Page 109 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
One of the guards takes one look at Reece, recognition flashing in his eyes, and waves us through without a word.
The elevator ride is quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and the faint buzz of the numbers changing on the panel above.
I can tell Reece is anxious, running through scenarios in his head for what we’re about to walk into.
While I don’t know Liam as well as he does, even I know this is unusual behavior for him.
When the elevator lands, we step out onto a quiet floor that only has a few doors lining the walls.
We head for the one at the very end of the hall, stopping in front of it to let Reece input the code to unlock the door.
The moment we step inside the apartment, the smell hits me. Liquor, pungent and unmistakable, mixed with the stale edge of takeout food. Just like the lobby, the apartment is huge.
A long corridor that leads into an expansive living room with windows that face the skyline.
The only light in the room comes from the glow of the muted TV mounted on the wall above an ornate fireplace.
Liam’s sprawled out on the couch like he’s melted into it, head tipped back, eyes glassy.
His hair is sticking up in every possible direction, remnants of his hands running through it a hundred times.
A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the coffee table. Beside it are cans of cheap beer, some of them overturned.
The amber liquid from one of the toppled ones has dripped onto the table, leaving a water ring stain on the wood.
Around all of that are takeout boxes from various local restaurants. Most of the food is only half eaten or picked through.
“Hey, man,” Reece says. “What’s going on?”
Liam blinks at us slowly, unfocused, before pushing himself up on his elbows.
“He okay?”
“Jack’s an ass,” he slurs back.
I glance at Reece, catching him glance right back at me.
No words are exchanged between us, just a mutual understanding that whatever fight Liam and Jack had earlier, it was a bad one.
It takes both of us to haul him upright.
He’s as heavy as he looks, his toned body a dead weight.
We drag him off the couch despite him muttering under his breath words that neither of us can catch because they blend together so badly.
It’s an awkward and slow half-drag down the hall to his bedroom, but we get him there.
“Drink this,” Reece orders once we have him in bed, shoving a glass of water into his hand.
Liam takes one look at it and waves him off with a clumsy flick of the wrist. “M’fine.”
He’s already letting his head drop back onto the pillow, eyes fluttering closed.
“Sure you are,” Reece says, not even trying to hide the sarcasm.
We leave him to sleep it off, closing the door gently behind us.
Without speaking, we start picking up.
