Page 13 of Cosmo

The walls were painted a muted yellow or a soft white. The gleaming wood floors were always polished and the rugs over them clean. But there were signs. There were hints that something was terribly wrong.

If Liam could see that, even as an eight-year-old child…

Pushing those thoughts away, he turned and unpacked his clothes and placed them either into the small closet or the bright white dresser. The few books he had were stacked on the dresser, and he found the remote for the television in a drawer.

He set the TV onto a channel he would not watch and paced. That was what he did when he was stressed. He paced.

Before he’d gone to prison, he’d taken long walks. Sometimes he’d walk miles, just trying to outrun his thoughts. Then in his cell, he’d pace so much his cellmate would scream and beg him to stop. He didn’t because he couldn’t. Once his movement stopped, his thoughts began.

The television blocked most of them, but when he sat on the bed, he became antsy. Deciding to get a jump on learning about his new place, he left the room and checked out the two bathrooms first.

They were normal bathrooms, except they both had stalls in them instead of a single toilet. He guessed they were for privacy because if both bathrooms were occupied, no one had to wait.

Each had a tub with a showerhead, so he could choose, and he knew already he’d only use the showers. The last bath he took was when he was a little boy with his two brothers. So long ago…

The kitchen and living room were, as Murphy said, thick raw wood on the countertops, copper handles and fixtures.

The place was great, but what was the catch? There was always a catch. As Liam took a banana from a metal basket on the kitchen island, he felt as if he were stealing. Chewing it, looking around, he knew there was a catch.

Little did he know that soon he’d know exactly what that catch was. Far before anyone was ready for him to know.

Chapter Four

Goldie came to gethim for the dinner Murphy mentioned, and he was nervous as he nodded and closed the door of his room behind him.

It felt like he was walking to his death, but he had to get over it sometime. That feeling…people meant pain. People hurt other people. They couldn’t even help it. It was mental illness or bad moods, road rage, breakups, whatever caused it, they’d turn around and hurt others over it every single time.

Goldie made small talk while they walked to the stairs. “You’re from here originally?”

“Yeah. Well, Broomfield.”

“Same difference,” he said, laughing. “I lived in Aurora. Nice place, but I got into my share of trouble.”

“Let me guess,” he said as they descended the stairs to get to Goldie’s floor. “You’re reformed now.”

Goldie’s voice was deep and bassy, sexy as hell, just like he was. Shaved bald, muscled, dark skin shining with life. Yeah, he was the sexiest man he’d seen since before he’d gone inside.

But he was part of this group that Liam knew he’d never fit into, so there was no chance he’d make a move.

“Yeah, reformed. I got everything I need here. Money, a nice place, good people.”

“No one is good. Not really.”

“That’s cynical,” he pointed as they got to the landing and started toward their living room and kitchen. “But I get it. You just got out. It’s rough those first few months, my friend. You landed in the best place you could, though.”

“You…you guys got a gym around here?”

“We have equipment in the basement. Good equipment. Murphy likes us to stay in shape. It brings in the patrons, you feel me? I’ll take you down there after we eat.”

“Thanks.”

It was like Murphy had explained. The living room and kitchen of Goldie’s common area looked as though the seventies had never left. Orange, purple, and multiple shades of green were the primary colors, and it was beautiful, but strange.

Through a thick wooden door was the owner’s apartment. The walls were done in the old brick, like the bar, and the furniture was comfortable, white sofas, barn wood coffee tables, end tables, and such. Around a corner lay a gigantic kitchen, the island with the wood and metal stools surrounding it, taking up more than half the space.

Already, men gathered on those stools and once Goldie announced Liam’s arrival, they all turned and slid from the stools to greet him.

What a bunch they were. A tiny, overly thin blond man came to him first, wearing thick black eyeliner. He reached out his hand to Liam, and Liam noticed the nail polish that matched his eyeliner. “I’m Absinthe, or Abs, for short,” he said in a creamy, falsetto voice. “Welcome to the family.”

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