Tyler was a bad listener. Or rather, I think he just didn't wanna listen. I say one thing, and he hears another. A close friend, a somewhat cordial relationship, that's all I dared say about Irene, yet somehow he managed to twist that statement to its most depraved version possible.
Really, I just wanted to mitigate a scandal. Tyler already thinks I'm a smooth raunchy playboy with a fling of three. Of course, if he sees me within a five feet radius of another pretty girl, what the hell is he gonna think?
He keeps insisting that Irene was so much more than what I claim her to be. That it was not an odd three after all, but a perfectly even fling of four.
"If she ain't here to arrest you, she's here to be with you, dude!" He shouted, loud and confident enough that people were starting to look. "Big hotshot detective, you say? Yeah, I know her type! I know her scene! And this party, here? This ain't it, chief. Fuckin' quote me on that."