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“Well, I know it’s stupid. A business owner shouldn’t partake in what they’re selling, but that’s why I wanted to sell it. Because I wanted it. I have a prescription pill problem. I’ll take almost anything you give me, but I like Xanax and Ambien the most.”
“What?”
He looked to me. “I’m a pill popper. That’s my secret.”
“You’re a what whatter?” I scratched at my ear.
“I’m addicted to pills, and I’m running out. I’ve been trying to figure out ways to make money so that was why I’ve been pushing the house to get into the drug business.”
Corrigan walked away from me, scratching his head, too. “What?”
Ditto. A pill popper had set me up?
Michael skirted back and forth between us. Every now and then, he’d try to look at Bryce, but he couldn’t so he went back to shifting between the two of us. He must’ve noticed my confusion because he paled, “Oh no. No, no, no. I’m telling you I was taking those pictures. I’m not your stalker. Well, I guess I kinda am, but not in the way you think.”
Corrigan’s hand dropped back to his side with a thud. He strode forward, his jaw clenched. He growled, “You better start making sense or I swear I’m taking that knife from Sheldon, and I’m not a hundred percent certain what I’m going to do with it. Start explaining everything.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Listen,” he implored us. “Yes, I took those photographs of Sheldon, but I was just like the paparazzi. That’s why they’re in the tabloids.”
He waited, glancing at us.
There was no reaction.
“Have you guys not seen the magazines? Well, I can’t blame you. All three of you guys are all over them, and Denton Steele. I wouldn’t want to read some of the stuff they’re saying about you guys either, if I were you.”
“Michael.” A warning growl from Corrigan.
“Yeah. Okay. Anyway, that’s it. Since Sheldon was arrested, she’s been the number one way for money. I figured a few pictures wouldn’t hurt, but I sold those and then realized how much money I could make. Sorry, Sheldon.” He lifted up one side of his mouth. “Nothing personal, and for what it’s worth, I never noticed anyone watching you. If I had, I would’ve told Corrigan. For sure.”
“But,” Bryce walked around to stand beside us. He folded his arms over his chest. “You have pics of her at places that no other paparazzi have. If you’re not her stalker, how do you explain knowing where she’s been when the others haven’t?”
“Oh.”
“Yes?” I asked.
“Uh.” He bit down on his lip. “Well.”
“Fucking tell us, Mike!” Corrigan burst out.
“Okay. Okay. Crap. Don’t kill me,” he said that last sentence to Corrigan. “I downloaded an app on your phone.”
Uh . . . my eyebrows bunched together. “You did what?”
He nodded at Corrigan. “There’s a GPS application on your phone. It sends me coordinates of where you are.”
“Are you kidding me?”
That came from me. Corrigan still hadn’t spoken. The longer he was quiet, the more I started thinking that I needed to take that knife away.
“No. Look. Pull your phone out.”
Corrigan didn’t move. He was still staring at his fraternity brother. No reaction. No emotion. I shared an alarmed look with Bryce and he nodded. He said quietly, “Where’s your phone, Cor? I’ll look.”
Corrigan never looked away from Michael, who had now tuned into the new danger he was in. Not from me. My urge to knife him left after that first time, but Corrigan had the knife. Michael started looking from Corrigan’s face, still an emotionless mask, to the knife. He wet his lips. “Um, Sheldon or Bryce. Can you guys—”
Corrigan burst forward and shoved him over. The chair fell backward. I cringed as Michael went down. His head was going to hit the floor, but it didn’t. I didn’t hear a thud. I moved over, just an inch so I could see what happened.
Corrigan was cradling the back of Michael’s head, but he had a knee pressing down on his chest. The knife was at his throat, and he growled, “You took my phone?”
