He scrolls through his phone, looking for more mentions of his name. I know he is not thrilled, but then he sort of likes it too. These douchebags, they don't even care how their name gets out there, just as long as it gets out there.
“Do you know who did this to me?”
“Well, I would, if I had some idea of who you were with last night! That's why we have the manifest, Kirkman. That's why we have approved visitors!”
“Shit!”
“So, think,” I tell him calmly. “Does anything about the picture jog your memory? Do you remember who was on that blue chaise with you? Do you remember her?”
He scrunches up his face, trying to think. I hope he doesn't give himself an aneurysm.
“Becky… Betty… fuck. Barbara?”
“Nice. So do you just show everybody your dick? Did you just get a first initial?”
“It's the gig, man,” he informs me snidely. “Getting with ladies is part of what I do. It's part of my process…”
“Yeah, fuck your process. We had an agreement, Kirkman. If I was going to work for you, you were going to stick to certain protocols —”
“— just find out,” he groans, staring at the front of his phone. I see Melanie's face, pinched and pink, as her call comes through. She'll give him way more hell than I am, just for doing this without her approval. So at least I got that going for me, which is good.
I just back out the door, leaving him with her wrath. There's no point in even trying to sort out the women who already submitted to background checks, and whoever else he picked up last night. I’m not going to find the culprit in the penthouse. Anybody who was bold enough to do that was not going to hang around.
But I am thinking that his reaction was genuine. He really did seem surprised and upset. So maybe he’s not just an attention-whore inventing “leaked” photos to keep himself in the news. Someone really did do this to him, even if it’s a one-off.
When I got this detail, I thought it was all bullshit. I figured it was all just some marketer’s cynical plan to get him on the news, and he was playing along. But I don't think he's playing along. Somebody actually is doing this to him. Now I’ve got a whole hell of a lot more work to do.
Chapter 28
Dahlia
I reach over and flip up the lock on the passenger side, watching Bunny as she talks her way out the front door of the diner where she works. She's all smiles, clearly laughing and joking around with someone else she works with, halfway hanging inside of the diner while I just sit here and wait for her. My fingertips drum impatiently on the steering wheel.
Finally she flings open the car door and flops inside, sighing dramatically.
“What a day!” she exclaims. “I think I got like twelve-, maybe fifteen-thousand steps today.”
I pull away from the curb and try not to scowl at her as she taps on the tiny LED of her Fitbit.
“13,763!” she continues, not even picking up that I might be a little bit irritated with her. “That's great, I might even be able to fit into those Gucci jeans I got at the thrift store if I keep this up!”
“Just think how much more exercise you'd get if I didn't drive you home,” I suggest calmly. “In fact, that really would be good for you, don't you think?”
“No, then I would get runners’ butt,” she muses, picking at the tips of her gelled fingertips as she stares distractedly out the window. “Too much of a good thing. I kind of want to slim down without bulking up, you know?”
“If you say so.”
I gun it through a yellow light, safely making it to the other side. But Bunny gets edgy, glancing around and sucking the inside of her cheek.
“You mad?” she finally asks me.
“Oh, what would give you that idea?”
“Well, you're driving like kind of a jerk, for one thing,” she shrugs. “Also, I suppose you're not making eye contact, and you are holding the steering wheel kind of tight…”
I don’t want to say anything, afraid that everything will come out all at once and just bury the interior of my little red Escort like an avalanche.
“Bad day at work?”