Are you OK? Call me man.
HENDERSON, CALL ME BACK. WERE YOU WITH HER?
I sigh, dialing Grayson without bothering to listen to the voicemails. I'm sure they're just more of him with his knickers in a twist.
I run my hand through my hair, unsure of how I'm going to tell him that we didn't really even talk about The Edison. He's so worked up already. He's going to flip his lid.
"Oh, man, Henderson, are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Haven't you heard? What time did you leave her? Were you with her when it happened? Was it after you left? Did the police call you?"
"What in bloody hell are you rambling on about? Heard about what? Police?"
There's silence for a moment. "Then you don't know."
"I've no idea what you're talking about, mate."
"She's dead."
My mind immediately jumps to Grayson's mum, though I really don't know what that has to do with me. God, I am such a crap friend. I should have been there for him. Did he send the police to find me to tell me? Surely they have better things to do with their time. "Your mum? I'm so sorry, mate."
"My mom? No. What are you talking about?"
Maybe I'm a skosh hungover too, because I am not following this conversation at all. "What are you talking about?"
"Tawny Shane. She's dead."
The name means nothing to me.
"Okay, who's that?"
"Tawny Shane," Grayson repeats, like his saying it again is going to make a difference. "You know, the lead singer for Fate's Daughter."
Still means nothing.
Grayson continues, growing more agitated by the minute. "The woman you were out with last night. She was found dead at about two this morning. They think it was drugs. Did you know she was using? Was she high last night? Was she a mess when you left her? How did you part?"
Now I'm really confused. "I've no idea what you're talking about. I don't know who Tawny Shane is. Or was."
Grayson's yelling now, "SHE WAS THE GIRL YOU WERE WITH LAST NIGHT!"
“All right, simmer down, mate. No need to get all worked up." But even as I say it, I'm trying to process what possibly could have happened. "I didn't meet any Tawny Shane last night."
"Then who were you out with that you told me you were working on it? Were you lying to me? I thought you were better than that. Oh God, Henderson, are you messed up in this? Do you need a lawyer?"
I rest my forehead in my hand. It's starting to throb, probably because of all the yelling. Maybe a bit because of the beer. "I didn't lie to you, and no, I don't need a lawyer. Don't be daft. Gimme a minute to figure it out."
"Tell me what happened, from the beginning."
I recount the night. "I got to Jack's Wife Freda for an eight o'clock reservation. I gave my name to the hostess. The minute I told her I was meeting someone, she was there, behind me. She said she was meeting me, and that they told her she'd love my accent."
"Did she ask you about shrimp on the barbie?"
I laugh, this joke going way back with Grayson and me. "No, but I thought she was going to. I owe you a shot."
"So Tawny was there?"
