“Uh…no.” I ran my hand over my head and down my face. “I’m, um…I’ve…shit.”
“What is it?” Michael asked. He sounded even more alarmed now. “Do I need to bring bail money?”
“No…I just…well, I don’t have the apartment anymore.”
“I see,” Michael said with a bit of a sigh. “Where are you now?”
“A phone booth,” I said. “Um…near Central and Ninth.”
“Did I hear that right?”
“Yeah, probably.” When it came to the bad sections of town, this area pretty much took the prize.
“Shit,” Michael muttered. “Liam, are you…are you using again?”
“Trying not to,” I answered, and my voice broke. “I was for a while.”
“Damon—exit here, head south,” Michael’s muted voice called out. “Liam, head to…”
He paused for a moment, and he must have had his hand over the receiver, because I could hear his voice but not make out the words. He quickly came back.
“There’s a shoe repair shop about two blocks down,” he told me. “They should still be open. Go there. I’ll be there in…twenty-two minutes, if this GPS is to be believed.”
“Okay.” I glanced down at the last four dollars I had in my wallet. “Um…Michael?”
“Yes, Liam?”
“You said…um…you always said if I needed something…” I let my voice trail off, hoping he’d just remember and I wouldn’t have to say it. When the pause got to be too long, I spit it out. “You always said if I needed something, I could come to you.”
“I have always said that,” Michael agreed. “So what do you need from me, Liam?”
“I need a job,” I said.
I was never one to swallow my pride, but it was the only choice I had.
Chapter 7—Swallow the Pride
“Jesus, Liam, you’re a mess.”
Michael hauled me into the back of the car with Damon’s help. The rain had turned bitterly cold, and I was shivering in my lightweight jacket. Damon took the gym bag I had over my shoulder and tossed it in the trunk of the Rolls Royce.
“Is there a blanket back there?” Michael called out the open window.
“Of course, sir,” Damon replied. A moment later, he wrapped one of those plaid stadium blankets around my shoulders.
Very little was said as Damon drove us to Michael’s mansion on the far north side of the city. I stared out the window and watched streetlights and cars go by, trying to keep any and all thoughts out of my head at the same time. Thinking just…hurt.
Michael must have called ahead to let his wife know I had contacted him because she was waiting for us on the porch when the car drove around the driveway. She even held the door open as I stumbled into the foyer and tried not to slip on the marble floors with my wet shoes.
I kicked them off, and Michael’s butler hauled my shoes off with a look of distaste. I ignored him and the looks he gave me. Chelsea came over and smiled up at me cautiously.
“Come with me,” she said softly.
She took my hand and led me up the stairs as if I had forgotten where the bathroom was. I didn’t have the strength to do anything but follow her lead, so I just watched passively as she sat me down on a stool near the tub and drew me a bath.
“Bubbles?” she asked.
I had just enough strength to raise an eyebrow at her, which made her laugh.