Page 61 of Use Me
I didn’t know if that was true or not, but it seemed it was the only way it could have happened. Plus, my stupidity thought I’d had flowers delivered while I was at the Emmys, and that it was Jose who was bringing them up to me. But, of course, it was late at night, and deliveries usually don’t happen after five. Foolishness had clouded my judgment.
“I know, but if—”
“You’re a doorman, not a security guard.”
“I know, but I know who comes in and out of this building at all times.”
“Except when you’re off duty or on break,” Rhys reminded him.
He gave a slow nod with a tight smile. “Right.”
I grabbed his elbow and gave a slight squeeze. “It’s not your fault.”
Rhys and I stepped toward the door, and Jose opened it for us. “Have a good night.”
We hurried across the street and then up to Rhys’s condo. Once we were inside, Rhys led me to his shower and then told me he’d be back with a drink. I expected him to bring me more water, but instead, after I’d showered and dressed in one of his T-shirts, he handed me a tumbler with an inch or so of an amber colored liquid.
“Whiskey?” I asked as I sniffed it.
He nodded. “It will help you sleep.”
“What about you? You had to have been there when Ethan shot Philip.”
“I was.” Rhys sighed and looked away from me. I got the impression he didn’t want me to see how scared he really was.
“And you’re okay?” In my foggy state, I hadn’t even thought to ask earlier, but now my head was clearing, and I was feeling better, and more of what had happened was dawning on me.
“Well … I saw a guy die with you in his arms. That’s not something I’m okay with.”
“Ethan shot him while I was …” I whispered, but couldn’t finish the thought.
He nodded. “Yeah. Drink up, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Rhys undressed and moved into the shower as I went to the bedroom and took sips of the whiskey in bed. When he exited the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, he moved to his nightstand and gulped down his whiskey. I watched, still sipping the smooth liquor as Rhys stepped into pajama bottoms and then crawled onto the plush mattress and leaned against the headboard just like I was.
“Where do you want me to start?”
I felt my heart start to beat a little faster. I wanted to know what had happened, but it still made me nervous, as if I was standing on the edge of a cliff and just the thought of jumping made me anxious and uneasy.
“I guess start right after I was knocked out.”
I was silent while I processed the entire story he told me, and then I sighed. “I think we need another drink.”
“Hey, faggot!” I hurried and stuffed my books into my backpack, wanting to get to practice and out of the line of fire of Corey Pritchett. “I’m talking to you!” He grabbed the back of my backpack and slammed me into the set of lockers across from mine.
“I’m not a faggot!” I hissed.
“No? That’s why you play hockey, right? You get to see all the boys naked in the locker room, and that turns you on.”
“Fuck you!” I spat on him, not caring if he was going to pummel me.
“You want to fuck me, faggot?”
“Stop saying that!” I pushed him back, and before I knew it, he drew a handgun from behind his back. “What are you doing?”
“You think you can talk to me that way?”
“What are you going to do with that gun?” I continued to ask.
