“It’s no big deal.”
“You did a great job on the haircut. Can I buy you dinner as a thank you?”
“I’m not very hungry. I ate a lot at lunch.”
“But you need to eat something. How about I order in? Pizza?”
I point to a drawer. “Menus are in there.”
He peruses them and places a call. Then he opens the fridge. “You have beer?”
“I’m not a prude, Liam. Of course I have beer.”
“But I’ve never seen you drink much.”
“I drink.”
“One drink is not drinking. Sometimes you have to relax and let go.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want to get drunk with me?” Then I realize I shouldn’t be fighting it. Maybe drinking together will loosen him up. Maybe the alcohol will make him more amenable to my touch. I motion for a beer. “Hand one over.”
He smiles. “Have you ever played drinking games?”
“I played quarters in college a few times.”
“Quarters? What are you, fifty? I’m talking beer pong. Flip-cup? The dice game?”
“Nope, sorry. I was the good girl.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn. Do you have a ping-pong ball?”
“Why would I?”
“Right. Dice then?”
“I’m not playing a drinking game with you, Liam. Especially not one I know I’ll lose.”
“Fine. Quarters.” He searches my cabinets until he finds the appropriate glasses. “These will do.”
“Are you serious about this?”
“Hell yes.”
“What are we playing for?”
He laughs. “You don’t play for anything, El. You play to get drunk.”
“Fine, but I get a mulligan.”
“A what?”
“A mulligan. You know, I get to try again if I miss.”
He looks confused.
“My dad’s a big golfer,” I explain. “You’ve never heard of a mulligan?”
“Whatever, let’s play.”
I take several practice shots realizing playing quarters is like riding a bike. Though I haven’t done it in years, I’m not half bad. We play and joke and laugh. By the time the pizza gets here, I’m three beers in and ravenous for more than just food.
“I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” he says when I take my second slice.
“I’d forgotten how well pizza and beer go together. I can’t tell you how many nights Jenn and I did this in college.”
“What were you like back then?”
“Pretty much the same as I am now.”
“Did you always know you wanted to illustrate books?”
I shake my head. “I loved creating things. Drawing, painting, sketching. I knew I wanted to do something with it, but I didn’t know what. I kind of fell into the children’s book thing during my senior year when a friend of a friend was looking for an illustrator, so I showed him some of my stuff.”
Liam drops his slice of pizza.
“What is it?”
“I’m figuring out how much I don’t know about you.”
“Because you rarely ask questions.” I put my hand on his. “It’s okay. I get it. If you ask me questions, you’re afraid I’ll ask about your past.”
“Some things are okay to ask.”
I perk up. “Really? What things?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know at the time.” He nods to the quarter. “Your turn.”
Two hours later, Liam stumbles out of the bathroom. “It’s late. I should go.”
“You’re drunk. You can sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not driving, El.”
“You still shouldn’t go. Riding the subway drunk is a bad idea.”
“So I’ll take a cab.” He tries to focus on me. “You want me to stay.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He gives me a smug little grin. “Admit it. You missed me.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I missed you. Is that so bad?”
His eyes dart to my bedroom. He sighs. “You’re drunk, too. If you think—”
“I don’t think anything, Liam. I just want you to stay. Don’t you want to?”
“Yes. But not on the couch.”
I’m shocked. “You want to sleep in my bed?”
“I miss sleeping next to you. I haven’t slept well since coming home.”
I don’t tell him I haven’t slept well either. For the first time in my life, I’ve laid awake night after night, thinking about a man. Now he’s here, asking to climb into my bed. I’m practically giddy, and not from the alcohol. “Okay. I’ll clean up and be there in a minute.”
By the time I put away the pizza and brush my teeth, he’s passed out on the bed. I change into my sleep shirt and crawl in next to him. Part of me is relieved he’s asleep. I thought drinking together might make it easier for him to allow more. But now I know that’s not what I want. If he lets me touch him, it shouldn’t be because he’s drunk. It wouldn’t be real.
I watch him sleep. I’ve missed this.
Hours later, I’m startled awake by a scream. “Luke!”
I touch his arm. “Liam, it’s okay.”
His eyes fly open. It takes him a moment to orient himself. He blows out a long breath.
“Bad dream?”
“I dream about him a lot. I still hear the gun go off like it was yesterday.”
“Can I ask you something?”
He hesitates. “Maybe.”
“You said Luke killed himself, but you also said he died because of your father. I’m confused.”
“Don’t call him that. The bastard’s name is Don. He was never my father. He adopted us when I was seven. Luke might have pulled the trigger, but it was Don who killed him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
“If Don wasn’t your real dad, then Dirk isn’t your real uncle. Is that why you hate him?” He’s quiet, and it makes me think I’ve crossed a line. “You don’t have to answer.”
His breathing evens out. I think he’s gone to sleep.
“Are you still awake?” he asks a few minutes later.
“Yes.”
“I hate Dirk because he blackmailed my mom and me.” He sighs heavily. “And I hate myself for letting him.”
