Page 109 of Corpse Roads
Theo’s glasses are crooked on his reddened face, and his usually neat curls are sticking up like he’s been electrocuted. I can smell the vodka and beer rolling off him from here.
“Damn, buddy.” I lower the gun. “This is impressive for you. Did you have to break the whole kitchen?”
“Yes!” Theo shouts drunkenly. “Tell Hunter to fucking f-fuck himself.” He picks up a discarded spoon from the floor. “Here, g-give him this to help.”
I accept the spoon while smothering a laugh. “You’re bleeding. Christ, did you have to pull this shit when I’m home alone? I already get blamed for everything around here.”
Picking my way through the debris, I grab a cloth and soak it with water. Theo’s staring up at the ceiling with half-open eyes, clutching his sliced left hand.
I sink down next to him, our shoulders brushing. “Come on, give it up. If you need stitches, you’re screwed with me here.”
Wrapping his hand, I check there’s no embedded glass and apply pressure to halt the bleeding. He’s lucky it’s nothing major.
Hunter really would kill me if I let one of his best friends die on the kitchen floor. They could bury us in matching graves.
“What happened?”
Theo groans in pain. “I found the local pub.”
“That good, huh? I’m impressed.”
“My head hurts.”
“Serves you right.” I check his hand and nod. “You’re good, drunkard. Doesn’t need stitches.”
“Awesome,” he drawls.
“We wouldn’t want to fuck up your perfect office hands, would we? Look, not a single mark or scar.”
“Fuck you, Leighton.”
Snorting, I grab a brush from under the sink. “Is that any way to speak to your saviour? I should’ve let you bleed out instead.”
He clutches his head as I clean up, getting all the broken crockery hidden in the bin. Enzo will have to make an Ikea trip before Hunter returns. I ain’t shouldering the blame this time around.
Hooking my hands underneath Theo’s armpits, I haul him into a barstool. “That’s it, bud. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Don’t need your help,” he grumbles.
“Sure you don’t. I’ll make coffee, but please don’t throw up. I draw the line at cleaning your vomit.”
“If I do, it’ll be on your head.”
Flicking Hunter’s fancy espresso machine on, I locate some painkillers and dump them in front of Theo with some water. He missed a few glasses and cups in his destructive stupor.
He can’t even muster a thank you. By the looks of him, he’s had an absolute skinful. The stench of liquor is clinging to his flannel shirt and rumpled jeans.
“I heard you had a fight with the terrible twosome the other day and stormed out. Didn’t think we’d see you again.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Theo guzzles the water.
“Enzo was beating the shit out of the punching bag downstairs. I managed to get a few words out of him before he went all caveman.”
“Yeah, well, he deserves it.”
With two coffees made, I fall into the seat next to him. Theo’s far from my favourite person, but I can extend enough empathy to help the poor guy.
Dealing with Hunter and Enzo for years on end is bound to drive anyone to drink, let alone with the pressure of this fucked up case on top of that.
