Something about his tone made me turn around, and I saw that the men calling for my attention didn’t look like regular Vegas tourists.
“Are you fuckin cops?” I asked, noticing the badges hanging from their necks.
“Yes, we are,” one of them said.
“Can we talk to you for a minute?”
“Talk to me about what? Look, I didn’t steal anything from that nigga. I just got up and left, so I don’t know what he told y’all.”
“Ma’am, we’re not talking about any theft. We wanted to speak with you about something we were told during a homicide investigation.”
“About a homicide? Who told you what?”
“Would you be willing to come down to the precinct and talk to us there?”
“Hell no,” I said flatly. This can't be about the homicide that I caused yesterday. God, please don't let it be.
“I’m not going anywhere except to get some sleep. If you have questions, ask them now while I’m giving you my time.”
They looked at each other in silence, then back at me.
“We were told that you were with Harrison Proctor at some point in time Yesterday.”
I swallowed hard.
“Yeah, I was with him. So what?”
“So, we need an approximate time frame of when you two were together and what happened while you were with him.”
I looked both of them in the eye and thought back to the days when lying saved my ass before. I wasn’t just a good liar back then; I was great at it. Playing crazy and sounding confident had gotten me out of a lot of shit in my teenage years. I just needed to channel that now, even though I was nervous as hell.
“Proctor and I went out to eat at about 1:00, and we stayed at the restaurant for a few hours, just talking and chopping it up before we left.”
“Where did you go to eat?”
“It was a soul-food spot. Run-down, but good as hell. You should try it. They have daily specials and everything.”
I crossed my arms, giving them an attitude to match my confidence.
“So, you’re saying you were with him from approximately what time?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it was a long time. Probably from like 1:00 until almost nightfall. What homicide is this about?” I asked, my stomach bubbling.
“Well, actually, four homicides took place yesterday.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about four murders, and I’m sure Proctor doesn’t either. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some rest. I’ve been getting whack dick all night, and I’d like to forget it ever happened with a nap and a stiff drink.”
I batted my eyelashes, and they didn’t even know how to respond. They just nodded, turned around, and walked away. I grabbed my phone and texted Proctor as soon as I could.
Me:I need to talk to you ASAP. The police just asked me about what happened. What am I supposed to say?
The message was delivered, but there was no reply, because, of course, he was probably still laid up, asleep next to my friend, while I was out here lying to the police about him possibly murdering four people. What kind of man was he? And what kind of shit had Ari and I gotten ourselves into by being involved with him?
I rushed up to Cyn’s penthouse, and I typed in the code they’d given me. Once I came through the door, I went straight to the guest room, and the moment I closed the door, it felt like all the air rushed out of my body.
I couldn’t breathe, and my thoughts spiraled. What would my future look like if this shit came back on me somehow? Would I go to jail like the man who was supposed to be my father, the one who I hadn’t seen in years because he’d ended up locked away because of something stupid, just like this? My father didn’t point out people to be murdered, but instead, he was the lookout man on a robbery gone wrong. In D.C., the look-out man is just as guilty as the person who pulled the trigger, and he got fifty years for that. Could that be my fate because I wanted to be under a man I didn’t even know?
The panic hit so hard I started hyperventilating, my chest tightening until my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the floor.
