied by the flashing of cameras. I couldn't help but smile and wave in response to the overwhelming support. I picked up a microphone from my designated seat, taki

LENNOX "I'm going to ask you this once," Kaleb confronted me on Christmas Eve. We were all gathered in the second lounge at SFO, except for Davin who was driving us to Atlanta. It wasn't for a meeting or a pointless fight. We were undressing for a Hot Santa Underwear Contest, with our clients serving as the judges in the first lounge. We had randomly picked underwear styles from a hat, ranging from tame to nearly-naked. Perth had dubbed the evening as chill and fun, but everyone seemed to have forgotten that Kaleb had no concept of either. As I pulled my black shirt over my head, I tried to suppress an eye-roll. "Okay, ask me," I replied. Multicolored bulbs flashed to the beat of a holiday jingle, and more lights were strung throughout the bus. K

ASHTON"Introducing Perry, also known as Samson Perry," Willow narrates, "a twenty-six-year-old Leo and former tattoo artist. He comes from an Irish background and is skilled in mixed martial arts." Perry twirls at the end of his walk and takes a bow. Without realizing it, I've been absentmindedly munching on some mediocre cookies. I finish my third one, surprised that Maddy seems to enjoy them enough to reach for more. Willow straightens herself up. "Perry, if you had to choose one word to describe yourself, what would it be?" "Thirsty," he replies.