Later That Same Day

Four faces scrunched up as another tequila shot went down their throats. How can people not handle a little shot of alcohol? When I was alive, tequila was like water. Strangely water burned my throat, but some say it's because the water was Holy. This story isn't about me though; it's about the aftermath of this apartment party gone wrong. I'm Kate Johnson, and my connection to the story is that my grandson is one of the people that is affected by what happens after the drinking is done.

Jeff is an up and coming writer, he just landed a sweet book deal with one of those big-time publishers who pay millions of dollars for celebrity memoirs, but they make their money from cheap romance books. His friend and roommate Reese is a very popular talking head on a no-name channel, and each of videos goes viral on Facebook. Liz is a political operative, who was just dumped by her 60-year-old husband for turning 30.

At the center of the coming storm is Curtis. Liz was working for him, right up until the night of their big party. He was a Senator, with his eyes on the White House. And penchant for causing soap opera level drama wherever he went.

One by one the roommates woke up the next day. Each found out that the big story on the news was that Curtis Stone had gone missing and was presumed dead.

"What the Hell happened? You walked him to the door and told him to leave Jeff." Reese asked rubbing her temples.

"Yeah, except we ended up in bed."

"What?" Reese and Liz asked in unison.

"He kept talking about how he was too good for you, Reese. So, I told him to blow me. And he did."

"That makes sense why he turned me down, but how could you? You knew I had my eye on him."

"I don't know what happened; it had to be that last tequila shot."

"Yeah, that's it and had nothing to do with hormones." Liz shot, as she took a drink of her coffee. "This isn't great; the cops will come here and start asking questions about what we know. If you tell them that, he can kiss re-election goodbye."

"If he's dead, I'm pretty sure re-election is out of the question anyway."

"True. If Curtis is alive or if he comes back from the dead, I'm going to lose my job and possibly be jailed. I blackmailed him. I found out he was embezzling money and I think he recorded it."

"Liz, what the hell? If you needed money, we would have given it to you."

"Don't be foolish; it's not about the money. I wanted him to endorse me so that I could run for the Senate myself."

"I--" Reese was interrupted by a knock on the door. All three went to answer it, for some reason.

"Hello, I'm Vanessa Stone. Curtis' wife. I know he is or at least was here last night. I used his phone signal to find him."

A friend betraying another. Blackmail. An unknown relative. Possibly murder. Seems like the plot of every soap opera I've ever watched. With the addition of what can only be described as the femme fatale. Vanessa's long red hair, accentuated her form-fitting green dress. She was like Jessica Rabbit without the husky, seductive voice.

"I'm Liz; I'm his campaign manager. I must have grabbed his phone by mistake."

"I know who you are and don't try that shit on me. Curtis got one look at that twink," Vanessa motioned over to Jeff. "And went to bed with him. This one," she pointed at Reese, "Thought that she was going to sleep with my husband and he turned her down. That must have been devastating."

Jeff had his phone in hand, like a good millennial. Reese squared her shoulders like she was readying for a fight. It was Liz though, who took matters into her own hands. "Whatever problems you and the Senator had, should not be taken out on us. We had no idea that he was even married. No one did."

"He said he didn't want anyone to know because of a kidnapping threat, but it's because he got his jollies with other men."

"Ladies, there's breaking news. Curtis Stone's body has been found in the Hudson River. He was shot to death."

"That's what I was trying to say earlier; I shot Curtis last night. When he was leaving, I was still hurt, so I grabbed my gun and followed him out, then I shot him."

"That's impossible, Reese." Jeff fidgeted, he looked at the women, embarrassed. "I didn't like living with a loaded gun in the house, I emptied the bullets and threw them in the trash."

"Fine. I'll come clean. I was sick of being my husband's dirty little secret. Sure, I got to screw the pool boy but so was Curtis, and that made it less fun for me. There's something gross about sleeping with the same man as your husband. Anyways, I used the tracking app and watched him leave. Then came the tart with a gun. It was an easy setup. I shot him and dumped his body in an alley near the river. Now I have you three stooges to take the fall for me. None of you want to get caught up in a scandal that will ruin lives and careers." Vanessa turned to leave, "That's how to get away with murder."

"I don't think so. Either you confess, or Reese will put this video, with her commentary, on Facebook and watch how it spreads. Our reputations will be fine. But yours won't survive, and you don't get his money."

Vanessa opened the door to find the cops waiting to arrest her. Jeff had called one of his paramours to let them know what was going on. This was the beginning of adventures for these roommates.