lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.
Now Playing
Fall Out Of Love ft. Carlie Hanson by Salem
0:24 —⊙— 2:56
◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷
VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%
NOW
"Mr. Bolton, what can you tell us about your relationship with the deceased?"
It was the detective who'd asked the question but Troy's eyes were locked on the private investigator on the other side of him. She refused to look him in the eye, more interested in either flipping through a notepad she'd grabbed out of her bag or looking out the window overlooking the yard. He resisted the urge to turn around and see what was so amusing to her out there.
"I, uh... m—we—Sharpay and I we dated... we were dating," Troy cleared his throat, running a hand through his chestnut brown hair to push the too-longs strands out of his eyes, forcing himself to look at the detective now. "We knew of each other from school, we both grew up here in Albuquerque, but never actually talked before because she was a theater kid and I was on all sorts of sports teams, you know?"
"And how did you two come to... be... together?" The sound of Gabriella's voice tugged Troy's attention back over towards her. It was purely out of curiosity, Troy figured. It was their job to get every detail of what went on in Sharpay's life, especially considering he had been her boyfriend before died. Before she was killed.
"Taylor introduced us." He said, to put it simply. "Chad's my best friend, and Taylor was Sharpay's friend, I guess. We first started talking at their wedding a few years ago, but Sharpay had a boyfriend at the time—it was an innocent friendship, okay? Nothing happened between us for a long time because the timing was never right."
"Why do you say it like that?"
This intrigued the detective, Troy could see it in the way his posture straightened, and he was furiously writing down more information as Troy went on. "Sharpay used to bully Taylor when we were in school, so it was always really strange to see them be friends once we graduated, you know? And for Sharpay to be Taylor's Maid of Honor instead of Kelsi never felt right, either."
"I meant about the relationship you had with Sharpay." The detective cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes at Troy a little.
"Oh. Sorry." Troy could feel his cheeks heating up and swallowed thickly. "Um, the thing with Sharpay is that she almost always seemed to have a new boyfriend, having this, like... endless supply of guys at her disposal... I never knew if it was for publicity or whatever, but, any time I saw her, either in person or on TV at an award show, she was with a new person every time."
"Did that bother you?" Gabriella chimed in.
"What? No... I don't... No. It didn't." Troy was startled by the question, fumbling a little as he answered her. "It was whatever, you know? I didn't really have time for a long distance relationship, anyway, so it was fine the way things were. Just texting and whatever."
"Do you know if Sharpay ever... cheated on one of her boyfriends with you?" Gabriella asked, her eyes sparkling and her tone full of innocence. Like she was just striking up any old conversation rather than interrogating him about his relationship with a dead girl. But there was something about the way she said the word 'boyfriends' that made Troy feel itchy.
"I... don't think so?" Troy scratched absently at a spot on his wrist. "Like I said, nothing happened between us for a long time."
"When, in your opinion, would you say your relationship was taken to the next level?" Gabriella seemed to be full of inquiries, and it was making Troy a little uncomfortable, but at the same time, this was part of her job as a private investigator.
"You mean, when did we sleep together?" Troy questioned.
"I think what Miss Montez means is, in your opinion, when would you say your relationship with Ms. Evans stopped being friendly." The detective cut in, sounding more than annoyed, and honestly Troy didn't blame him. "Such as, when did your text messages and phone calls become more... flirty, I suppose. Stuff you wouldn't normally say to a friend like Mr. Danforth or Ms. McKessie."
"Um..." Troy looked between the detective and Gabriella, unsure where to look, unsure how to answer. "We made things official six months ago."
"That wasn't answering the question," The detective pointed out—something all three of them knew, unfortunately.
"Right." Troy glanced down at the floor, then back up to meeting the gaze of the detective. "She started showing me a little more... attention... probably eight months ago. Calling me randomly during the day. Texting me differently, like her emojis and whatever, she was trying to be cute, I guess. We made plans to meet up soon after that."
"Eight months ago, you say?" Gabriella mused, "Wouldn't that be around the time she was seen on the red carpet with that Warriors basketball player, Zeke Baylor?"
"They were broken up," Troy quickly sniped, though maybe that wasn't entirely true, based on the way Gabriella was staring him down now. "How did you know about her relationship with Zeke?"