Before I can ask anything else, he gets up and moves through the moonlight to the bathroom. I lie here watching him cross the room, realizing I’ve never met a man who makes me so happy and sad at the same time.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Liam
Thirteen years ago
The past week has been the worst of my life. Luke is dead. Dad is gone. Mom is a basket case.
We’re at Dirk’s house. We haven’t left since the night Luke died except for today, when Mom went to collect some of our things. Helen sends me to find Mom for dinner. I hear her and Dirk talking in her bedroom. I stand outside and listen. Nobody has told me much. Only that Luke shot himself with Dirk’s gun. They think I’m too young to be a part of their adult conversations, so no one talks to me. Dirk is always on the phone. Sylvia cries every time she looks at me. Mom gets drunk.
“You read the letter, Dirk. It was clear as day. It explains why Donny didn’t come back after Luke died. Luke says right here that he called Donny and told him to stay away from Liam.” She cries in agony. “He put his hands on Luke. He molested my son. He ran when Luke told him he was going to tell me everything. I’m calling the police.”
“Hold on, Colleen. Don is gone. He hasn’t contacted me or been to work. He didn’t show up at the funeral. As far as I know, he’s never coming back. He can’t hurt Liam now.”
“Maybe …” There’s a long pause. “Maybe he already has.”
“The letter doesn’t explicitly say that.”
“It does in the one he left for Liam.”
“He left a letter for Liam? I’d like to see it.”
“No, and neither will Liam. Luke said he
couldn’t protect him,” Mom says. “What else could that mean?”
“Maybe he meant he didn’t know how he would protect him if it came down to it. Right now all we have are a few letters from a messed-up kid, who may or may not have accidentally killed himself.”
My stomach tightens into a ball. How could they think it might not have been an accident?
“Are you saying I shouldn’t go to the police with this?” Mom asks.
“And put yourself and Liam through hell? I promise you this letter isn’t enough evidence to put Don away. All it will do is prolong your suffering.”
Mom cries some more.
“Let me pour you another drink,” he says.
I hear glasses clinking.
“Donny has to pay for what he did,” she says, sobbing.
“I think he’ll be doing that the rest of his life. Think about it, Colleen. He’ll get nothing from me. Not a penny. We both know the only reason he was able to provide for you was because of me. For all we know, he’ll be living on the streets. Lord knows, if what Luke claims is true, he deserves that. But you know what I’m willing to do? I’ll take care of his family. You won’t be able to give Liam a good life, not now. You lost another job because they wouldn’t give you time off. What if you can’t get another one? Do you want to go back to living in squalor? Stay here, live in the east wing. You and Liam can have the run of the place. You won’t have to worry about where your next paycheck is coming from. Hell, you don’t even need to work if you don’t want to. Liam’s college—paid for. Whatever you need, ask and it’ll be done.”
Her voice is thick. “As long as I never say anything.”
“It’s your choice, Colleen, but before you decide, you should ask yourself what’s better for Liam. Being put on the stand and through the wringer by prosecutors who will say horrible things about what might have been done to his brother? Or growing up here and not wanting for a single thing. He’s already lost Luke. He’s lost Don. If you drink yourself to death, he might lose you, too. Who will take care of him then?”
I’ve heard enough. Nothing they are saying makes sense. Why would Dad need to “pay for what he’s done?” Why would Mom go to the police? What was that word she used? Molested?
I return to the kitchen and tell Helen I couldn’t find them. She ladles soup into a bowl for me. “Looks like it’s just the two of us, mijo.”
She eats with me. She’s done that a lot lately, when the others don’t show up for dinner.
Halfway through the meal, she asks, “Don’t you have anything to say? You’re usually a chatterbox.”
I put down my spoon. “Helen, what does molested mean?”
Her face loses all color. She closes her eyes and mumbles something in Spanish, then she gets up from the table.
“Is molested a bad word?”
“Maybe you should ask your mother.”
“I don’t want to make her more sad.”
Helen sits back down. “Molested means that someone has been touched on their private parts by a person who shouldn’t be touching them.”
“So it’s bad.”
She nods. “It’s very bad.”
“Can people go to jail for it?”
“Oh, yes.”
My hands shake. I try not to cry in front of her.
She pulls her chair next to mine. “You’re safe here.”
“But what if they take me to jail?”
Tears come to her eyes. “I promise you won’t go to jail. Only the one who does the bad touching goes. None of this is your fault, mijo.”
Bad touching. My stomach turns. Is that what Dad did to me?
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I crawled into bed with Luke and touched him. That makes me bad. Is that why he’s gone?
I run to my room.
I want to go where Luke has gone.
I want to die.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Ella
“I’m happy to see you can still keep up with me,” I joke as we finish our run.
“I ran three times this week.”
“Without me?” I pout.
“Yes, but it wasn’t the same.”
“Running alone sucks. Are you doing anything later?”
“Why?”
“I was thinking we could grab something to eat.”
