Free The Scene by R. M. Gilmore Page B

would have never brought you there had I thought something terrible might come of it.” His voice was apologetic.
                  “Well something terrible did come of it. Come on Tatum let's get the fuck out of here. I have had about enough of beautiful liars for one day.” I stood up, angrily, and went to reach for Tatum.
                  “I want to know how it's done.” This from Tatum, still cool and collected.
                  “A magician never tells his secrets,” Cyrus said with a smile. He was treading on thin ice.
                  Tatum closed her eyes, took another deep breath in, letting it out again through her mouth. This time she turned her head far to each side; cracking her neck. The shit was about to hit the fan. She stood slowly and began stalking toward Cyrus. He immediately flinched and curled into a ball atop the chair he was in.  He knew what awaited him if she didn’t get her way.
                  “No. No. No. Wait, please? Let me explain.” Tatum stopped only inches from the huddled mass of blood and broken ego. Cyrus opened his squinted, scared eyes, and attempted to resume his original posture. Still looking like he was going to shit his pants, he continued. “McTavish is the magician. I am only a pawn. I know nothing really, Tatum, please.” He said this as though she should have known this already.
                  “Who's McTavish?” I asked with utmost curiosity.
                  “He is the owner of Embrace, Macabre Saturnine, Sween which is the agency I work for, and other enterprises throughout the Los Angeles area. Malcolm McTavish has his fingers deep into underground L.A. and is moving upward and outward. Now including managing a troupe of models and actors. Which he controls like puppets on strings. He is my owner, my fucking master. I hate him, but I need him.” It was his turn to come across supremely peeved.
                  “Sounds like you need new representation.” I know, not the time for witty remarks, but I can't help myself. It just comes out.
                  “Yeah, tell me about it.” He smiled a little, but winced in pain.
    Tatum really fucked him up, poor baby.
                  “Listen, I understand you’ve been bleeding profusely from your face for the last ten minutes, for that I apologize. However, I need to know what happened to me last night. And seeing as though you are of no help to me, both because you were as fucked up as we were last night and you seem to be some sort of lackey for the head cheese, I see no further use for you. Unless...” I asked as I looked toward Tatum, who was still standing only inches away from the blood soaked Persian. He no longer looked scared so much as desperate.
                  “Unless what? Anything I can do to make up for my unforgivable actions, I will. Anything, really. Just name it and it's yours.” His begging was a little pathetic and the way he was looking at me made me feeling a tad uncomfortable. 
                  “I would like to speak with this McTavish character. From what I gather, he’s the top dog, and as such, he’s the only one who can provide us with any sort of answers as to what the fuck happened last night.” Tatum looked at me quickly, and then moved her eyes back to the blood soaked man.
                  “A meeting with Malcolm?”  His eyebrows rose as he said this. His eyes moved to Tatum then looked down at the floor as he bit his lip.
                  “If this is something you cannot provide us then...” I motioned to my blonde bodyguard.
                  “Oh no, no. I can get you a meeting. No problem. Can you give me the day to discuss this with him? I could set it up for later this evening, if that is okay with you?” His eyes were a bright green against the red blood drying on his