Page 1 of The Money Shot

Chapter One

Liam

“You know, Murph, it’s funny—four years here, and I still can’t tell if you’re the guy who’s always got a plan, or the guy who’s always one bad day away from chaos.” Jack muttered.

The room felt too small with all the boxes, and everything in it smelled like dust and stale carpet—a fitting last impression for a dorm I’d called home for four years. My cap sat awkwardly on my head, and I felt suffocated by the robe, as if I was wrapped in an oversized trash bag. Jack was squinting at his phone, fishing it out from the pocket of his slacks under his robe.

“Family’s here,” he said, eyes still glued to the screen. “They’re meeting me downstairs.”

“Same,” I said, checking the time. Any minute now, my parents would bust through the doors of the dorm like they were reclaiming their kid from a hostage situation.

Jack shoved his phone back in his pocket. “What about you, Brad?” he asked.

Bradley just shrugged, a casual half-smile playing on his face. “Dad’s in Paris for some important meeting or other,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Mom should be around here somewhere, though. Probably making her grand entrance as usual.”

I kept quiet, but I felt the same jolt of surprise I always did when I heard Bradley talk about his parents. Four years, and not once had we met his folks. Meanwhile, they traveled the world like some kind of jet-setting socialites, flitting between exotic locations as if his life was just another item on their to-do list. They took care of his tuition, made sure he wore brand names, but beyond that? It was like they were more his sponsors than his family.

It was so different from my family. My mom would probably cry when she saw me in the cap and gown, and my dad would pull out his phone to take a hundred pictures. The Murphy clan didn’t have much, aside from the old neighborhood pub they poured their lives into back in Boston, but they cared. Too much, maybe. They’d probably tracked every class, every project I’d had in the past four years, just so they could say they knew what I was up to.

Jack’s phone buzzed again, and he glanced at it, raising an eyebrow. “They’re getting impatient,” he said, slipping it back into his pocket. He gave us a grin, full of that boundless energy he always had, even on days like today. “C’mon, guys, it’s our last day here. Let’s rock our graduation.”

“Right,” I said, standing up straighter and slapping a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Can’t keep everyone waiting.”

“Stop staring at Jack,” Bradley grinned, nudging me. “He’s gonna think you’re in love or something.”

His words cut through the hum of anticipation, the air thick with that electric, unspoken current that always seemed to buzz between us. I tried to brush it off, but my gaze stayed glued to my two best friends. Jack and Bradley, draped in their graduationrobes, were tussling like little kids, each pretending to adjust the other’s gown but really just jostling each other. Anyone else would think it was nerves, but I knew better.

“Knock it off, you two,” I said, trying to sound serious. “Save the wrestling match for after we’ve got our diplomas.”

“Brad started it,” Jack drawled, his Southern accent just thick enough to make the whole ‘innocent’ act laughable.

“Did not,” Bradley shot back. All of his high-society airs stripped away as he elbowed Jack in the ribs, which only earned him another shove.

“Children, please,” I sighed, shaking my head. “We’re about to become esteemed college graduates. Can we at least pretend to act the part?”

Bradley just grinned, a knowing glint in his eye. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As the ceremony dragged on, the dean’s voice a constant background drone, my mind drifted. I thought back to our first day here, freshman orientation, when Jack—with that casual, magnetic charm of his—roped Bradley and me into a game of frisbee on the quad. That was it. That was when the three of us became inseparable.

“Remember when Jack lost that bet and streaked across the quad sophomore year?” Bradley whispered, his grin widening at the memory.

“How could I forget?” I chuckled, swallowing back a full-throated laugh. Jack, red-faced and committed, sprinting across the grass while everyone watched—all limbs, Southern pride, and nothing to cover it but a pair of sneakers. That was also the first time I realized how attractive he was, though I’d never act on it and risk our friendship.

“Hey now, let’s not bring up ancient history,” Jack protested, though he looked more amused than embarrassed.

“Or the time Liam stress-baked at 2 a.m. during finals,” Bradley threw in, nudging me. “Kept insisting sugar was the key to peak coding performance.”

“Hey, those cookies got us through Systems Programming, didn’t they?” I said, feeling my cheeks heat. What they didn’t understand is that coding didn’t come easily to me. When I first arrived at school I was an art major. But when I confided to Jack that I didn’t want to end up working at my parents pub for the rest of my life, he steered me in a different direction. Major in something techy, and you’ll always have a job. He was right. Jack always steered me in the right direction.

“Can’t argue with that,” Jack drawled with a smile.

“Speaking of nerds,” Bradley continued, laughing, “remember when you rigged the dorm room door with that ridiculous alarm system, Liam?”

“Because someone,” I said, glaring at Bradley, “kept sneaking in to steal my Pop-Tarts!”

“Guilty as charged.” He winked, not even a little apologetic.

“Never did figure out how you bypassed it that one time,” I mused, eyeing him suspiciously.

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