Page 29 of The Money Shot

I reached the platform and looked around for Liam. He was usually here before me, waiting near our usual spot. I pulled out my phone to text him, but when I looked up, I spotted him—across the tracks, where the train from Long Island City was just arriving.

“What the hell?” I waved, but Liam turned, racing toward the exit stairs. I was about to call out when my train arrived, the doors hissing open. Just as I settled into a seat, I saw Liam hurrying down the platform, dodging the last few people as he slipped onto the train. He plopped down next to me, looking a bit flushed.

I wanted to ask Liam where he was coming from, but after the day I’d had, I said nothing.

Liam leaned back and gave me a sympathetic look. “So…how was work?”

“Day from hell,” I muttered, glancing out the window as the train lurched forward.

The four-minute ride felt both endless and too short.

When we finally reached our stop, we got off and walked home in silence. The moment we entered our building, Nessa swooped in like she’d been waiting for us, her red lipstick brighter than usual, clutching her phone like a prize.

“Liam! Is this you on Instagram? I know it’s not your name, but he looks just like you.” She shoved the phone under Liam’s nose.

I didn’t see the screen, but Liam went pink instantly, his usual calm crumbling. “Uh, no, that’s…someone else.”

He grabbed my arm, tugging me toward the elevator before Nessa could get another word out. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, I turned to him. “What was that about?”

He stared at the floor, scuffing his shoe against the metal. “Nothing. She just, uh…must’ve mistaken me for someone else. You know Nessa. Flighty.”

“Right.” I shrugged, too tired to question it. The elevator dinged, and we trudged to our apartment. As soon as I unlocked the door, Liam went straight for the kitchen. I made for my room, shutting the door behind me and flopping onto the bed. I closed my eyes, savoring the quiet for a moment, letting the day melt away.

Then I caught a whiff of something—not just sweat, something funkier. I opened my eyes and noticed a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. Right, dirty gym clothes. I sighed, peeling myself off the bed, and tossed on a pair of sweats before hauling my clothes to the end of the hall where the washer and dryer were tucked away.

I opened the washer, ready to throw my stuff in, but it was already full. Dirty laundry—Liam’s. I huffed, half-annoyed, wondering if he’d forgotten to turn it on. I reached in to pull out a few things, and my hand hit something that definitely wasn’t Liam’s usual boxer briefs. Black mesh underwear. Sexy. I pulled them out, staring at them for a second longer than I should’ve, imagining for a split second what they’d look like on him.

My face warmed. I stuffed them back in the washer and reached deeper, only to feel a weird, slick texture. Oil. The entire load felt greasy, like something had spilled.

“Liam?” I called out, not sure what to make of it.

Footsteps came down the hall, and Liam appeared with a beer, stopping a few feet away when he saw me holding up the black mesh underwear. His eyes went wide, and his cheeks went pink again.

“What’s up with the…uh, sexy underwear and the greasy sheets?”

Chapter Seventeen

Liam

Iducked my head, heat creeping up my neck, and managed a half-smile as I mumbled, "I... I’m just... exploring some things, Jack. You know, having a little sexy fun." I forced a laugh, trying to keep things light, hoping he’d buy the story. "Can you maybe... just let me handle this on my own?" Jack’s face softened a little, and I caught a hint of concern in his eyes.

Without waiting for him to probe any further, I spun around, hurried to my room, and shut the door behind me. Letting out a shaky breath, I collapsed face-first onto the bed. "Why can’t this be easier?” I whispered into my pillow, as if somehow the universe would answer me.

I fumbled for my phone, pressed on the banking app, and waited while it loaded. My throat tightened as I saw the new numbers staring back at me. There it was: my tiny severance check and that first unemployment deposit. It was something, at least, but once rent was paid, there’d be next to nothing left for food, bills, anything else. I dropped my head back onto the pillow, feeling the familiar burn of frustration in my eyes. Out of everyone in this world, Jack was the last person I wanted to disappoint.

Then I heard the creak of the door to our shared bathroom. I bolted upright, a quick jolt of panic running through me as I wondered if I’d left any evidence of my last video taping lying around. I mean, afterward I’d gone in the bathroom and cleaned up. Did I leave something naughty in there? But after a mental run-through of this morning, I remembered putting everything away. Still, that door opening so close by reminded me of just how risky all of this was.

I bit my lip, thinking fast. Maybe I could take my setup somewhere else—Bradley’s old room, maybe? The place was just sitting there, gathering dust since he left. And it had its own bathroom. Less risk, fewer eyes. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was better than nothing.

The faint sound of the shower running from our bathroom told me Jack would be occupied for a while. Heart pounding, I slid off the bed and crept out of my room, trying to make each step down the hall as silent as possible.

I eased open Bradley's door and was immediately hit by the chaos inside. It looked like a hurricane had torn through here. The mattress was half-off the bed frame, flopping down like it’d just given up. Every single drawer was yanked out and left hanging open, the contents spilling onto the floor—clothes, old paperwork, stray socks, and other things his parents had left behind. Even the carpet in the walk-in closet had been pulled up and rolled back, exposing patches of wood and a surprising amount of dust.

“Damn,” I muttered, taking it all in. The cops hadn’t left a single corner untouched when they’d searched for Bradley’s stash. But as messy as it was, I could work with this. Actually, considering the alternative of doing this in my own room, this place was kind of ideal.

For one, I had it all to myself. And two… the space was a serious upgrade. Bradley’s parents had been so upset abouteverything, they’d left his furniture behind instead of hauling it back. I’d half-expected them to storm in here with a moving truck and rip everything out, but here it all was, just waiting for me to make it useful.

I stepped over a pile of abandoned books and gave the mattress a good shove, straightening it out on the frame. That done, I took in the room with a little more vision. Sure, it was a wreck right now, but all I needed to do was clean up the mess, throw on some fresh sheets, and I’d have the perfect setup. Plus, the lighting in here was a thousand times better than in my room. There was floor-to-ceiling windows, and soft, natural light streamed in, casting the whole room in a kind of warm, inviting glow. I didn’t even need any extra equipment to make it look professional.