Page 13 of The Money Shot
He sighed, one of those deep, bone-weary exhales that made my chest ache just hearing it. “Work stuff,” he muttered, not looking at me. “Nothing to worry about.”
I leaned against his dresser, crossing my arms. “You sure? You’ve seemed off since you came home.”
For a moment, I thought he might open up, tell me what was really gnawing at him. But he just gave a half-hearted shrug, still not meeting my eyes. “I just had a long day, that’s all. Don’t worry about it, Jack.”
It was so unlike him—Liam, the one who always knew what to say, who had this quiet steadiness about him that kept us all grounded. Now he looked almost… defeated.
But instead of pushing, I swallowed down the questions swirling in my mind and forced myself to smile. “Alright,” I said,trying to keep my tone light. “Just… don’t keep it all in, okay? I’m here if you need to vent or whatever.”
He finally glanced over at me, a flicker of something like gratitude in his tired eyes. “Thanks, Jack. Good night.”
I nodded, giving him a small wave before I slipped back out, pulling his door closed behind me.
I sat at the kitchen counter, fingers wrapped around my mug, staring into my coffee like it might have answers. I hadn’t slept much—kept replaying last night, the way Liam looked so... off. It felt like there was this heavy fog between us, something weighing him down. But he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and I wasn’t about to push him to open up.
The muffled sound of water pipes told me someone was showering, probably Bradley, which meant Liam was up too, dragging himself out of bed. I took another sip, letting the bitterness ground me. Just as I was losing myself in thought, Liam shuffled in, hair damp and eyes bleary, looking like he’d slept even worse than I had.
“Morning,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual, as if I wasn’t watching him like a hawk.
“Morning,” he mumbled, heading straight for the coffeepot. He poured a steaming stream into his thermos, barely looking my way.
I waited a beat, hoping he’d say something else, maybe hint at what was bothering him. But he just screwed the lid onto his thermos and took a sip, eyes fixed on the counter. “You sleep okay?” I ventured.
“Fine,” he muttered, though he looked anything but.
I opened my mouth to say something else, maybe try a little harder, but then Bradley waltzed into the kitchen, grinning and rubbing his hands together like he was a kid on Christmas morning. “Boys!” he declared, bouncing a little on his toes. “Just two more days until the party. Got the playlist all set—mix of classic bangers, some new stuff, a little surprise or two. It’s gonna be awesome.”
Liam rolled his eyes, but I caught the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
We all grabbed our bags, and Bradley kept going on about the party, rattling off guest lists, drink ideas, and what he called “party vibes” as we headed down the hallway. Liam stayed quiet, nursing his thermos like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
In the elevator, Bradley leaned against the wall, still buzzing with energy. “So, Jack, I was thinking. We need some lights, you know? Set the mood. I’m talking serious ambiance. People need to feel like they’re stepping into something next level. Like, electric.” He snapped his fingers, grinning widely.
I just nodded, half-listening as the elevator hummed and lurched its way down. When we hit the sixth floor, the doors slid open, and there was Nessa, standing there in a nightgown that probably wasn’t meant for public appearances. She grinned when she saw us, her eyes twinkling like we were her favorite surprise of the morning.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my three favorite boys,” she said, stepping into the elevator and pressing herself between me and Bradley. “Looking sharp, gentlemen.”
“Morning, Nessa,” Bradley said, eyes twinkling. He leaned in, letting his voice drop a little. “You’re a vision, as always.”
“Oh, stop,” she said, giggling and giving him a playful slap on the arm. Then she looked over at me, giving me a once-over.“And you, Jack, honey—you’re looking way too good to be up this early. What are they feeding you boys, huh?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Just coffee, Nessa. Lots of it.”
Then her eyes flicked to Liam, and her smile softened. She looped her arm around his shoulder, leaning into him in that dramatic way of hers. “Oh, Liam, sweetheart. You look like you could use a pick-me-up.” She patted his shoulder, giving him a little squeeze. “What’s got you so down? You’re usually my little ray of sunshine.”
Liam forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just tired, Nessa. Nothing serious.”
She pulled him closer, patting his back like he was a little kid. “Well, don’t let it get you down, baby. The world’s not ready for a sad Liam, you hear me?”
He let out a quiet laugh, a little more genuine this time, and I felt my shoulders relax. Leave it to Nessa to chip away at his defenses.
The elevator finally chimed, and the doors slid open to the lobby. Nessa strutted out first, throwing a wink over her shoulder. She stopped by the security desk, where Dimitri sat, glowering at his monitor like it had personally offended him. She leaned in, whispering something that made him roll his eyes but crack a small, reluctant smile.
We passed them and headed out the doors, Bradley still rattling off his plans for the party as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “And we need streamers, obviously. Maybe a disco ball if I can find one last minute. You think the party store down the block has one? I should probably check after work.”
We stepped out onto the sidewalk, joining the morning rush of people on their way to the subway. Bradley led the way, still yammering on about the party—something about drink specials he wanted to try and a “signature cocktail” he was brainstorming. I glanced at my watch and felt a jolt of urgency.“Guys, we’re running late,” I said, nudging Liam and picking up the pace.
Bradley, unfazed, continued to talk a mile a minute, but at least he sped up. Liam shuffled behind us, still quiet, his shoulders hunched like he was carrying something heavier than his bag. We reached the subway station just as the train rolled in; the doors sliding open with a hiss. We squeezed inside, finding ourselves packed tight with the early commuters, everyone jostling for a grip on the overhead bar.