Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Since making calls was off the table, he dove into his mountain of unread emails instead. After swiping two more tasks off his to-do list, the door opened, and a man dressed in ratty jeans and a wife beater strode into the building. He had a buzzed blond haircut, a cigarette behind his ear, and a forearm tattoo of a large-breasted woman.
Liam learned long ago not to judge a book by its cover, but he had a hard time imagining this guy not being a homophobe. Still, he prided himself on giving people a chance, so he walked out from behind the front counter with his hand extended.
“Hey there, I’m Liam. You’re here to work with Tate and Randy?”
He had a mildly attractive face with a blond goatee and dark brown eyes, but any appeal vanished when he sneered. “This a fucking joke?”
Liam blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Fucking Randy.” He laughed. “Always busting my balls. He make you wear that shirt?”
What? Glancing down, Liam frowned. Ahh, the T-shirt. He’d dressed casually today after Tate warned there was no way to keep the dust contained to the locker room, and he hadn’t thought twice about wearing a shirt from last year’s Pride event in New York City. A rainbow Statue of Liberty with glitter shooting out of the torch adorned his chest.
Here we go.
Sighing, he steeled his spine and prepared for a barrage of prejudiced garbage. “Uh, no, got this baby in New York last June. I was the headline performer at a club during Pride.” He struck a sassy pose as though that would help him win over this Neanderthal.
“So this ain’t a joke?”
“Nope.”
“I can’t believe we took this fucking job,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?” Liam narrowed his eyes.
Daryl stalked toward him, getting right in his personal space. “Listen, fairy, you can prance around in a rainbow tutu all fucking day behind closed doors, but keep it the fuck away from me.” He jabbed a finger in Liam’s face.
Time froze, and Liam’s chest seized. Fear washed over him, making his stomach sour and his hands shake. It’d been a long time since someone came at him with such aggression, but the memories were the kind that lived in every cell of his body. He wanted to smack that hand away, twisting the thumb until Daryl sank to his knees, begging for relief. But instead, he stood there, eyes wide and legs like spaghetti noodles.
Where the fuck were all the self-defense classes he’d taken over the years? The ones where he’d learned how to put bullies like this one out of commission. There was no fight in his body right then, just flight.
“Daryl,” Tate’s furious voice cracked into the room like a whip. He marched out of the locker room and grabbed his coworker by his ear, yanking him away from Liam, who scrambled back behind his desk. The two-foot barrier helped settle his nerves.
“Ow, T, what the hell?” Daryl cupped a hand over his ear once Tate released him.
“The fuck is wrong with you, talking to a client that way?”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? The boss know we doin’ this job? He know we’re working for a fucking fa—”
“Don’t!” The lethal warning in Tate’s voice made Liam tremble. “Don’t fucking finish that sentence. Get in there and do your job with your mouth shut.”
Daryl shook his head with a disgusted snort. “You talk about wanting to start your own business. You don’t have the balls to run a business. This,” he pointed to Liam. “Working with people like this is how you run your business into the ground.”
Well, that was just stupid.
“You’ve always been too fucking soft.” With that, Daryl stormed into the locker room, ramming Tate with his shoulder as he stomped by. A loud crash sounded, making Liam flinch. It was followed by a shout and a curse from Randy.
Liam swallowed. These were the men Tate associated with day in and day out. He’d mentioned this Daryl asshole was his brother’s best friend. He lived thirty seconds from Tate and Randy, and they’d grown up together and now worked together. No wonder Tate didn’t feel safe coming out. No wonder not a single person in his life knew he was gay.
With friends like that, Tate didn’t need a single enemy.
Liam’s heart splintered. No one should have to grow up afraid to be themselves, yet so many people did. The lucky ones were surprised to receive the support they deserved when they finally revealed themselves, but then there were the Tates of the world—the kids who grew into closeted adults and knew nothing but anonymous hookups and loneliness.
His pulse fluttered as he met Tate’s sorrowful gaze.
“On behalf of our company, please accept my apology, Mr. Brady,” Tate said, though his eyes said so much more. They revealed how Daryl’s words pierced him as much, probably more than they did Liam. “I promise this won’t happen again. Daryl won’t come near you while he’s working here.” He paused, then said, “But if he makes you uncomfortable, I can remove him from the job.”