"Her brother," was all Gabriella quipped back with, and ended that part of the conversation there by plowing forward. "Is it possible that Ms. Evans lied to you about ending things with Zeke Baylor?"
"I really don't see how that is relevant." Troy said. "What does that have to do with Sharpay's death?"
"Just trying to paint a better picture, is all." Gabriella insisted.
"Well considering Zeke Baylor wasn't even here this weekend, I don't think it's all that important in finding out what happened to Sharpay." Troy replied hastily. The detective snorted softly in agreement. "Are we done here?"
"One more thing—we received a... tip that maybe not everything was paradise between you two, had you and Sharpay gotten into any arguments this weekend? Were things not as perfect as you both wanted everyone to believe?" The detective swooped in to taking control of this conversation before Gabriella had the chance to interrogate him more, most likely about Zeke Baylor or another one of Sharpay's old boyfriends.
"No." The answer came far too quickly, even for Troy's liking, like it had been something he'd been anticipating being asked and that one little word was waiting on the tip of his tongue.
"Thank you, Mr. Bolton, for your time." The detective said, "Please ask your friend Ms. Nielsen to come in."
Taylor couldn't believe what she was hearing, but at the same time . . . was she really surprised? Not at all.
She'd balked when Troy tried to make it seem like her friendship with Sharpay was some kind of sham all because of how the blonde had treated her, like, a decade ago. But what really knocked her off her feet was how blatantly Troy edged around the truth about his relationship with Sharpay, from the very beginning, all the way up to how things were this weekend—she was so tempted to storm in there to set the record straight, but couldn't risk blowing up the fact that she was eavesdropping on his conversation with the detective and Gabriella Montez.
And speaking of Gabriella . . . it was really quite interesting hearing her take on things, though it certainly was confusing, especially when she tried to insinuate something about Sharpay's former relationship with Zeke Baylor to Troy, as if trying to slander Troy with a motive to want to hurt—to want to kill—Sharpay by getting him to admit she had (possibly) cheated on Zeke with Troy. Which, that in itself, did not make sense. Why would Troy be mad about that when he was the one who she cheated, then later forged a legitimate relationship, with? If anything Zeke would be given proper motive but, as Troy said, Zeke wasn't even there.
THEN
seven days ago.
Shar❤️
Missed Call (5)
Shar❤️: i think u and i should talk
Shar❤️: come visit this weekend?
Troy Bolton: seen 5:22am
five days ago.
He hadn't expected her to show up to one of his games, she had never expressed interest in watching basketball for the entire time they'd been together. So, it most definitely came as a shock to Troy when he'd been in the locker rooms and overheard somebody talking about spotting Sharpay Evans in the stands—the two of them rarely acknowledged their relationship out in public, it had been a mutual decision to keep things as private as possible for the sake of both of their careers, considering both of them spent a lot of time being scrutinized by paparazzi and were often targeted by the tabloids. And for Sharpay to just randomly show up threw him a little off kilter, but he did not let it effect how the game went.
.
.
.
Sacramento Kings - Boston Celtics
91 - 72
.
.
.
When Troy walked off that court, as egotistical as it may have sounded, the first thing he expected was to be swarmed by a bunch of people to congratulate him on winning the game—but as he rubbed a towel over his face to rid his skin of the sheer layer of accumulated sweat, his blue eyes immediately picked out the halo of blonde hair trapped in the center of more than a dozen adoring fans. Even from a distance he knew they were fawning over Sharpay, not even questioning her being there, too distracted by how pretty she looks, preoccupied with wanting to get her autograph or asking to take a selfie with her—which, of course, she could never say no to. He couldn't help the smile that tugged onto his lips, barely feeling the clapping of his teammates' hands on his back as they said goodbye, his feet moving on their own accord as he slowly migrated to where Sharpay was on the bleachers instead of heading to the locker rooms.
