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“And yet you claim she orchestrated a huge con on your friend,” I reminded him.
“Former friend,” he corrected. “And yes. I think she saw an opening to live in a nice house, to have a boyfriend who would buy her nice things.”
“That’s not a con,” I argued. “That’s just taking advantage of someone. She was the one who reported him. Why would she do that if she’d been in the middle of some big scam?”
Nate swirled the last inch of whiskey in his glass and then tossed it back, signaling the bartender for another one. “I made some calls. Nothing official like a private investigator could do, but Meg’s story was that she’d grown up in Grass Valley and moved to LA with a boyfriend a couple years ago.” He shook his head. “No one up there has ever heard of her.”
“Did you tell Cory that?”
“I tried. He didn’t want to hear it.”
I took another sip of my drink, mindful that I needed to stay sharp. “Wouldn’t it have been obvious what she was doing?” Just then my cell phone rang. It was Frank. I held it up and said, “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.”
I stepped outside, the bright sunlight making my eyes water. “Have you gotten to the high school yet?” he asked. “I want you to stop by the main office and see if you can get the office manager to confirm the date Cory started working there. I’m not getting anywhere with district HR.”
I checked my watch. It was nearing 2:15. I was going to have to wrap this up quickly if I wanted to get to Northside by the dismissal bell. “I’m on my way now,” I lied.
“I need this information, Kat, or the whole story gets pushed back and we risk someone else running it first.”
“I understand.”
I entered the bar and took my seat, checking the time again.
“Somewhere you need to be?” Nate asked.
“Work,” I told him. “I should be getting back.”
“But you’ve barely eaten anything,” he said. Then he pushed my glass toward me and said, “Finish your drink and I’ll lay it all out for you. Tell you exactly how I think Meg conned Cory.”
I checked the time again, my nerves tightening, trying to think what my male colleagues might do. The ones who never seemed to worry about being a little late, who wouldn’t think twice about being somewhere they weren’t supposed to be, if it meant getting an important lead on a story. I could be across town by three. Chances were, that teacher would still be sitting in his classroom, grading papers by the time I got there, and office managers usually worked until five.
I grabbed the glass and tossed the rest of it back, cringing as it went down.
And that’s the last thing I remember before I blacked out.
***
I woke with a pounding headache in a room I didn’t recognize. Early morning light had only begun to filter in through the drawn shades. In the bed next to me, Nate was asleep.
I sat up, the room spinning precariously, no clue how I got there or what had happened. A T-shirt I didn’t recognize covered my top, but I was naked from the waist down. “Jesus,” I said, and a swirl of nausea passed through me.
I managed to make it to the toilet in time. Sour brown liquid landed in the water, the stench of alcohol clouding the air around me. My hands shook as I flushed the toilet and splashed cold water on my face. My makeup was smeared, and I stared at myself in the mirror, searching my memory for something—anything—that would explain how I’d gone from a few sips of whiskey at two in the afternoon to Nate’s apartment the next morning. I remembered Frank’s call. Leaving the bar to take it so Nate wouldn’t overhear our conversation. And then…nothing.
When I entered the bedroom again, Nate was sitting up. He smiled. “Hey. You feeling okay?”
“What did you do to me?” I asked, my voice raw and scratchy in my throat.
He held up his hands. “Hey now,” he said. “We had a couple drinks. You told me your boss was going to be livid you missed some important meeting, but that you didn’t care.” His voice grew softer. “I was just trying to be a good friend. It seems like you’ve got some issues with your mother you need to resolve. I just let you talk.”
“Did we…?” I trailed off, looking around at the evidence that we had. My clothes in a pile on the floor. An open condom wrapper on the nightstand.
“I asked, and you said yes,” Nate said. “I always ask.”
“I don’t even remember leaving the bar,” I said. “How can I remember saying yes to you?” I shook my head and instantly regretted it, feeling like a sack of hammers was tumbling around in there.
“I guess you’ll have to take my word for it,” Nate said.
“I need to get home.”
