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Why wouldn’t Tegan answer the phone earlier?
“What did I do, Ruby?”
She taps her red-painted fingernails on the table. “I knew you were off your face at the studio, but thought you'd remember. You told everybody you and Tegan were over.”
Ruby’s words hit my pounding head. “What? No, I fucking didn't! When?”
“You did. Does Tegan know?”
“Know what? There's nothingtoknow! When did I say that?”
“Talk Show Guy asked if you had a girl and you told him no.”
I slump back in my seat and push the offending toast away. “I did? I didn’t. Why would I say that? He asked me about Tegan?”
I cycle through the foggy memories of the TV studio. We played ‘My Kinda Disaster’ — very suited to the evening — and sat on the sofa. Loads of chicks screamed at me. The host asked stupid questions.
Oh, shit.Thatquestion.
“No! He meant a hook-up like Will and Nate’s, right? They were obviously gonna hook up with the girls. That’s what he was asking me.” Ruby raises a plucked brow. “Right?”
“If you say so.”
“Fuck!” I stand. “What exactly did I say?”
“He asked if there was a girl in your life and —”
I interrupt. “No, he said ‘girl for tonight’, didn’t he?” Ruby shakes her head. “Fuck! I meant no girl for melast night! I’m waiting for Tegan to come back from Wales — for somebody special! Her!”
“I'm sure she'd believe you if it wasn't for this.” Ruby pushes her phone across the table and I snatch it. On the screen is a grainy picture of me leaving a club with a girl, alone. Her face is obscured by long blonde hair.
“I don't fucking know who that is!” I slam the phone on the table. “She definitely wasn't in my bed this morning! I swear!”
“Why didn’t you mention Tegan to the host and put things straight?”
“I was out of it, Ruby. I had no idea what the fuck he was saying.”
“Yeah, that’s obvious. You'd better speak to Tegan.”
I stand and grab my phone. “I don't fucking believe this! Everything's twisted!”
I storm out of the restaurant and back to my room — a small voice telling me my life is safer there until this is sorted. Bryn's waiting for me to slip up; avoiding his fists is number two on my priority list. Contacting Tegan is number one.
Back in my room, I leave yet another voicemail for Tegan then lie on my bed. The bed that was most definitely free of groupies last night. Shit, I had enough offers but I managed. I held onto the image of Tegan. Of us. At least I think I did.Fuckmy memory.
Who was the girl in the picture?
I call Will and ask him. “You just described half of the chicks there last night, man. I have no clue,” he replies.
“Did you see me? With a chick I mean?”
“No. You disappeared for a bit. Maybe you were with her then?”
“Did I? Shit!”
Will's no help; I hang up and sink back onto the soft bed again. I run through the events I can remember after the TV show. A group who work on the programme took us to a bar. Then another. Memories flash in, of wandering the Red Light District and swapping bars for a coffee shop. Then nothing.
My chest constricts with fear that I did do something and fucked things up with Tegan. In the past, I've slept with chicks and forgotten, finding them in my bed the next morning, but that was before her. I remember spending time throwing up in a bathroom; but no, I'm positive I didn't hook up. I wouldn’t. The most that happened is I spent the time peeling girls off me who attempted to attach themselves.
