Chapter 5 Liam #2
It pisses me off. I don’t usually care that she’s so judgy, but it usually doesn’t affect me.
“Maybe I wanted the dollar store cuffs,” I snap at her. “Sometimes I like being treated like a cheap whore.”
Maggie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I got that from all the times you hook up with guys in club bathrooms.” She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. “Seriously though. I worry about you sometimes. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to get yourself seriously hurt, Liam.”
“I’m a big boy,” I tell her. “In so many ways. I can handle myself.”
When I want to.
When I’m not being overpowered by Ryker no-last-name.
That had been so addictive that I don’t know if I can go without seeing him soon. If he was pissed at me for committing one murder with a calling card, what would he do to punish me for a second one?
“Fine, fine. But if things get bad with anyone, promise you’ll come to me, okay?” Maggie rubs her thumb along one of the red marks. “I’ll help you out, no questions asked.”
She has no idea what she’s saying, obviously. She just means the sex stuff.
“Yeah, I’ll remember that,” I tell her. “If I ever end up in jail, you’re the first person I’m calling, so be prepared to pay for my bail.”
That makes her laugh. “Oh, fuck that. I’m not breaking into my trust fund for that.”
“So much for helping me out,” I complain with a pout. “Some friend you are.” I nudge her in the side. “Let’s watch something. Then we can order pizza from that really good place on Third Street.”
“Oh, no, that place is canceled,” Maggie says. “The owner posted some awful shit on socials.” She pulls away from me to get her phone out of her purse. After a few seconds of tapping, she holds the screen out to me. “Look at this.”
I grimace at the owner’s weird political tirade. Yeah, maybe I don’t want to support him.
The post below that catches my eye though. I scroll down, and I see it’s an ad for Cereals even I can recognize that much. But she’s also straight as a board.
Probably.
Either way, Maggie needs to stop waiting for her, but good luck telling her that.
“Or you could be tapping that other friend of yours. Grace?” I suggest.
I grab my phone. It’s been a few days since I posted to my own socials, and now that I know Ryker is watching them…
I need to send him another message, but what do I say?
Decisions, decisions.
“No, Grace is dating, um… You know, the killjoy. The one who snitched on our party back in high school.” Maggie shakes her head. “Can’t believe that bitch graduated summa cum laude. Grace said I was too childish for her now. I wasn’t too childish when I was eating her out though.”
I hum in sympathy. “Plenty of fish in the sea,” I offer.
I’m itching to tell her about Ryker, but how can I explain how we’d met? Or that we’d connected instantly over talking about murder?
“Which reminds me I have a fish I want to try to catch,” I add, contemplating the app. “I really like cheap-handcuffs guy, and he’s following me.” I wonder if Cereals & Serials would be interested in having me endorse them.
Eh, no reason to ask for permission.
Who wouldn’t want someone with the number of followers I have to talk about their show?
“Let’s talk about that true crime show,” I tell her. “We can tell everyone how great it is.”
“Huh?” Maggie’s brows furrow. “Why? It’s the usual. Oooh, somebody did a murder! Everybody had no idea their creepo relative was a creep!” She laughs. “How the fuck do you not notice? Most of them are loser incels anyway.”
I nod along with her, but I pull up the screen to record. “We’re doing it anyway,” I say, batting my eyelashes at her. “So buckle up and be prepared to endorse the fuck out of it.”
“Endorse… are you getting paid?” Maggie asks, but she sits up straighter.
“If we’re recording something, we need to get the lights.
Everything’s still in your office?” She gets up, then looks at me.
“Oh, cover the bruises, we don’t need weird comments about your private life. Somebody will think I’m abusing you.”
“But I like the bruises,” I grumble.
I head into the bathroom anyway, sloppily covering up both the bruise on my jaw that I don’t think she did notice and my wrists. I’m not great at it, but I think I do a passable job. As long as I don’t draw attention to my wrists, it should be fine.
I join her in the office I use to record all of my videos, noting with approval that she’s already set everything up.
Now the only thing left to do is create the video.
“Hey, everyone,” I begin as soon as she signals to me that we’re recording.
This is going to be a great one.