Because of His Name (10 page)

But whatever the case, she liked it.
 
And then the reality of the situation
crashed into her and she felt stunned all over again.

LIAM
HOUSTON IS IN MY BEDROOM.

It was strange, and exciting, and so far
it had been pretty amazing all around.

He didn’t seem to want to leave her side,
and she was grateful for that, because she didn’t really want to leave his
side, either.

Grace took the sandwich upstairs, along
with a bottle of water.
 
She put the
Ziploc bag filled with ice in her pocket and then brought all of it to the
bedroom.

Liam was shirtless and in his boxers,
lying there on her single bed and watching television, his eyelids at
half-mast.
 

As she caught sight of him for the first time
in a few minutes, Grace was shocked to realize just how bad he looked.
 
His whole entire face looked swollen,
shiny and sweaty and raw.
 
His nose
was blown up to five times its normal size, and his eyes were quickly getting
more black and blue.

For a moment, her chest felt as thought
it had been doused with icy cold water, and she shivered.

But then Liam caught sight of her, and
his eyes opened wide and he gave her a grin.
 
“Shucks.
 
Is that for me?”

“Yeah,” she said, absurdly proud of her
sandwich making abilities.
 
She
brought the plate and set it down on his chest and put the bottle of water in
the crook of his arm.
 

As she got closer, she noticed the
bruising, purple and yellow, around his ribcage.
 
It made her wince a little for him.

He picked up half his sandwich and took a
bite and smiled, chewing.
 
“Best
sandwich I ever ate, Grace.
 
Thank
you so much.”

“Are you in a lot of pain?” she
asked.
 
“I can go and grab you some
Tylenol or Advil.”

He shook his head and waved her off.
 
“This doesn’t hurt at all.
 
Looks worse than it feels.”

It
better
, she
thought.
 
Because if you feel at all as bad as you look, then we’re in trouble
here.

Liam scooted over and motioned for her to
come into bed, so Grace sat next to him on the bed while he ate his sandwich and
watched the movie on TV.

After he finished the first half, he got
a baleful look on his face and handed her the plate.
 
“I think I’m all full now,” he said
softly.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.
 
His eyes were closing again.
 
“Just tired.”

“But I brought you an ice pack.
 
We need to get the swelling—“

“No, no—I’m…I’m seriously fine…” he
waved at her again, his hand fluttering for a moment, and then his head drooped
forward.

Grace got up and stared down at Liam for
a long moment.
 
She didn’t like the
way he looked at all.

But he was determined to do things his
way.
 
What was her choice?
 
To ignore him and call
an ambulance?

She couldn’t do
that,
she couldn’t go against his stated wishes just because she was a nervous nelly.

But she wanted to.
 
She really, really wanted to.

***

It was about two hours later that Liam
suddenly awoke from his dozing slumber on her bed and made the
announcement.
 
“I’m going to be
sick.”

Grace, who’d been on her laptop doing
half-hearted job searches, pointed to the hallway.
 
“The bathroom’s the first door on the
right.”

Liam stood up, seeming to rock
momentarily like a drunken sailor, and then he threw open the bedroom door,
went into the hallway and stumbled into the bathroom.
 
Grace stood up too, her hands clasped
together in front of her—feeling stricken.

She heard him retch a few times, then the
toilet flushed and the water ran.

When he came out a few minutes later, he
looked pale, and he didn’t bother to smile as he walked slowly back into her
bedroom and fell onto the mattress heavily, sighing.
 
“Shit,” he whispered.

“Liam, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.
 
Something just didn’t agree with me,” he
said, closing his eyes.

“I really think—“

“I’m fine, Grace.
 
Just tired.”
 
He sighed and pulled her blanket over
himself.

She walked to him, knelt down by his side
and ran her fingers through his bangs, softly.
 
She felt suddenly tender towards him.

His face looked boyish and fragile.

“That’s nice,” he smiled.

“Good,” she soothed, continuing to stroke
his hair.
 
When his breathing became
regular again, Grace got to her feet and pulled out her cell.

Something was wrong and she just felt it
in her gut, like a punch—an ache that wouldn’t stop.

She called the only person she could
thing of who could help her with this particular situation.

“Yeah?” her brother answered brusquely.

“Scott, I need a favor,” Grace said
softy, as she walked out of her bedroom in order not to wake Liam.

“I just gave you money a couple weeks
ago,” he said.
 
“Did you blow
through it all that fast?”

“No, it’s not money,” she said.
 
“I have a problem and I’m not sure how
to handle it.”

She heard Scott’s muffled voice telling
somebody to hold
their
horses.
 
“Okay,” he said, now back on the line
with her.
 
“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure how to say this without really
upsetting you,” she began.

“Then just say it quickly, because I’m
getting more upset the more you beat around the bush.”

“Liam Houston is in my apartment and I
think he might need a doctor.”

There was a long, stunned silence.

“Scott?” she asked, thinking he’d already
hung up on her.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well?
 
Do you want to know more?”

