Homepage › Stories › Not for all the love in the world. › Chapter 4

Not for all the love in the world.

Cici.

“Dead. What the fuck happened?” Liam asked as he sat at the bar in Zayn’s condo. I shook my head, how could they even expect me to know?
“Don’t know, just came home. She was there, in her own blood. Dead.” My voice was dry.
“I can’t believe it…” Zayn said, his eyes were wide as if the reality was setting in.
I watched as Liam lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and then blew the smoke out, letting it surround him before speaking again.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t even know what to say. This is awful. Have you called her mom?”
Fuck. No.
“Maybe the police did…”
Honestly, I had met her mother once. She was a right bitch. I didn’t want to speak to her again.
Even if it was to tell her that her daughter had been murdered.

--
I saw Kat again.
She called me, letting me know they had some new evidence.
She wanted me to come for questioning, I let her know that with the sensitivity of my fame – it was better she came to me.
She agreed.
I was staying at a different condo now; I couldn’t go back to the one where they found her.
Instead, I’d gone deeper into the hills, where my closest neighbor was probably 2 miles away.
She knocked on the door and I crawled off the couch, I was dressed much more casual than normal. A pair of black sweats and plain white v-neck.
I hadn’t felt like playing the fame game much lately.
I opened the door and managed a smile for her, she looked lovely. Again, inappropriate, I know.
She wore a pair of tight black leggings that ended in a pair of black ankle boots. Her top was a plain white top, buttoned above her cleavage. Disappointing.
We sat on my couch, the sun was falling behind the horizon, covering the sky in a purple shimmer.
“This information, it isn’t exactly good.” Her face was tense, I knew nothing good would come of what she told me.
“I don’t see anything dealing with this being good…” I looked down, my fingers mindlessly twirling around each other.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Does the name Cici mean anything to you?” She asked, reaching into her bag for some papers.
“No.” I had never met anyone named Cici that I remembered at least.
She slid a picture over to me, I picked it up. It was a picture of a girl wearing an orange wig, her body clad in next to nothing; tight black leather dug into her flesh as she cuddled next to a man whose face was covered in a black mask. It was Shelby.
“That’s her.” I felt confused, where did she get this?
“Okay, we got this picture from a club downtown, it’s called Hunger does that ring any bells?”
I shake my head, my eyes searching for an answer in the picture.
“It’s a…” She paused, clearly feeling anxious about saying what it is.
“A sex club.” I finished her sentence, I could tell from the photo. She was at a sex club.
“Yes, this was on a website, do you know the man?” She asked, leaning over to look at the photo with me.
I shake my head again, I don’t recognize him. All I see is a thin frame, a black mask, and a blue wig on his head. He is a stranger.
“No, there is nothing familiar about him. He looks like a cartoon.” I say as I hand the photo back to her.
“We’re still investigating and I feel as though we’re only scratching the surface…Did she ever take you to a club like this?” She asked, her voice was kind. She seemed nice. I bet she was nice.
“No, not a sex club. We’d gone to underground places all over the world though. I think she knew though…” I thought of how to phrase my wording “she knew I was not like that, I do not…share.” I finally admitted.
She nodded her head and placed the photo back into her bag.
“What kind of underground clubs?” She asked, pulling out her note pad I had seen the night before, it was much fuller now. Filled with much more scribble than before.
“We went to some rave type clubs in Barcelona – some parties in caves in Mexico, stuff that you needed passwords for. The only one we went to in L.A was some art-deco want to be twenties era club. It was not a bad place, but it was in a bad part of town. It was called Twinkle, I think she told me.”
She was writing quickly, nodding her head. “Okay, twinkle. I think I can handle that.” She said as she closed the notebook and looked up at me. Her eyes were dark, almost black. Her eyebrows were dark and defined, perfectly sculpted. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips were chapped, yet still supple.
I licked my bottom lip, not realizing how obvious I was being.
Her cheeks flushed and she tucked a hair behind her ear. “Okay Mr. Styles, that should help. I’ll look into this and I’ll let you know whatever I find, please let me know if you think of anything else. Any other places she hung around…” She always called me by my last name.
“Call me Harry, please. Kat.” I stood and took her hand, helping her off of the couch. She had packed her items neatly into her bag and gave me a smile, I could tell she was feeling bashful.
“Of course. Harry, thank you.”
It didn’t take her long to leave, I was admittedly lonely when she was gone. I had been away from the world for almost two weeks.