Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
First, I remove myself from my bed and head over to the bathroom. I turn the water on scalding hot.
This shit will need to burn me to make me feel anything.
As the water barrels down on me, I realize nothing will help. Not a shower.
Not the club.
There’s a void from where Bailey should be.
Once I’m dressed, I leave my apartment and head to the club. Hours have passed, and there shouldn’t be anyone there, just the people who work in the office. Maybe Carter. It only takes me about thirty minutes to get there, and when I do, the main room is empty. When I walk up the stairs, I hear voices.
“She was acting all cagey when I asked what she meant,” one voice says.
“Cagey how?”
“She said she deserved it . . . but when I said what, all she said was it was her fall from grace, whatever that means.”
“Do you think she was talking about Bailey . . . ?”
With that, I push the door open and storm into the room. They both are staring at me when I barge in. Their mouths are open, and their eyes are wide. They didn’t expect me here today, clearly. When neither of them speaks, I step closer. I narrow my eyes and drill them with my stare.
“Who exactly said what? And what does this have to do with Bailey?”
It’s Carter who speaks first. Stepping closer so I can see his face.
“Monica apparently made a comment . . .”
“Monica can talk all she wants. Nothing happened.”
“Not about that,” he says.
I cock my head. “Then what exactly did she say about Bailey?”
“She implied that the bitch got what was coming to her, and it was karma.”
“Karma?”
“That’s the thing that doesn’t make sense. When Amanda asked what she meant, she didn’t answer but was talking cryptically about Bailey’s much-deserved fall from grace.”
“She’s a bitch, but I don’t understand why you are talking about this.”
Amanda steps forward. “It wasn’t what she said . . . it’s how she said it.”
I step closer, standing right in front of her. “And how exactly did she say it?”
“As if she knew something I didn’t.”
I nod my head and then leave them to their gossip. Heading back down to the bar, I walk over to the VIP room. This is the first time I’ve been here since the night of Bailey and Reese’s accident. It brings back too many awful memories. While I was upstairs, she was down here drinking. Why hadn’t I followed her right away?
Because I thought she left. It never dawned on me that she would be here drinking.
The words Amanda said keep turning over in my mind. I’m not sure what to make of them.
With a shake of the head, I head into the room with the security cameras. I fire them up for that day.
I watch as Bailey storms down the stairs, then finds Reese and pulls him to the bar.
I switch to the VIP camera and watch as she proceeds to get drunk. Nothing on any of my cameras shows Bailey getting high or taking anything else.
Too bad I don’t have any cameras behind the curtains of the VIP private rooms.
I rewind the camera, looking for anything from Reese.
Anything at all.
But I still see nothing.
The only thing I notice in the video is Monica’s smug face. She looks like the cat that ate the canary.
I zoom in.
Watching her as she smiles a cool smile at Bailey. She’s gloating. She’s feeding into Bailey’s insecurity, and with every smile, Bailey drinks more.
I continue to watch over and over again.
Torturing myself, I watch as Monica goads Bailey until Bailey can hardly walk.
As much as I want to be angry with Bailey for getting drunk and succumbing to the pressure from Reese, I can see that this is also my fault as well as Monica’s.
On my fifth or sixth pass on the video, I notice something I never saw before.
Fuck.
I press stop.
I didn’t just see what I thought I did.
Did I? My fist clenches.
I press record on the computer and then send the information to my email address.
Once it’s completed recording, I storm out of the room.
There is only one person who can explain to me what the fuck is going on.
Monica.
53
Drew
I don’t waste any time going to the address we have in her file, and before I know it, my fist is banging on the door.
“Hold on,” Monica shouts from inside. I expect her to say more as I hear her approach, but she swings the door open. “Drew.” She smiles at me.
The smile is a seductive one. She thinks I’m here for her, but I’m only here for answers.
Answers only she can give.
“Come in,” she coos.
I’m still standing in the hallway, but I know I won’t get her to answer shit from here, so when she steps back, I enter.