Braver (20 page)

Casey’s eyes left my face and looked around me to the car, where Liam was waiting. I followed her gaze and watched as his head lolled. He never would’ve made it home if he were behind the wheel.

“I thought you said you weren’t doing this kind of thing anymore,” she said, her brow knitted together in concern.

I laughed, waving my hands as if to clear the air. “No, no, no,” I said. “I’m not doing that. I swear I’m not. I just saw him getting into his car. He was going to drive himself home, and I just couldn’t let him. Not in the state he was in.”

Casey looked less than convinced. “I know what it’s like to think that some patrons are cute sometimes,” she said. “But whatever he said, whatever he offered you, you don’t have to go home with him.”

“It’s not a matter of going home with him,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m done with that shit. I told you. He’s too messed up to drive. I just want to see him back okay. I think I owe him that.”

“You don’t owe anybody anything,” Casey said. “And you don’t owe me any explanations. I just want you to be careful and not do anything you don’t want to do.”

I gave my roommate an impromptu hug to reassure her almost as much to reassure myself.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” I said. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

I hopped in the car with Liam, whose head lolled up against the window.

“No falling asleep on me,” I said, patting his knee. “You need to tell me how to get you home.”

I started the Porsche, the engine roaring to life. I touched the gearshift tentatively. It would be like riding a bike, right? I hoped so.

Liam lifted one heavy arm and pointed, so I took a right out of the parking lot. He mumbled something.

“What was that, Liam?” I asked, raising my voice a little so he’d do the same. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, you’re going the wrong way,” he slurred.

I stifled a laugh and went around the block before pointing us in the opposite direction. It had been so long since I’d driven a car, but it was something you’d never forget, I was beginning to realize. I might be rusty, dumping the clutch a little too much, but keeping it straight was easy enough. The challenge was coaxing out directions from the very inebriated man beside me.

“You need to tell me if I’m going the right way,” I said, making my voice clearer than it had to be.

“Not right,” he said, making me tap the brakes and look for the next street I could turn onto to get around the block again. “Not right what she did to me.”

“What was that?” I asked, fighting the urge to look at Liam. I needed to keep my eyes on the road.

“She screwed me over,” he breathed, his voice barely audible over the Porsche’s purring. “After everything.”

Where was all of this coming from? A red light halted our tentative progress, and I took the opportunity to look at Liam. His face was propped up against the window, and he was holding his tie in his hands. It must have slipped out from beneath his collar. The expression on his face — or what I could see of his face — was pure misery.

The light turned green, and I focused on the road.

“Does any of this look familiar?” I asked. “Are we headed toward your home?”

“In my own home,” Liam hissed. “That’s where she took him.”

I frowned. What was he talking about?

“I’m afraid I’m not following you,” I said. “But are we going the right way? Can you give me the name of the street where you live?”

I didn’t have much hope of finding it as unfamiliar as I was with this part of the city. But if I saw the right street sign, I could turn onto it.

“I’m never going to say his name,” Liam said. “I don’t care what he was to me. He’s nothing, now. And neither is she.”

“Okay,” I said. “You don’t have to say their names. That’s okay. But you do need to tell me where you live so we can get you home.”

“I know I did wrong,” Liam continued. “I lived at work. That’s all I did unless I was seeing her. But she understood. She said she did. That’s how I made my money. I had to be there to see it through.”

“You have to do things for yourself,” I agreed, not understanding what we were talking about. But I’d be screwed if he passed out before he told me about our destination.

“That’s what she said,” he exclaimed. “But she didn’t mean it. She never meant anything.”

I was beginning to discern that we were talking girl troubles. Was that why Liam was at the strip club tonight? He said in the parking lot that he hadn’t meant to come — and not in his Porsche. Did he stop in on a whim to have some fun? Or was it an act of desperation to blow off steam and numb the pain from whatever he was talking about right now?

“Turn left here,” Liam slurred, pointing as we passed a street. I eyed the name and went around the block until we were headed back in the right direction. At least he was conscious of where we needed to go, even if he was mumbling about strange stuff.

“That’s the last time for me,” he said. “I’m never doing that again.”

“It’s easy to think that,” I said, just trying to keep him talking, so he didn’t go to sleep. “But you’re stronger than you think.”

“Nope,” Liam said, shaking his head. “Not. This is it for me. I’m through with women.”

“Don’t give up on us just because of one bad apple,” I said, trying not to smile. “We’re not all the same.”

“I thought I loved her,” he said, his voice clear for the first time before he rolled down the window and vomited out of the moving car.

I gritted my teeth and slowed down to a crawl, wincing in sympathy as he emptied his gut onto the roadway.

“Get it all out,” I coaxed. “You’ll feel a lot better.”

“Goddamn tequila,” Liam said, sitting back down and wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Gets me every freaking time and I keep crawling back.”

“Maybe one day you’ll learn your lesson,” I said, smiling.

He shook his head. “Never do. Not with tequila, not with her.”

Curiosity got the better of me as I revved the engine and changed gears. “Who is she?”

“Fiancée,” Liam said. “Well, was. Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Maybe,” he repeated. “Who knows?”

He pointed to the entrance of a looming building, so I turned. I jumped as he reached for my leg, but it was only to fumble at the key fob, which, I discovered, contained a button to open the gate to the entrance.

“Is this where you live?” I asked.

“Valet,” he said instead, pointing.

I pulled up next to the building’s front doors and rolled down the window. The attendant recoiled in surprise, then recovered his composure. I realized I was still wearing my stripper makeup and flushed in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Liam wasn’t feeling well and I offered to drive him home.”

“That’s quite all right, miss,” the attendant said. “I’ll take the car.”

He held the door open for me, and I climbed out. “You know, if you can,” I started, “he kind of puked all down the other side of it. I think he had enough tequila to eat away that nice paint job. Would you mind rinsing it off or something?”

“Of course,” the attendant said.

I grabbed my bag and caught up to Liam just as he took a spill in front of the door, collapsing on the ground.

“Hey, now,” I said. “You can’t give up. You’re almost there.”

“There’s no point,” he said. “No point anymore.”

“Of course there is,” I said, hauling him to his feet and looping his arm over my shoulders. “We’ll get you cleaned up and to bed. That’ll be better.”

The doorman sighed and shook his head as we entered.

“Never seen a man who’s had a little too much to drink?” I demanded, feeling protective of Liam.

“Of course I have,” the doorman said. “We just all knew it was a matter of time before Mr. Henry got to this point. He’s suffered a lot of heartaches.”

I frowned. Mr. Henry. Liam Henry. The name was so familiar it made me twitchy.

“Can you get him up to his room yourself?” the doorman asked. “I can help.”

“We’ll manage, but thank you,” I said. “Just punch the right floor on the elevator, would you?”

“Of course.”

Liam moved his legs but wasn’t very responsive otherwise as I carted him to the elevator. I was worried about dragging the right room number out of him, but was surprised to find only one room once the elevator opened its door.

“Penthouse?” I asked, looking down at him. “Lucky thing. Don’t tell me there’s not point. I’d go home to a penthouse every night of the week, if I could.”