Chapter 17 - Liam
SEVENTEEN
LIAM
I stretch out in bed, yawning widely. My body is sore from sleeping outside on the ground on a pathetic excuse for a sleeping bag, but a night’s rest in my own comfortable bed has done wonders for my condition.
The marks on my chest have scabbed over, but I’m tempted to peel them away and make them start bleeding again.
Not the best idea; if I do, they might bleed through my shirt, then I’ll have to face all sorts of awkward questions.
I grab my phone, scrolling through my socials. It’s far too early — only noon — to show my face on any videos, but I send a quick text to Ryker.
Liam
Good morning, sunshine!
I wait for a response, but to no one’s surprise, one doesn’t come right away. I huff, sending one to Maggie instead.
Liam
What time are you coming over? I missed you, babes.
Maggie
In about five, the car is turning on to your street now.
Fuck.
I scramble out of bed, grabbing a shirt and a pair of jeans on my way to the bathroom. I hurry to yank the shirt over my head, feeling the slight pull from the marks on my chest and smiling to myself even as I hurry through washing my face and brushing my teeth.
I’m changing into my jeans right as my phone rings to inform me that I have a guest to escort upstairs.
“Why do I pay you again?” I demand into the phone. “Can’t you bring her upstairs yourself?”
“No, Mr. Cohen,” comes the same reply I get every time I make the demand in a voice that’s far too patient.
I sigh but grab my keys and head downstairs to fetch Maggie.
As soon as she sees me, she says, “You look like shit.”
“I woke up approximately seven minutes ago,” I inform her. “I didn’t have time to get all pretty for you.” I lead her to the elevator with a false pout and tap the up button. “I knew you were only interested in my good looks.”
“I’ve seen you when you’re freshly woken up, babe. I’ve seen you woken up after a raging bender, even, and you never looked this bad.” Maggie gets closer to peer me in the face. I lean back, but it doesn’t deter her. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
The elevator doors open, and I use the opportunity to step past her and put a little bit of distance between us. Usually I don’t mind her getting close, but I’m paranoid that she might see something she’s not supposed to see.
It’s dumb.
There are no visible physical marks.
I don’t think.
I look down at my chest. No blood.
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you sleep in a tent for five days,” I grumble. “I told you I was going camping.”
“Wait, that was serious?” Maggie shakes her head. “I thought you were trying to get me off your trail. Like maybe you’d gotten exclusive tickets to something, or your parents were forcing you into rehab. You could have texted back so I didn’t worry you’d been murdered!”
I scoff.
“I’m too pretty to die,” I tell her. “Besides, I can take care of myself. Maybe I would be the one doing the murdering, anyway. You never know!”
It’s not a good joke to make, especially when I’m under investigation, but whatever. It’s not like Maggie would ever sell me out.
I think.
“Besides, I didn’t have any cell service,” I tell her.
The elevator gets to my floor, and I step out.
“Can you believe that? We seriously went into the middle of nowhere. Then I was tired, and I could’ve slept for a week, but instead, I decided to hang out with you.
” I make a face at her. “So you can insult me, apparently.”
“You love it when I insult you.” Maggie pushes past me into my condo and immediately takes her pumps off. “Camping though? Seriously? That sounds like torture. Did you at least get some good selfies with wildlife or pretty flowers?”
“Nope!” I say, grabbing her hand to pull her deeper into the living room.
Ryker had refused to let me take a single picture, which probably had turned out to be a good thing, given that Jimmy had ended up murdered.
Really, I feel for him.
Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.
Maggie plops down onto the couch, stretching her feet out onto the coffee table. Her toenails are painted blue, matching her hair and fingernails.
“God. That couldn’t be me.” Maggie pulls out her phone. “Anyway, you’re coming to a party with me tonight. I’ve got a friend whose cousin is Jewish, gay, and single, and even if you don’t hit it off, I know how much you appreciate an easy lay.”
I flop down onto the couch next to her.
Ryker had taken me bare.
If he knew I’d fucked some other guy, he’d regret that, and he’d never do it again.
