Played to Death Read Online Free PDF

police department tow truck, which was leaving with what I assumed was the dead girl’s car.
    I said, “Having someone get murdered at your wedding has to be the worst.”
    “Yeah. Let’s not incorporate that into our wedding.”

 
    Scott
    It took hours for the police to finish questioning all the guests. Then Scott, Stacy and Brian had to wait while the crime scene technicians searched all of their stuff and took everyone’s fingerprints. In all the confusion, Scott had completely forgotten to text Brent. When they were finally paid by the grim-faced grooms and released to leave, Scott realized that it was nearly dark out - it was almost ten.
    Shit. He’d told Brent that he’d be home by eight. Oh well. He was sure that Brent had gone ahead and eaten. Scott was starving. When he finally got to the Merc and got out of Holmby Hills, he went to the drive-through ATM at his bank to deposit the check then stopped at In ‘N Out for a burger. He didn’t usually eat burgers, but after the day he’d had, he needed some comfort food.
    When he got back to West Hollywood, the windows of his condo were dark. Maybe Brent had gone out. Scott hauled the cello to the elevator and pressed the button for his floor.
    When he stepped out of the elevator and unlocked his front door, it took him a minute to register what he was hearing. It finally hit him as he reached to the wall and flipped on the lights.
    Brent and a guy Scott had never seen before were in the middle of the living room floor. Brent was on his hands and knees and the other guy was fucking Brent. Brent looked up and yelled, “Shit!” The other guy yelled, “Fuck! I’m coming!” He let out a primal scream as he did and then fell on top of Brent. The two of them collapsed to the floor.
    Brent scrambled to detach himself from the guy and got to his feet. “Scott, I swear, it’s not how it looks!”
    The other guy sprawled out on the floor on his back, condom still on his deflating dick, and started to laugh. “Dude, it’s exactly how it looks.”
    Scott went into the bathroom, Brent at his heels, bleating excuses. “You said you’d text me!”
    Scott didn’t dignify that with a reply. He gathered all of Brent’s toiletries, walked back into the living room and threw them into the hallway. Brent squealed, “Hey! What are you doing?”
    Scott picked up Brent’s clothes from the sofa and threw them at him. “Get out.”
    The other guy was getting dressed, still laughing. “I warned you, dumbass.”
    “What do you mean, get out? Scott, this was just a mistake! I’m sorry! It didn’t mean anything!” Brent was pulling his shirt over his head as he begged.
    Scott grabbed the front of it, hauling Brent nearly off his feet. “No one cheats on me.” He dragged Brent to the front door and shoved him through it, then went to the kitchen bar and found Brent’s wallet and keys. He took his own condo key and building access card then threw the rest into the hallway. “I’ll leave the rest of your shit with the concierge tomorrow.”
    “But - but -” Brent was crying now. “Where am I gonna go?”
    “Not my problem.” Scott gestured to the door for the stranger, who was now fully clothed, standing in the living room. “Please leave.”
    “Sure thing.” The guy picked up his own keys from the end table. “Sorry for the mess.”
    “You did me a favor.” Scott slammed the door after them. He heard arguing in the hallway then the elevator door opened. Scott looked through the peephole in his door and could see the stranger holding the door for Brent while he gathered the belongings that Scott had chucked out the door. Then Brent got on the elevator and they left.
    Scott leaned against the door for a minute. This had been the day from hell. He finished his hamburger and took his cello upstairs.

 
    Sunday, June 7
    Scott
    Scott woke up the next morning feeling pretty good. The feeling didn’t last long - the events of the preceding day crowded in on him