He slows. “That sounds a lot like a date.”
“Liam, we’ve gone out to eat together a hundred times.”
“With other people.”
I stop at my usual place and stretch. “Okay. We won’t go out to eat.”
“We can go. No white tablecloths or fancy shit like that, though.”
I raise a snarky brow. “Tacos on a park bench?”
He laughs. “How about something in between?”
“Okay. What time do you want to meet?”
“Can you shower and come back to my place? There’s something I want to show you.”
“Sounds good. I’d love to see your new apartment.”
A while later, we’re entering his building. Two police officers get in the elevator with us. We ride up in silence and get off on the eighth floor. The cops follow us out and down the hallway. Liam and I look at each other and shrug.
Liam fishes keys out of his pocket. One of the cops asks, “Is this your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Were you the one who called about a break-in?”
“No.” The door opens, and Garrett stands there, looking pissed. “What’s going on, man?”
“Someone ransacked the place,” Garrett says.
“Shit.” Liam rushes in, and the rest of us follow.
“Looks like your room got the worst of it,” Garrett says.
One of the officers inspects the door. “Doesn’t seem to be any damage. Whoever did this didn’t force their way in. You should check to see if anything’s missing.”
Liam makes a beeline for his bedroom.
Their place is nice, or it would be if it weren’t for all the upended furniture and emptied drawers.
“The door was unlocked when I got here,” Garrett says. “I called Crew. He and Bria left around noon. He’s sure he locked the door.”
“Whoever it was had a key,” the officer says. “Or is one hell of a locksmith.”
“Nobody else has a key,” Garrett says. “We only moved in a few days ago.”
“We’ll check with the super and see if the locks were changed. If not, it could be an angry ex-tenant. Maybe they got evicted.”
Crew and Bria run in. Bria covers her mouth in shock. “Who would do this?”
“You live here, too?” the tall cop says.
“Yes, both of us,” Crew tells him.
“Can you check to see if anything was taken?”
A few minutes later, Bria comes out with her jewelry box. “It was scattered on the floor, but everything is here. Even my mom’s wedding rings.”
Liam returns, carrying a guitar. “We weren’t robbed.”
“What do you mean? Look around. Of course you were.”
He ignores me. “You missing anything, Garrett?”
“No.”
He turns to Bria. “How about you?”
She shows him the rings.
“Whoever did this wasn’t searching for money or even shit to pawn. This guitar is worth almost ten thousand bucks.”
“But … why then?” Bria asks.
Liam shoots Crew a look. “This has Dirk written all over it.”
“Your uncle?” I ask. “Why would he do this?”
“Fuck!” He rights a chair and sinks down on it. “Yesterday outside IRL, I told him I had video on a flash drive that could ruin him.”
The shorter officer frowns. “Something was taken, then. A flash drive?”
Liam says, “It’s not here. I keep it in a safe deposit box.”
“So nothing was stolen?”
Liam looks at Garrett, Crew, and Bria. They shake their heads. “Not as far as we know.”
/> Crew picks things up off the floor.
“Stop,” I say, turning to the cops. “Don’t you have to take pictures and dust for prints?”
“You watch a lot of TV,” the tall one says. “Nothing was stolen. There doesn’t even appear to be any damage. Count yourselves lucky. Most places that get tossed don’t look so good.”
“You’re not going to do anything?” I say, appalled.
“We’ll fill out a report. If you have any additional information, call us.”
“But we know who did it,” Bria says.
Liam makes a rude sound. “Dirk wouldn’t have done it himself. There’d be no way to prove it.”
The police get statements from them and leave.
An hour later, we’re all sitting in the living room. On top of the coffee table are the only two casualties: a broken dish and a splintered picture frame.
“You really think Dirk did this?” Garrett asks.
“Who else?” Liam says. “Looters might not know about the guitar, but Bria’s rings—they’d be gone. I’m one hundred percent sure it was him. Fucking asshole.”
“How did he get in without damaging the lock?” Bria asks.
“Dirk knows lots of shady people. They either picked it or bribed the super.”
“Maybe the super will talk,” she says.
“You don’t know Dirk. Do you think he’s that stupid? He’s perfected the art of covering his tracks. It’s pointless to go after him.”
“What’s on the video?” Garrett asks.
Liam and Crew get shuttered looks.
“What?” Garrett says, glancing between them. “I know there’s stuff you don’t want to talk about, but this is getting serious.”
“Blackmail,” Liam says. “The video shows him blackmailing my mom.”
“Why did he do that?”
I stand abruptly, knowing Liam doesn’t want to answer him. “Does it really matter? I’m going to the kitchen. Anyone want anything?”
Nobody responds.
“You keep it in a safe deposit box?” Garrett asks him. “Must be some pretty damning evidence.”
“It is.”
“Is this why you wanted to get out of his house?”
“Yeah.”
“Does this have anything to do with why he bought IRL?” Garrett is like a dog with a bone.
Reckless Invitation (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Page 20