“Yeah.” I muttered, trying not to gag, “she was my friend.”
“I see.” he chuckled. I could feel the rage bubbling up in my esophagus. “Obviously not a very good one. You didn’t even know her name.”
Fuck you Benjamin. My eyes narrowed in disgust. Taz just couldn’t resist, not that I really blamed him. It was rather apparent that I wasn’t a very good friend. Maybe if I had been, things would have been different for Michigan. And for him. Even so, the words dug into me like fangs, and I didn’t appreciate the accusation.
“I didn’t know much about you either.” I retaliated. “But it didn’t stop me from calling you my friend.”
To my surprise, there wasn’t a witty retort, or a sarcastic “touché” that came back at me. Instead, Taz responded without words, biting his lip and shaking his head while he gathered the crime scene photos and put them neatly back in the little blue folder. I was glad to finally have them out of my sight, though their images still scarred my mind. Michigan was no more. It was a notion that I still couldn’t quite understand, nor had any desire to.
“So how exactly did you know her?”
She used to be my drug dealer.
“I told you, she was my friend.” My eyelids had to blink repeatedly in order to keep my brain moving at the same pace as my mouth. I knew he needed more than that, but what exactly was I supposed to say? This was insane. It was all still way too surreal to me. Maybe I was in shock.
He eye-balled me distrustfully. “I suspect there’s more to it than that.”
Well aren’t you clever? Then again, I wasn’t exactly flying off the radar. There wasn’t much point in lying to him now, I was already in serious trouble, and in all honesty he probably knew exactly who Michigan was to me. Even still, there was a small part of me that enjoyed giving him the run-around, seeing as how he had literally screwed me in just about every possible way.