Huh?
“Wait…” I frown. “Did I speak to you last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the weirdest thing, I can’t recall anything.” I take the coat hanger with my suit on it and lay it out on the bed.”
“You called me three times. How much did you drink?” she asks.
Three times! What?
I search my mind for some kind of memory. “I don’t remember speaking to you at all.”
“What?” she asks.
“Did I sound drunk?”
“No, but you were very lovey dovey.”
“Define lovey dovey.”
“Telling me how much you missed me and stuff. You were as cute as. It made me miss you more.”
I screw up my face. Cute as is not my style.
I stay silent of a moment as I try to reconcile last night. No… nothing. I change the subject. “What are you doing today?”
“I have to go into the office to pick up some files. I’m going to work from home for the rest of the week. This eye of mine looks horrendous.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Where’s my wallet? It must be in my suit trousers from last night. I look around the room and see my suit crumpled on the chair. Fuck, I must have been drunk. I always hang my suit up when I take it off.
“What’s on today for you?” she asks.
“Not much. Same shit, different day.” I walk around the room with my phone to my ear. “We have to find Theodore as a matter of urgency. Apparently, there’s been a possible sighting in some country town. Who knows if it’s a genuine lead.” I pick up my pants from the floor and feel around the pockets for my wallet. It’s not there.
“I can’t wait for the weekend. What do you think the dress code will be for the wedding?” she asks.
Where’s my fucking wallet?
“I don’t know. It’ll be hot, so something cool, I imagine.” I continue to look around. “Your birthday suit works for me.”
She chuckles, and I smile. I pick up my suit coat and feel around. I locate my wallet in the inside coat pocket. I pick up my white shirt from the floor, and my stomach drops as I stare at it.
Red lipstick is smeared across the collar.
What the fuck is that?
April chats away as the room begins to spin. I look around in a panic.
What happened here last night?
My eyes go to the coffee table, and I see a silver wine chiller with an empty bottle of champagne sitting in it. There are two glasses beside it—one still half-filled with a champagne. Two glasses…
My stomach drops.
“Seb?” April asks, and by the tone of her voice, I can tell she’s asked me a question.
“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”
I drag my hand through my hair as I walk over to the bed in a panic. With my phone to my ear, I angrily toss back the blankets to inspect the sheets.
“I just said that I can’t wait to see you,” April whispers huskily.
I close my eyes. “Me, too. Listen, babe, I have to go. I’m running late.”
“Okay, have a nice day.”
My heart beats hard and fast. This can’t be happening.
“Love you.”
I screw up my face. Don’t.
“You, too.”
I hang up in a rush and pick up the pillow to smell it. The strong scent of perfume cements the evidence, and I throw the pillow against the wall in disgust.
What the fuck did I do?
24
Sebastian
The room continues to spin. I walk into the bathroom and lean on the sink. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My face has a sheen of perspiration, my hair is tousled, but it’s the disgust in myself that makes my stomach roll.
No.
I may be a lot of things, but a lying cheater I am not.
Fuck, this is a nightmare.
What the hell went on last night? I search my brain for a recollection of anything.
Let me think, I was sitting at the table.
Bart came over and sat down.
He told me that April’s contract was good to go and that I should sign it.
Then…
I screw up my face to concentrate really hard.
Nothing.
I need to see Bart. I know for sure that he was there. I march back out into my room and retrieve my phone. I dial his number, but it rings out. I glance at my watch. It’s only early. Maybe he’s in the shower.
I call Melody, the tour manager.
“Hello.”
“Hello, this is Sebastian. Can you tell me what room Bart is in, please?”
“Hi, Sebastian. Let me check.”
“Okay.”
I wait on the line until she comes back, “He’s on level 6, room 624.”
“Thank you.” I hang up, throw on my suit, and five minutes later, I’m walking up the corridor toward room 624. Jeremy is approaching from the other direction.
“Morning.” I nod.
“Good morning,” he replies, and we both stop once we get to room 624. “Are you here to see Bart?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He looks at me deadpan, and I can feel an undertone of anger. “Me, too.”
I fake a smile. Great. Don’t tell me that I’m arriving in the middle of a domestic. I’m not in the mood for their fighting shit this morning. I turn toward the door and knock.
Jeremy stands behind me, waiting for the door to open.
I knock again.
“Looks like he’s not here,” I say, half relieved.
“Stand aside, Melody just gave me a key.” He holds the card up to the scanner.
“That’s not necessary.” I get the feeling that something is going down between them. “I’ll come back later.”
The lock releases, and Jeremy pushes the door open. Bart is fast asleep in bed with a naked woman on either side of him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jeremy cries from behind me.
My eyes widen.
Fuck.
Jeremy marches in, picks up a jug of water, and he pours it over Bart’s head. “How could you?” he cries.
Bart wakes with a jump. He looks around confused and shocked. “What’s going on?” He jumps back when he sees the woman. “Who are you?” he cries.
The woman smiles and stretches. “Hi, baby,” she purrs.
“How could I be so stupid?” Jeremy cries before he marches from the room.
“Jeremy!” Bart yells. “I don’t know…” He scurries out of bed and falls onto the floor, disorientated. “What the fuck is going on here?” He’s naked with scratch marks all over his back and a large love bite on his neck. Red lipstick is smeared all over his face.
Hell, this is bad.
“I swear to you…” Bart cries. “I don’t know.” He looks around the room, completely shocked by what’s going on. He wraps a towel around his waist and chases Jeremy out into the corridor. I hear Jeremy going ballistic, with Bart hot on his heels.
Hang on. The same thing that happened to me has happened to him.
I think we were drugged.
I walk over to the bed. “Who are you?” I yell at the women.
“What?” They wince as they screw up their faces.