The last thing he remembered about being at the party was a blur. He remembered being surrounded by faces from the silver screen, magazine covers, glamorous ads and the red carpet. Most of them didn't know who he was, but they seemed to like what they saw, offering him all sorts of favors in exchange for something in return.
Vicky told him to play along, make friends, get along, you'll be fine. So he did. The flirting was exhausting, but the drinking and the drugs helped him ignore it. He opened his mouth for most of what people threw around that night. That was the end of his memory.
He woke up in an unfamiliar room. It took him a moment to gain clarity, he realized it was already the next day and he was in someone's bedroom. He jolted on the bed, his head felt like it had been crushed by a truck. He looked around, there were at least five naked people lying around, him being one of them.
"Fuck!" he stood up, wobbled to find something to wear. He counted seven people in that room, all in the nude. Three men, four women. He was on the bed with two women, Amber Stewart was one of them.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he found his pants, put them on, his phone was still in his pocket.
He rubbed his face, scratched his head and dialed Vicky.