Fuck, he might even disappear.
I can’t risk that.
“I’m sort of… seeing someone,” I tell her, which isn’t so far from the truth that it’s an outright lie, but at the same time, I think Ryker would also freak out if he knew I’d even hinted to anyone that we had anything.
Maggie lowers her phone and stares at me. “What? No, you aren’t.”
“What? Yes, I am,” I counter. “Godzilla-dick. Who the fuck do you think I went camping with? It’s not like I went because I wanted to experience nature in all its toilet-free unglory.”
“Camping… You went with somebody else? What’s his name? Do I actually know him?” Maggie asks. “If he’s some dick from a hookup app, you realize he’s probably a con artist or a serial killer, right?”
“What is with your sudden obsession with murder?” I retort. “Not everyone is a serial killer. Besides, he had ample opportunities to kill me, and as you can see, I’m still here.”
I almost touch my chest, but I resist.
He could have killed me.
If it hadn’t been for my ready supply of drugs going missing, I could’ve killed him instead.
Probably.
Maybe.
She purses her lips, and whatever’s crossing through her mind, I know I’m not going to like it.
“You really went camping with some dude?” Maggie asks. “This sudden bout of celibacy isn’t because…” She trails off.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Isn’t because of what?” I ask.
Maggie glances down at herself, then says, “Some FBI agents came to talk to me. While I was getting my nails done, of all things. They couldn’t have waited until I was done?
Anyway, they wanted to know where you were some night a month ago.
Like I keep your calendar. And they really wanted me to say you’d been at some grunge club?
As if you would ever set foot in a grunge club. ”
I don’t know if that’ll hurt me or help me.
Fuck.
“Well, they think I’m a witness to some crime or whatever,” I say.
Maggie stays silent for a while. “Yeah. I told them I had no clue, but that it didn’t seem like your style.
” She pauses again. “You were off the grid, though. You refused to fuck Rebecca’s straight boyfriend, and now you’re turning down no-strings-attached sex with a cute boy…
It’s not because you’re worried about the FBI, right? ”
“Of course not,” I reply. “I’m allowed to do new things, you know. And right now, that’s hooking up with the same guy a few times.”
Anger is starting to pool in the pit of my stomach. Doesn’t she know better than to talk to the feds?
“Anyway, don’t talk to them! They’re probably trying to set me up because they hate rich people. Or gay people. Or Jewish people! You know how goyim are,” I tell her. “I’m a triple threat.”
“Yeah.” Maggie doesn’t look convinced, but she shakes her head. “Okay. So. If you’re off the market now, then I demand deets. Who’s this guy; what’s he like aside from his Godzilla dick?”
He’s like me, I want to say.
But that’s not true.
He’s calm and methodical and mysterious.
He’d never be careless enough to take out a senator’s relative—at least, not without some detailed planning.
“You’d think he’s a dick,” I tell her. “But I don’t know. He’s just so fucking hot, and he knows how to use his body.” I hum. “He’s good with nature things. He tried to teach me how to start a fire in the wilderness! I am not suited for it, but he was patient.”
Sort of.
“Making you do hard labor is a good thing?” Maggie asks skeptically. “You realize that good sex isn’t enough to base a relationship off of.”
“Like you have room to talk,” I scoff. “You’re the one panting after a straight chick. I’m enjoying having something a little different, okay?”
I don’t like that I’m getting defensive, but I also don’t like that she’s challenging me on this.
“Anyway, shouldn’t you be supportive? Most besties would be thrilled I found someone I like enough to skip the casual sex for,” I tell her.
“I’m not panting after—” Maggie makes an annoyed sound and finally pulls her feet off the coffee table.
“I’d be supportive if I knew what I was meant to support.
Right now he’s some mysterious guy I’ve never met, who left major bruising around your neck.
Oh, and your wrists. We talked about safe kink, remember?