“How the hell is he at your apartment?”
Scott asked.
 
His voice sounded on
the verge of complete panic.
 
“Are
you kidnapping people now?”

“No, I’m not kidnapping people.
 
Take it easy.”

“I’m not going to take it easy,
Grace.
 
I should never have let you
help me with that wedding.”

“Let me help you?” she said, aghast at
the revisionist history.
 
“You
begged for my help, Scott.”

“Whatever,” her brother said.
 
“Just explain.
 
Explain what Liam Fucking Billionaire
Houston is doing in your little rundown tenement apartment building with you.”
 
He sighed with an abundance of
aggravation, even now, playing it to the hilt.

Grace walked a little further down the
hall.
 
“We spent some time together
last night,” she whispered.

“Okay.
 
And now what?”

“He took me to this weird underground
fight club today,” she continued.

“You lost me, Grace.
 
This whole explanation sounds like
something you came up with after taking meth.”

“I don’t take meth.
 
It’s the truth.
 
Liam got in a fight today at this
underground club, and then he wanted to come to my apartment afterwards because
he broke his nose.
 
But now I think
he might really be hurt, and he doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”

“You sound deranged, Grace—you know
that?” Scott asked.
 
His voice was
getting higher and more frantic.
 
“Fucking deranged.”

“He needs help.
 
What should I do?” she said.

“I can’t believe you,” he said.
 
“Shit.”
 
There was a long pause.
 
“I guess he doesn’t want to deal with
anything getting leaked to the press or anyone finding out about this,” Scott
muttered.

“Especially not his family,” Grace
said.
 
“And after eating breakfast
with them, I can understand why.”

“You ate breakfast with the
Houstons.
 
Why should I be
surprised?” Scott asked.
 
“In
Grace’s world, this is all perfectly normal.”

“Scott, please just help me.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he said.
 
“I’ll call or text you when I know
anything.”

“Thanks so—“

But he’d already hung up on her.

***

The knock at the door came about an hour
later, and Grace opened it, nervous but relieved that reinforcements had
arrived.

“Hi,” the first man said.
 
He offered his hand to her.
 
“I’m Red Jameson, and this is my friend,
Doctor Vogel.”

It was daunting enough to be inviting Red
Jameson into her dark and decaying hovel—Red Jameson who flew on private
jets and stayed in the finest five-star hotels.
 
Red Jameson, who Scott had called as a
favor to her, knowing that only another rich and influential person would know
how to deal with this mess.

Dr. Vogel was only slightly less
intimidating.
 
He was shorter and
much less handsome than Red, with a wide forehead and eyes that seemed too
narrowly set in his face.
 
But he
smiled as he strode past her, carrying a black medical bag like some doctor on
an old-timey television show.

As she walked them upstairs to her
bedroom, she explained what had happened with the fight and how Liam had
insisted on being taken to her apartment rather than to the hospital.

Since the first time he’d thrown up, Liam
had gotten sick once more, and he seemed to only want to sleep.

“Thank you so much for coming on short
notice,” she said.
 
“I’m sure this
is highly unusual for you.”

Dr. Vogel nodded.
 
“Yes, it is.
 
But I owe Red to the point where he
could have me do house calls everyday for the next year if he wanted me to.”

Red chuckled, giving Grace a reassuring
grin.
 
“Dr. Vogel’s being
modest.
 
Truthfully, he only owes me
about six months worth of house calls.”

They entered the room and Liam sat up in
bed, startled.
 
“What the hell?” he
said.

“Relax, Liam,” Red told him.
 
“You remember me, right?
 
We were at Easton’s wedding together.”

Liam stared at him.
 
“And who’s that?” he said, eyeing the
doctor mistrustfully.

“I’m Doctor Patrick Vogel,” he said, stepping
forward.
 
“I’m Chief of Surgery at
Mt. Sinai Hospital and Red asked me to come have a look at you.
 
I hear you don’t like hospitals.”

Liam glanced at Grace.
 
“You should’ve told me,” he said.

She shrank back from his mistrustful
stare.
 
“I’m sorry, I just—“

Red silenced her with a look and turned
to Liam.
 
“She did the right
thing.
 
You don’t look so hot.”

“That’s a nice first assessment,” Vogel
said, as he moved closer to the bed.
 
“But we need to dig a little deeper.
 
Why don’t you tell me what happened
today.”

Liam shook his head.
 
“I’m
fine, guys
.
 
I just need a little surgery.”

Grace blinked.
 
“Surgery?”

Vogel and Red exchanged glances now.
  
“You say you need a little
surgery?” the doctor asked, as he opened his medical bag.

Liam sighed, resting on the bed once
more.
 
“I said I just need a little
sleep is all.”

Dr. Vogel turned and looked at Red and
then Grace with a somber expression.
 
“Would you two mind stepping out of the room for a moment?
 
I’d like a little privacy to conduct my
examination.”

“Sure thing, Pat,” Red replied, and then
ushered Grace out of the room.
 
He
closed the door behind them.