“What the hell?” Amy exclaimed, walking into my bedroom and seeing my bed. I had tried to stop her from going on a cleaning spree of my apartment, but had failed. She lifted up the make up stained pillow and gave me a curious look. I just stared at it for a moment, having forgotten to wash the sheets and pillowcases.
“I… didn’t get a chance to wipe off my make up last night,” I said. It was a horrible lie, but it was half true. It was make up.
“How much make up were you wearing?” she asked, seeming too flustered to notice my horrible excuse.
I avoided answering the question, hoping it was rhetorical. After I had woken up that morning, I searched my entire apartment with one of my daggers in my hand. No surprise, I found no trace of anyone there or having been there. I immediately got in the shower after that, making sure to lock the bathroom door just in case. By the time I was done and just had my hair dry, Amy was pounding on the door. I had not called her or anyone. I couldn’t tell the police. What help would they be, especially since I wasn’t willing to give up the identity of my kidnapper?
Now I shook my head, intending to clear my thoughts of paranoia and head to the bathroom to put on some real eyeliner and blush. But just as I was about to leave my room, I looked at Amy up and down. “That’s the same outfit you were wearing yesterday,” I observed, recognizing the blouse and black pants she had worn to the hospital. Amy also appeared not to have redone her make up. I quickly put two and two together, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms. She purposely tried to avoid my gaze as she stripped the bed. When she didn’t respond, my eyes widened. “Walk of Shame Outfit!”
She immediately ran up to me and put a hand over my mouth, as if anyone would have actually heard me. Well, maybe someone might have, but I tried not to think about it. I was too amused. “Shut up!” she cried, finally pulling her hand away.
“Who was it?” I asked. “You came to visit me and didn’t even tell me you had a date?” I started to ramble when she still didn’t answer. “Or was it not even a date? Did you just pick up someone on the street? I mean you could have said something after bringing the whole crew to see me, even Bruce Wa-“ I cut myself off. “You did not.” She only stood there and stared at me, ready to cover my mouth again if I said anything too loudly. Still, I could not resist. “You slept with Bruce Wayne!”
“It’s not like I meant for it to happen!” she immediately exclaimed. “He just invited me up to the penthouse, and what, was I going to say no? I was worried about you, and we were drinking. I was drinking!” she shouted as if it was unbelievable, which it kind of was. “And…I don’t know!”
We stood there in a moment of silence, one in which I did not know whether to burst out laughing or shame my best friend. Oh, who was I kidding? “Was it good?”
She gave me a weird look after I asked, but soon took it back. I could see the pink color sneak into her cheeks. “It was amazing.”
I only nodded my head with a smile on my face and finally left the room. “And you thought I was the flirt of the two of us.”
“Shut up!”
* * *
After standing in the kitchen for a while, I thought of an idea. I grabbed the can that I had thrown in the trash the night before and took it out into the living room. In the corner, Amy was working on my computer. There was a lot of technology stashed into my apartment in the strangest places. For example, a machine we used to analyze fingerprints was locked in a cabinet on the other side of the room. I got it out and grabbed some of the dust. Brushing it all over the can, I found all possible prints on it. “Ames,” I called. She turned to me from the chair. “There’s about fifteen different fingerprints on this can. I need you to see if there are any that aren’t mine or yours.”