Up close, he truly did think Sharpay looked gorgeous, and not at all out of place like he'd originally expected—her hair was pulled back into a neat little bun on the top of her head with a few blonde wisps framing her face, her face bare except for a thin little smudging of eyeliner and a couple swipes of mascara, but her outfit was what really got his attention: she had chosen a pair of skintight jeans with artful rips at the knee, which she tucked into a pair of ankle boots, and a . . . a jersey. But not just any jersey. His. Well, sort of. She had taken a flimsy light gray tank top with Kings printed in purple script letters onto the front across her chest, and, when she shifted her body a little to take yet another picture with a fan, he saw that she had painted his number on the back in black glitter. Bolton was scribbled in her perfect, swirly cursive handwriting above the 14 in tiny letters—which, ironically, was his same jersey number when he was in high school.
"Shar," Troy called out above the chatter. The smile on her face when she turned to face him was fucking earth-shattering. She was so beautiful.
"Troy, hey!" She beamed, politely excusing herself from out the small cluster of people surrounding her and inching her way towards him. His hand found hers before he could think about what other people might think, finding it hard to care when she was right fucking there, wearing his jersey number emblazoned on her back. She laced their fingers together, and he was glad that they were on the same page, even just for the moment, and he squeezed her hand softly.
"I'm really glad you're here," he told her, and meant it.
Gently pulling her down the bleachers, his hand never leaving hers, he guided her out of the arena altogether before somebody could spot them—as much as he might have loved the idea of finally getting their relationship out in the open for everyone to see, he just. . . couldn't. That much was obvious when he spotted a familiar figure lurking in the shadows close to where the exit was by the locker rooms, but rather than acknowledge them with even the slightest nod of his head, he chose to keep walking with Sharpay, pretending he never even noticed them standing there.
Pretending he didn't see the dejected look on their face.
NOW
He stared at his phone, thumbing through his thread with Sharpay for the umpteenth time, a forlorn look on his face.
Shar: what the fuck is wrong with u
It makes him sick to his stomach, reading the very last thing she ever texted him. It didn't help that it was preceded by a series of question marks, with Sharpay asking where he was and what was taking so long—she had wanted to meet up with him before they all got together for dinner, and he'd completely flaked out on her, because he knew that he was a piece of shit and most definitely did not deserve to be with somebody like Sharpay Evans. Probably never did. She found him, of course. Had made sure they were alone before laying into him, essentially biting his head off with the verbal lashing he so rightfully deserved for the way he'd been acting, for the way he had treated her, since before he even arrived at Sharpay's for the weekend.
And now more than ever, he wished he could take back all of those horrible things he'd said to her in the heat of the moment.
"Hey," a familiar voice startled him out of his thoughts, bringing Troy back to reality. He blinked a few times, looking up, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, to see that it was Kelsi who'd snuck up on him.
"Oh, hey, Kelsi." He gave a tight-lipped smile. "Just the person I was, uh, looking for."
"Oh yeah?" She cocked her head to the side curiously, raising an eyebrow. She looked from side to side, a little surprised since he certainly didn't seem to look like he'd been on his way to go get her—not when she'd found him standing in the middle of the hallway, all by himself, glued to his phone.
"Mhm, the cops want to speak with you." Troy avoided looking her in the eye, feeling a little embarrassed that she had caught him lost in his own head. It had slipped his mind but looking at her head-on brought reminder bubbling to the surface that the detective had asked for her, but God... who knows how long ago that was. He'd gotten so wrapped up in his own thoughts, torn between reminiscing about his relationship with Sharpay and completely hating himself for the way things last were between them that he forgot all about finding Kelsi to send her in next to speak with them. Had they already sought her out, or found another person to interview in the meantime? Did they think he was incompetent, or just grieving the loss of his girlfriend?
"Oh, well, thanks, uh... I guess, for letting me know?" Kelsi cleared her throat; a quick glimpse at the device in his hand showed Kelsi that he had pulled up his thread with Sharpay. She felt a pang of sympathy, probably the size of a baby sea monkey, but brushed it off as quickly as it had come, and headed in the direction of the grand parlor where the detective and Gabriella Montez were probably (hopefully) still waiting for her.
And as she hurried back down the hall, Troy could've sworn he heard her mutter, "idiot," under her breath.
author's note: i really try not to let my chapters be so short, that's the ocd in me ever since finding out how long an average chapter is supposed to be, but i'm really trying to space things out before really diving into the investigation for sharpay's death. it's going to be each individual interview before all the bouncing around happens.