Sex, Lies and the Dirty Read Free

“Alien tried to kill herself.”
    Duane turns away from the blood, giving me a look like, That came from Alien?
    I say, “No, she tried to jump out the window. Where the fuck were you?”
    He busts out laughing and says, “Man, that would have been awesome if she did it.”
    I shake my head, get my phone and call Tristan to see if he knows anything. He picks up and I ask, “What the fuck, dude? There’s fucking blood all over the place.”
    He says, “Dude, Nik…it’s cool.”
    “No it’s not, man. What the fuck happened?” I ask. “It looks like someone fucking stabbed themselves.”
    “Oh, nah man, it’s fine. It’s just G-Girl,” he says. “She’s on her period.”
    “Then get the fuck up here and clean this shit up, man.”
    “Let a maid do it.”
    “Tristan,” I say. “You fucked this girl—you unplugged her, you O.J.’d her. Get the fuck up her and clean this shit.”
    Meanwhile, Duane is still taping the couch, taping me on the phone and laughing his ass off. Tristan comes up to the room, but I can already tell it’s to argue his case in person rather than clean up the mess. Duane tries to hand him a wet washcloth, bitching about being recorded and that we should “just let the maid do her job.” He starts working on the stain, begrudgingly, but the blood has been soaking into the fabric for so long that all Tristan is accomplishing is getting the couch wet. Nothing’scoming out, and Duane keeps recording the whole ordeal and laughing.
    Then I decide to give Tristan an even shittier job than cleaning period blood.
    I say, “Round up the girls and get them down to the pool.”
    Of course, they’re probably in any room but the ones they’re supposed to be in. Girls like Alien and Leper don’t go to bed alone, and they’re never where they’re supposed to be.

    Leper and Alien make it down to the pool at Rehab, already drunk on minibar booze and whatever pills they took. Apparently, G-Girl was too embarrassed about the period blood thing to come down, so it’s the Leper and Alien show: stripping, kissing, almost fucking in this cabana that we’re in. Cameras clicking away or recording. It doesn’t take a lot to get them going because they’re still drunk from last night, and security has to constantly watch these girls because the fucking guidos and muscle-heads are getting too aggressive. Hundreds of people are watching this play out, and if you listen closely you can hear random dudes say things like, “Those are the two chicks from last night I was telling you about.”
    At one point Leper comes up to me in the cabana that I’m sitting in. She plants herself down, pretty much wasted, but her body is nice and she’s smiling at me like I’m the only one that matters out of all these juiceheads and tourists. She says, “I know you’re the guy.”
    I take a drink of vodka/water. Nod.
    Leper says, “You’re fucking hot. But my friend likes you.”
    And me being an idiot, I say, “Kelli, the only reason I flew you guys out here was to meet you. You’re the one I want. Not Alien.” I ask her, “Can you get her the fuck away from me?”
    Then Leper smiles, happy and drunk and full of something like hope, putting a hand on my knee, saying, “Okay. I’ll keep her away.”
    Leper gets up, disappearing into the crowd, and here I’m thinking that this should take care of it. I won’t have to deal with Alien’s shit anymore, but all I’ve done is made it worse again.

    We reach a new low.
    Most of the news comes secondhand, but what I do know is that afterwe partied at Body English again, the girls completely lost their shit. Alien and Leper got into some kind of weird altercation, probably because of what I said at Rehab. My staff tells me that Leper almost got raped by some guidos at the hotel and security has to be called, and none of my people can keep up with them because they’re running around the Hard Rock, cracked out of their minds on a drug buffet. God knows where