All I know is that this guy is too sloppy to take proper care of you. ”
“Just because he leaves marks doesn’t mean he doesn’t take care of me after,” I point out, finally sitting up straight. “He does plenty of aftercare. It’s no different from going to a BDSM club and getting whipped or whatever. Don’t yuck my yum.”
“We yuck plenty of yums,” Maggie says. “We judge people all the fucking time, Liam. Like when Roger got that awful piercing, we told him it’d get infected and we were right.
Because we were looking out for him. And also judging his bad taste.
Right now, I’m looking out for you, and also judging your probable bad taste. ”
I glare at her. “You’re not supposed to judge me, though. I’m pure and innocent,” I say. “I’m having fun, Maggie! Don’t ruin it for me.”
She folds her arms in front of herself. “Then introduce me. I want to meet this guy whose dick is so massive it’s ruined you for all other men.”
“Are you going to insist that he drop his pants so you can measure him, too?” I ask irritably, getting up from the couch. “I need a drink.”
“Make margaritas for both of us!” Maggie says. “And no, I don’t want to see his cock. Ew. But if I get bad vibes from him, you have to hear me out, okay?”
She’d definitely get bad vibes from him.
“Yeah, okay, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop seeing him!” I call out as I walk to the kitchen.
I stare at the counter for a moment. I can’t introduce Ryker to Maggie. It would be an absolute disaster. He’d hate her as much as she already hates him.
I get that she’s trying to be a good friend, and hell, I’d probably be pissed that someone laid hands on her. But it’s all consensual.
Mostly.
I grab the blender and booze, taking advantage of her demands so I can gather my thoughts even though I don’t feel like making margaritas.
I need to get her off my case.
I fix the drinks, then head back into the living room. “So how is it going with straight Rebecca?” I ask.
“Bisexual Rebecca is still with her loser boyfriend, who works as one of the sales clerks at one of those electronic stores. She deserves better. If he was a lawyer, at least, or a lobbyist!” Maggie takes the margarita and immediately takes a long sip.
“Lobbyists are boring,” I tell her, drinking from my own glass. “At least those sales clerks probably have entertaining customer service stories. Besides, it’s not like she is a lawyer or doctor or whatever, and you still want to climb into her pants.”
“She’s a paralegal. Do you really not know anything about Rebecca? After I’ve ranted endlessly about her?” Maggie asks. “I knew you didn’t pay attention to me, bitch.”
Oops.
I scoff at her anyway. “I pay attention to plenty. I know she posts pics of herself in a bikini on her socials. Which is a great look for a paralegal, by the way. I’m sure her employers would love that.”
“What, are you going to forward her pics to her bosses?” Maggie makes a face.
“Eww, then one of those gross old men will try to hit on her.” She scoots closer to me so that her arm presses against mine.
“Liam… I really am worried about you, okay? Grab your phone, text your new beau, tell him to meet us at the party tonight.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, fine, whatever,” I tell her. “I’ll text him, but I don’t promise he’ll show up. He’s not a people person.” I pull out my phone.
Liam
Maggie wants to meet you. Would you pleeaaase show up at a party tonight? Otherwise, she’s gonna try to set me up with some guy.
I don’t expect a response, which is why I’m surprised when my phone dings almost immediately.
Rider
Job in DC until next week.
Maggie frowns. “His name is Rider? And, wait, is this a long-distance relationship? Those never work, Liam.”
“He’s in and out of NB all the time,” I tell her dismissively. I try to decide how many details to give her and settle on none.
“Is he a trucker? Did you meet him at a gross rest stop bathroom where there are holes cut into the sides of the stalls?” Maggie asks.
“What kind of porn are you watching?” I ask, more to goad her than anything else. “No, he’s not a trucker. God, you’re such a judgy bitch sometimes, you know that?”
“So are you!” Maggie takes my phone from me, and before I can stop her, she types.
Liam
Next week then. Friday, 8 PM, Club La Rouge.
I snatch my phone back from her. “Maggie!” I hiss. “Boundaries!”
But I want to see him, and I want to see how he reacts to being completely out of his element.
Rider
Maybe.
I guess it’s better than nothing.