No sooner had I arrived at the station did the press. I felt like I walked into a shit storm and never got the warning.
“Haze, is it true? Did someone die last night?” one asked.
“Did you see the killer?” another chimed in.
I pulled my cap down, slipping into the studio when my phone buzzed. The station started the intro, but Donovan’s call punched me in the gut.
“Mate, get the fuck down here. This place is crawling with reporters, and I don’t fucking know what’s going on,” I said.
“Haze, there are some detectives here to see you. We’re playing the taped episode already. Man, what the hell happened,” Xander said.
Xander Hawk started at the station ten years ago, and now, the thirty-year-old male was running the show. He is proof that interns can make it big if they stick with something. Though the truth is he is sucking the dick of the station owner daily. Some people resort to head to get ahead.
“I blacked out in the back of the limo. I don’t know what happened other than someone fed me too much tequila or slipped something in the bottle. I woke up on my doorstep cold and shivering,” laughing, it wasn’t funny, but shit happens.
A loud exhale, and he was gone. The station was on its way up, and this was a tarnish they didn’t need.
“Mr. Luc, we need to talk to you about the event last night,” the first Detective said.
Without hesitation, I took the coffee from the counter, following two plain-clothed cops into the conference room. All I noticed was the one had toilet paper stuck to his shoe, and the other walked as he took it one too many times in the ass.
“I’m not sure what I can do to help, but I was drunk and don’t remember shit that happened after midnight,” I said, taking a seat at the end of the conference table.
Both cops sitting, the one on the right, tossed a picture in my direction. I’m not sure if he was trying to intimidate me or just doing his job. Either way, showing me the photo of some chick with her throat slit wasn’t how I planned on starting my day.
“Do you know this one,” asked the younger of the two—the one with the paper stuck to his shoe.
I leaned up in the chair, pushing the picture back to him, “It’s too early for that shit, Mate. I don’t want to see something like that. Have some respect.”
The older of the two pulled out a picture of his own, pushing it over with a smirk, “We have witnesses who said you went in the bathroom with this woman for over twenty minutes. Mind telling us what you were doing in the female restroom?”
I sat back, my legs propped on the chair across from me, shrugging, “Fucking. She offered, and I took her up on it. What the hell does this have to do with that other woman? It’s not against the law to fuck in the bathroom stall.”
“Look at the other picture again. Notice something familiar?” asked the younger cop.
As I looked at both, my pulse raced through the roof, “What the fuck. It’s the same girl?” How in the fuck would I have known that? They show me a picture with a woman covered in blood and ask me if I know anything. The last time I saw the woman, she was covered in my cum.
“I had nothing to do with this. We fucked, and I went back to my table. My publicist can testify to that. I don’t even know this woman’s name,” I said. Every hair on my body stood on edge. Why the hell are they badgering me for this and not out there catching whoever did it?
“Do you know she was married?”
I didn’t know, nor did I care. Things like today are why I like them married. I don’t hear from them the next day or a pregnancy scare. A married woman doesn’t talk. “Nope. I never bothered to ask, and she was begging me to fuck her harder, so the topic never came up,” I laughed. I reached across the table for my smokes, tapping one out. “Sorry, trying to quit, but well, bad habits are hard to break,” I laughed.
As both collected the photos, standing, the older of the two looked over with disgust, “If we have more questions, we will be in touch. Until then, don’t leave the country,” he said.
Lighting the cigarette, inhaling until the tip burned red, “Next time, contact my Lawyer. I don’t know shit about this crap, so there is nothing more I can help you with.” I leaned back, smirking. Didn’t they realize that I don’t give a fuck about this woman or her husband? So, fucking what, she got the fuck of a lifetime and died. At least she got fucked good before she checked out.
I waited until they left to walk out, running straight into Donovan. What a fucking friend he was. He chose pussy over his best mate last night. I would have done the same, but fuck it, he’s supposed to be my wingman for shit like this.
“What the fuck happened,” Donovan asked.
“Man, you smell like pussy. At least brush your hair or teeth,” I laughed. One more hit of the cigarette before passing it to Donovan. He was the chain smoker, and I only smoked when hungover. I’m fighting a bad one today.
Laughing, Donovan pushed his hair back with spread fingers. Using an impish grin, he looked up, shrugging, “It was good, I was drunk, and you know me. I’m a whore for a tight ass and a pretty mouth.” As he finished the cigarette, looking over with a slight shake of his head, “Why the fuck are the cops here talking to you? Did you know her?”
I couldn’t help but laugh when he asked that. My publicist is going to flip when he gets wind of this all. “She’s the whore from the bathroom. The one I nutted all over her face,” I laughed, my hands shoving down in my pockets. “Mate, she was alive the last I saw of her. Covered in cum, but alive,” I added.
Shaking his head, Donovan looked over, holding back his laugh, “Mate, you lost all your class when you moved to the States. What the hell is wrong with you? The woman is dead, and you used her for a cum sponge.”
“Bag and tag, Mate. You know the rules. Use them and never look back. Don’t go soft on me because you got laid last night,” I laughed. “Come on. They replayed my show from a couple of months ago. Let’s get some food.”
“I guess you bag and tagged that bitch, literally. She’s wearing a toe tag to prove it,” Donovan laughed.
As we both walked to the door, a voice from down the hall stopped us in our tracks. I knew it well and its scolding manner.
“Do not fuck anyone until this shit blows over. We can’t have you fucking them to death, Haze,” Xander called down the hall.
“Right, Boss, no more pussy,” I laughed, looking over to Donovan, “I need to get laid.”