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“You got it. I’ll change that right now.” I say standing quickly. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, that will be all. Thank you, and again, I’m sorry about asking you to do this,” he replies.
I head back to my office, grab my phone immediately, and open Facebook.
There I see it was in fact Hanna who tagged me in the photo.
I sit down and begin going through the motions of un-tagging myself and making sure that all my settings are private. I go through posts and change the audience, and once I feel that I’ve gone back far enough, I feel better about it all.
Three hours later, the photo is still there, but I’ve done what my boss asked of me. I’ve been productive, but not with anything having to do with work.
I’ve researched everything that I could find about Vegas weddings, and it turns out that what happens in Vegas after all, doesn’t stay there.
But maybe I can just pretend.
MAXWELL
“You don’t remember? How could you not remember? You and she were practically humping one another’s legs in the VIP section.” Conner tells me with a laugh.
“I faintly remember a woman, but I was two sheets to the wind man,” I reply.
“No kidding. I don’t think I’ve seen you let loose that much since college, I think you were even more wasted than Marcus.”
“I agree. I was hungover as fuck, one would have thought it was my bachelor party” I say quietly.
“Well, you know some people do go to Vegas to get married, you sure you didn’t do something like that with this hot chick?” Conner teases pointing his water bottle in my direction.
“I wouldn’t do something as reckless as that. You know me, I think things through a little more than that.” I shake my head.
“While that’s true for sober Max, maybe blackout Max is a little more fun and daring.”
“I’m fun. I’m daring.” I cross my arms over my chest in protest.
“Sure, what did you do last night?” Conner asks.
“I worked late, came home and worked out.”
“Last night, I found a speakeasy and played strip poker with Japanese twins.”
“Not all of us live the kind of life you do. Some of us work for a living,” I point out.
“I work,” Conner says irritated.
“You’re a social media influencer, you take selfies with products,” I throw back.
“And I make money off of it, anyways, this isn’t about me. Do you remember anything about her?”
“I keep getting flashbacks to the night, but nothing substantial.”
“Anything good?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“This conversation is over.” I wave him off.
“Maybe you should get a private investigator if it’s bothering you. I’ve got a guy.”
“You have a guy for everything, but no. I’m good. I think.”
“If you change your mind, I’ve got you.”
