As if that weren’t enough, before I could let anyone know I was here, a buzzing, take-charge woman jogged over to me and started speaking rapidly about the rules for the event. Mainly, watch the language. Kids would be in the audience, and we’d all wear mics. So they would not only see me fuck up royally, they’d hear it too.

“You must be Clara,” I said to the blonde. She was short, maybe a decade younger than me, blue-eyed, and seemingly possessive of her headset and clipboard. She had the latter in a tight grip, and she wouldn’t stop adjusting the headset. “Are introductions out of fashion?”

“My name tag is my introduction, and for as long as August is my boss, I won’t have time for chitchat because I’m busy handling his whole fucking life,” she responded coolly. Then she snapped her fingers—legit snapped her fingers—at a guy who quickly ran over to us. “Fender needs a mic. So do Galen and Washington, who just arrived.” She peered up at me and pushed up her glasses. “You’re at workstation number four—and a reminder. Don’t fucking curse.”

I grinned.

I liked her already.

“How do you even know who I am?” I didn’t think August would have described me or anything. I didn’t even know where he was right now. Maybe in the tent behind the deck slash dance floor?

“Oh,” Clara responded with a frown. “Because I’m an adult who can put two and two together? I met all the other participants last night—you know, when you were hiding out upstairs with Cam—and you’re wearing a tee that has your last name on it.”

Fuck me. She laughed at my no-doubt stunned expression and walked away, leaving me standing there having nothing to say while a guy attached a small mic to my T-shirt and stuck the bodypack to my belt behind my back.

Okay, so Clara knew…

It seemed private, though. I was supposedly the first man August and Camden had opened their relationship to since they became serious, and even if Clara was employed by August to run his public life, I didn’t understand how she’d already know about me. Unless someone had told her.

“Is the sound on?” I asked the sound guy.

“Not until Mr. King has started the class,” he replied.

Good to know.

On my way over to my workstation, I got to meet the other participants. A cheerful woman introduced herself as Bethany and asked if I was also hoping that we were going to make August King’s famous hot chicken.

I…I was just hoping I wouldn’t make a complete idiot of myself, to be honest.