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Chapter 19
David
Bzzz. Bzzz.
“Ughh, fuck.” I hit my phone, throwing it to the ground. A pulsing ache strikes between my eyes, and I can smell the stale liquor wafting in the air.
“Oh, hell no.” I grab the covers and pull them over my head. I don’t want to deal with this right now.
I haven’t been this hungover in a while—or hungover at all actually, seeing as I haven’t been partying. Thanks to Vivienne.
I forgot how fucking wretched these things are. I do not miss this feeling…at all.
I hear the buzzing continue on the floor, and my annoyance gets the better of me.
“Leave me alone!” I scream at…my phone.
Wow, I’m pathetic.
I slowly drag myself up, pulling the covers off me, and retrieve my phone from the other side of the room.
I have twenty fucking notifications. From the last five minutes. That’s ridiculous, even for me.
I glance at the few text messages—an unknown but very naked woman, a few from Scott, and the rest from Charles. There’s even an email from Charles with URGENT as the subject line.
I roll my eyes, getting more annoyed.
Nope, don’t roll your eyes. That fucking hurts. I clutch my pounding head and run to the bathroom in search of all the aspirin in the kingdom.
Swallowing the pills, I slightly lament over the bullshit I know these messages will bring me.
I take a deep breath.
All right, let’s figure out why Charles is all riled up.
Did you see this?he writes, and I scroll further down to see a headline in one of the tabloids:
Debaucherous David back at it again, but this time with a soon-to-be Mrs. at home.
Oh, shit, this isn’t good.
Scenes from the night play in my head. But it’s like a game of charades—I see people moving yet I don’t understand what’s happening.
Oh…that blonde was there. Shit, I remember buying her a drink. Did I…fuck her? I look back at my bed for confirmation.
No, I didn’t! Thank fucking God.
Did I kiss her? No…I don’t think so. There was a lot of hugging, though. She really did have nice tits.
I shake my head. That’s not what’s important right now.
I run down to my office and start gathering more clues. The scenes become more vivid as I look over random photographs the tabloids have already printed.
Damn, it still amazes me how fast they are. They waste no fucking time when it comes to slandering me and my reputation.
Looking over them, I see one of Scott and me taking a shot, one of me pouring myself some whiskey, and—
Fuck.
