“Fuck off,” he says, grabbing for the bottle again; I pull it from his reach.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my finger at him. I walk to the kitchen and upend the bottle, pouring it down the drain. “I need you sober for this.”
“For what?” he snorts. “You going to kill me now?”
What the fuck?
“Why the hell would I kill you, dumbass?” I ask, moving to thecoffee pot. I get it started before turning around. He’s completely passed out on the couch. “Fuck my life,” I mutter. I should have brought Leo with me. Leo is going to be pissed when he realizes I left the house. Alone.
I dig through his cabinets until I find a coffee mug, filling it to the brim with black coffee. I don’t know how he takes his fucking coffee, but he looks like a black coffee guy to me.
“Zane!” I yell when I get back to him, making him jerk up on the couch. I grin before I can stop myself. “Wake up, asshole. We have shit to do,” I tell him, thrusting the coffee cup in his hands. Before he can push it back, I push it to his lips, not giving him a choice but to drink or have hot coffee poured down his bare chest. His whole chest and torso are covered in scars, ugly deep ones.
I can’t imagine what these two went through. I don’t want to push him, but I need him sober and cleaned up. Someone needs him, and I’m going to deliver.
“Fuck! That’s hot, you dick,” he splutters.
I ignore him. “Drink up. Then get your nasty ass in the shower.”
“What the fuck for?” he asks but takes another sip. “I don’t have a fucking job to go to or anyone that wants to see me. Get the fuck out.”
“No can do, Zaney,” I answer and then pause. “What do you mean that you don’t have a job?”
“I fucking quit,” he growls. “Out,” he says, pointing to the door.
Filing that away to ask about later.
I shake my head. “Nope. Drink, damn it. You do have someone who wants to see you.”
His eyes clear a little at that. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. Get your shit together.”
“Are you fucking with me?” he accuses, glaring over the rim of his cup.
“No,” I answer before looking around his apartment. “You live in a pig pen.”
His apartment is littered with trash, dirty dishes, and empty whiskey bottles. Has he been drinking like this for two weeks?
He just grunts and polishes off his coffee. I take the cup and jerkhim to his feet. “Shower. You reek.” If he were sober, I wouldn’t be able to manhandle him like this, but it’s fun while I can.
He doesn’t comment, but he heads toward the back of the apartment. I check my phone to see twelve messages from Leo and six missed calls. I told Dex what I was doing because we’d already talked about Zane, and he was actually on my side. I sent Dex in there with Les when I left, but I’m guessing Leo realizes I’m gone. I fire off an “I’m fine” message before pocketing my phone. I at least need to let him know I’m not dead.
Grabbing Zane’s trash can, I start raking trash into it from the counters. I set the dishes in the sink because that asshole could wash his own shit. I can only go so far to help him; that’s my limit.
Ten minutes later, Zane comes back into the living room dressed, looking a lot more alert and a lot less smelly.
I eye him critically. “Do you have clippers? Because that shit has to go,” I say, indicating his hair and beard. I don’t want Les to see him like this; it would hurt her to know he’s struggling this bad. She doesn’t need that on her too.
When he glares this time, it has the intended effect. “Will you quit busting my fucking balls and tell me what’s going on?”
I take a deep breath and decide with honesty. “Les needs you.”
He stops mid-stride while moving further into the living room. “What? She has you guys.”
I lean against the kitchen counter and cross my arms over my chest. “Do you think I was just joyriding through the slums and was like, hey, I think I’ll visit Zane?” I snort at that.
“For one, asshole, I don’t live in the slums. Two, I haven’t heard anything from her, so what was I supposed to think?”
