I wake early, before the sun. Ben is asleep beside me on his stomach, his hair disheveled and falling across his eyes. My head hurts.
I sit up slowly. I’m in his bed, naked, because after having sex on the couch he pulled me into his bedroom and we had sex in here too.
An image of me smothering him with a pillow flashes across my vision. That’s pretty standard for me waking up with men. It would be so easy to kill a sleeping man.
“I still vote strangulation for this one,” Savvy whispers. I shake the voice away.
I find my dress on the floor, and my underwear in the living room. It’s ripped, so I toss it in the trash on my way out.
I’m outside before I remember that my car is still at the bar. I debate calling the one Uber driver, but he’s probably asleep, and it’s only about a mile down the road. I start down the sidewalk, hoping a strong breeze doesn’t blow up my dress and expose my ass to the world.
It’s hot, even just before sunrise, and sweat trickles down my back as I walk.
I wasn’t nearly drunk enough last night to blame my choices on the alcohol, which was honestly shit planning on my part. Should have gotten wasted. Then at least I’d have an excuse.
But, no excuses. We didn’t even use a condom, which is really just the icing on my bad-decision cake. I’ve had an IUD for years, so there are no smug babies in my immediate future, but who knows where Ben has been sticking that thing. He fucks like he gets around.
A little podcast souvenir. I should get a T-shirt: I was the subject of a true crime podcast and all I got was this T-shirt and gonorrhea.
My car is still, thankfully, in the parking lot, and I drive home to a dark, quiet house.
I walk upstairs and close my door softly, change my clothes, and climb into bed. Early morning sun is filtering in through the blinds, and there’s a text from Ben on my phone. I ignore it and close my eyes.
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My headache is gone when I wake the second time, and I’m starving now. I trudge downstairs. No sign of Mom, which is a relief. I don’t need to add that to my hangover. I smear some cream cheese on a bagel and then hurry back upstairs.
There are more texts from Ben on my phone.
Hey. Did you get home okay? You could have woken me up.
Seriously, just text me so I know you’re not dead.
I perch on the edge of my bed, take a bite of my bagel, and text him back.
I’m not dead. I got home fine.
My phone rings immediately. Way to play it cool, Ben. I swipe to answer it. “Hey.”
“It’s rude to leave a guy in bed, you know.” “Is it?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Do you usually sleep with the murder suspect of your podcast?” “The suspect in season one was a man.”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s a no.” He sounds amused.
“Do you usually forget the condom?” “No. Uh, I’m sorry about that, I don’t—”
“It’s fine, that’s my fault too. I have birth control covered, I was just sort of hoping you hadn’t been raw-doggin’ it all over Los Angeles.”
He lets out a short, startled laugh. “I have not been raw-doggin’ it all over Los Angeles. Or anywhere. Usually.”
Just with me, then. I don’t know whether I feel special or insulted.
“I feel like your podcaster ethics have really gone to shit here, Ben.” I mean it as a criticism, but he laughs.
“Whatever. No one ever accused me of making good decisions.”
“Questionable ethics, but you can’t argue with the results!” The words I read about Ben a couple of weeks ago float through my mind, and I have to work not to laugh. No one can say I wasn’t warned.
In truth, no one ever accused me of making good decisions either.
“You want to get breakfast?” he asks. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“I need to write. Talk to me now.”
He pauses, and then clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Okay. So, I’m putting together a bonus episode for tomorrow with the stuff I recorded with Matt yesterday. I want to send it to you first and let you veto it.”
Veto it? I had sex with the man two times and I’m now apparently in charge of the podcast. I’m either proud of myself or horrified. Hard to say.
“Why do I get to do that?”
“Because it includes an interview that makes me uncomfortable. I’ll cut it if you ask me to.”
“Who’s the interview with?” “Maya Harper.”
My stomach clenches the way it always does when someone mentions Maya. Savvy’s little sister.
“Send me the interview.”
Listen for the Lie Podcast with Ben Owens
MAYA’S INTERVIEW UNEDITED SEGMENT
Hello, friends. I’m back, earlier than expected, because something happened last night. I met Lucy at a local bar—which you all know already, because you’ve seen the pictures on Twitter. Yes, we were having a drink, and no, it’s not nearly as scandalous as you all seem to think it is.
As we were leaving the bar, Matt pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car. Here’s what happened.
[scuffling noises] “Hello, Matt.”
“You son of a bitch, I should wring your neck.”
[scuffling, grunting]
That sound you hear? That’s Matt punching me in the face.
“I am going to sue you for every penny you’re worth.”
“I’ll give you my lawyer’s number. Can you take your hands off me, please?”
[banging noise]
Matt slams me into the car here.
“Matt!”
That’s Lucy. She’s standing nearby as this happens.
“Beverly is a [inaudible], and that one is a fucking liar!”
“That one” refers to Lucy here, because he points at her.
That’s the general consensus, right? Lucy is lying. Lucy is hiding something.
Well, we’ve already established that Matt is lying too—he wasn’t at home the night Savannah died, even though he told police that he was.
And Kyle Porter suggested on this podcast that something might have been going on between Savannah and Matt. Savannah’s younger sister, Maya Harper, gave me a piece of her mind about that.
Maya: Savvy never slept with Matt. It’s bullshit that Kyle said that, and it’s bullshit that you put it on your podcast.
Ben: Okay. Can you tell me more about that?
Maya: About how you’re an asshole?
Ben: About why you think it’s bullshit that Savvy slept with Matt.
Maya: She hated Matt. The first time she told me about Lucy, she said all this nice stuff about her and then goes, “And she’s married to this total dipshit who kept looking at my boobs when I talked.”
Ben: And her opinion of Matt didn’t change over the next couple years?
Maya: Nope. But even if it had, she never would have slept with her friend’s husband. She wasn’t like that. Savvy loved Lucy, and she never would have hurt her.
Ben: What makes you think that Savvy never warmed up to Matt? She talked to you about
him?
Maya: She would occasionally bring him up in passing, saying things like, “I couldn’t avoid Matt, so I ended up having dinner with him too.” Little remarks like that. And, well, this is just my take, but I think Savvy suspected there was something going on between Lucy and Matt.
Ben: Something going on?
Maya: Like… something abusive, maybe? I’m not sure. I could be wrong. But shortly before she passed away, we were watching a show together. There was a storyline about an abusive husband, and at one point, I noticed her rolling her eyes. I asked, “What’s up?” She commented that the show was making the guy out to be a complete monster, and that wasn’t how those guys usually are.
I got worried and asked, “How do you know what those guys are like?” She replied, “Oh, not me, not me. But I know someone. And the guy… a lot of people like him.”
I didn’t ask if she meant Lucy, but it had to be. Savvy wasn’t close with anyone else at the time. And she said “know,” not “knew.” “I know someone.” I’d always wondered why Savvy had such a strong dislike for Matt when everyone else seemed to adore him. Suddenly, it all made sense
