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“So what? If Harper knows, and I know, and we’re fine with that, what makes you think everyone else won’t be fine with it?”
“I’m rodeo queen, for one thing. Hardly a job for a stripper.” She clutched the stem of her goblet. “But that’s not the issue.”
“What is, then?”
Amber gulped down the last of her wine. Damn. She’d met her two drink max. She could use another.
She swallowed, her tummy fluttering. Angie was her friend. She would understand. Wouldn’t she?
She cleared her throat. “Blake Buchanan came by yesterday with some photos on the Internet.”
“Photos of you?”
She nodded. “They were definitely me. Thing is, I have no memory of posing
for them at all. I found my roommate Laura on the web site too, and I know she’d never pose either.”
“Nude photos?”
She had no idea. “Yeah. More than just nude photos. I’m doing things in them.”
Angie’s eyes widened. “You’re doing…it?”
“Not it, in the literal sense, but pretty much everything but.”
Angie paused. A long pause. Then, “But how? If you don’t remember… I don’t understand, Amber.”
“Neither did I at first, but I’m pretty sure I was drugged. I seriously have no memory of the whole thing.”
“What web site is it?”
“It’s an expensive paid web site for Rachel’s patrons, as far as I can tell.”
“Do you have the URL?”
“No. He didn’t give it to me, and I didn’t think to ask for it.” Why hadn’t she gotten the damn URL? “I wasn’t thinking at all. This came at me from left field.”
“I understand. Do you have any idea how this happened?”
“I have a hunch. There was a woman at Rachel’s—her name was Marta. She was kind of our mother hen. One night she invited Laura and me to her place. We got to drinking…and I blacked out. I’ve only been drunk twice in my life. The other was when I had the first one-night stand that I told you about. Anyway, I recognized the bed at her place from the photos.”
“You think you were drugged?”
“I can’t see any other explanation. I was obviously awake in the pictures. Something had to make me forget. I assumed I was drunk and I blacked out. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Something to induce amnesia—”
“Exactly.”
“Like the date rape drug, maybe?”
“Maybe. I have no idea. Do I look like I have a clue about drugs? I never did any of them. Hell, even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t afford them.”
Angie squeezed her forearm. “Honey, I know. I’m not accusing you of doing drugs.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
