Sexy Evil Genius Page #3

- Hi.

- Hi.

Where'd you get all those hickeys?

I confront her, but Nikki

claims that she can't remember

how she got the hickey necklace.

Because of this drinking game

they played on the bus ride home.

I'm sorry that I made you worry.

I love you, Zachary Newman.

I chose to believe it

because just being with Nikki was...

Is the most fun I've ever had.

I got a story just like that one.

So when the Rebops got together,

we couldn't get arrested.

There's maybe five,

six decent joints in this town

that'll even book

a traditional jazz band, right?

Nikki disappears for a few days.

Disappears.

Nikki?

Now, I know about her bad habits

and I'm worried, you know, sick

that she might be back on the spike.

No. She returns. "Hey, baby."

And by the way, the Rebops

have a Saturday night gig

at the Grill, the hottest spot in town,

the hottest.

We go, we do the damn thing. Kill it.

The place is packed

and they are feeling us strong.

It's the most intense experience.

But the whole night,

this manager dude who books the bands

is just staring at Nikki, drooling.

After the show was over, this guy comes up

and he's got his hands all over her.

I get it.

She cut out on me to hang out

with this band manager guy

and that's how we get the gig

in the first place.

Let me guess. You forgave her.

I did.

Thanks to her, the Rebop word got out.

Yes, I did. You know,

we were happening, man.

Three gigs a week, real money,

living the dream.

You know, {just put that

problem to the back of my mind,

wrote it off as like

a sacrifice that she made for us.

Sucker me.

She cuts out.

This...

God, I know that feeling.

Yeah.

Okay, I have a story that beats you both.

When we first met,

Nikki and I were both recovering.

- I'm Nikki.

- Miranda.

Nikki didn't want me to know

that she was this privileged girl

who got stuck on smack the first time

she escaped her suburban life,

so she created an entire back story.

She was a fashion model in Amsterdam,

studied yoga in India.

She was living on some

f***ing billionaire's yacht

playing the congas in a salsa band,

except she had to quit that

because of the stalker.

- That one I heard.

- Bullshit.

Look, she was still being stalked

when we were dating.

Really? Did you ever actually see the guy?

I... No. Just pictures, but...

It was all a lie.

And these lies start piling up

and I start asking questions.

She invites me to this dinner party, right,

to finally meet all the friends

that she talks about

that I haven't met.

There's a guy from her ashram in India.

There's the Dutch couple that knew her in

Amsterdam when she was on the runway,

and this funky dude

that played in her salsa band,

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