AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It didn’t sound like this guy knew anything about me.
Furthermore, it sounded like he was investigating something.
“Is Glen in trouble?”
“Um… we don’t comment on internal matters.”
“You want my help, right?”
“Yes, if there was any sort of unprofessional conduct.”
“How about bribery?”
“On whose part?”
I frowned again. “What are you implying?”
There was a pause, followed by,
“What are YOU implying?”
This was turning into a bad comedy sketch.
“I was hired by Glen to interview Derek Kane and the rest of Bigger. He didn’t pay me anything upfront, but he gave me a Rolling Stone corporate card to book my airfare and the first couple nights’ hotel rooms. After that, I started dating Derek Kane, so I didn’t need to use the credit card anymore. But then we broke up. I, uh…”
I didn’t want to talk about my relationship with Ryan, so I decided to skip that part.
“Glen started harassing me about sending him the cover story, but I was too emotionally distraught to finish it. Glen became incredibly angry and verbally abusive, so Bigger’s bassist, Ryan Miller, paid him $12,000 dollars. Which was way,
way
more than my expenses, but Glen was insistent. Oh, and it was a personal check, made out directly to Glen.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Huh…”
“What?”
“Well, your story seems to match details we found in his records.”
“What do you mean, ‘found in his records’? Did something happen to him?”
“I really can’t comment on that.”
“I’ve been pretty forthcoming.”
“Um… yeah…”
“What?!” I asked, exasperated.
“Come on… did you really believe I would think you dated Derek Kane?”
Okay, I have never cared,
ever
, about any fame or notoriety I might have had from dating Derek – but this was beyond annoying. So I decided to play the card I’d promised myself never to play.
“Have you googled me yet? Kaitlyn Reynolds?”
“Yes, and I didn’t see anything about you and Derek Kane.”
“Do an image search on ‘Derek Kane girlfriend.’”
He sighed again.
“Really, I don’t think – ”
“DO IT.”
There was a pause, then the clicking of computer keys.
“Um… actually, I’m seeing a LOT of women…”
I gritted my teeth. “Are you on a cell phone or a landline?”
“Why?”
“Because I need to send you a picture.”
“I’m on a landline.”
“What’s your cell phone number?”
“Ms. Reynolds – ”
“WHAT’S YOUR CELL PHONE NUMBER.”
He gave me a cell with a 212 prefix.
“Hold on.”
I turned the phone around, snapped a picture of myself, and then texted it to his number.
“Did you get it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“See if you can find any pictures on Google of him with a woman who looks like that,” I said.
A brief pause. Then –
