Page 15 of Repairing the Wreckage

“I don’t give a fuck what contracts I signed. You can’t keep me here against my will,” I warn in calm, confident voice, even though I’m making shit up as I go. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re breaking your end of the bargain by telling those lies.”

Paul’s lips twist with annoyance but my words seem to be hitting their target.

“If I have to walk my ass back to Johnsonville, I will,” I add. “Feel free to sue me for my collection of vintage T-shirts.”

Paul steeples his hands in front of his face and leans forward. “You think that’s the worst we can do to you? I’ll keep you tied up in litigation for the next decade. Garnish your wages for the next twenty years.”

“I got two lawyers in my family ready to go, so do your worst.” Small lie. The two lawyers I know are wives of officers in the Lost Kings Motorcycle Club. But I’ve been invited to family dinner night at their clubhouse. That’s close enough, right?

Paul hesitates, as if he’s actually worried about my toothless threats. “Name your demands. I assume you want to be the last one standing?”

“I don’t want to win something that’s rigged,” I protest.

Paul rolls his eyes. “You must be the first.”

I glare at him.

“Fine, what do you want?” he asks. “We need you to stay until you’re sent home. You’re in the unique position of holding some leverage here.”

Leverage. Huh. Never had any of that in my life before.

“One—stop showing footage of my girlfriend. That’s nonnegotiable.”

Paul leans forward. “I’m entertaining your little tantrum because you’ve grown a pretty solid fan base, but don’t push it.”

“Trust me, when I’m having a tantrum, you’ll know.” I lean forward, so we’re almost nose-to-nose over his desk. “Stop showing Molly’s face. I don’t give a fuck about the release Diane tricked her into signing. Molly is not part of this.”

A slight smile—that should probably warn me something’s not right—tilts the corners of Paul’s mouth. “Fine.” He sits back against his chair. “We don’t need her anymore anyway.”

Wasn’t expecting him to agree so quickly. “Stop insinuating that I fucked Kiki. You know that’s not what happened.”

Paul shrugs and raises his hands toward the ceiling, proclaiming his false innocence. “Who can really say with all the footage we have to go through. Maybe we got mixed up.”

Fuck, I want to punch this guy.

“That’s it?” Paul lowers his hands to the desk and clasps them in front of him again. “You really aren’t going to ask to win the show and all that money?”

“No.” I frown. After all the interviews and psych tests I had to do, these guys didn’t learn a damn thing about me. “I’m the best fuckin’ fighter in this house. If I win, I want to win fairly.”

“Sweet summer child,” Mark mutters.

Paul smirks but doesn’t say anything.

I tap my fist against the desk. “But all right, since we’re talking about money—the show’s paying to fix the car my girlfriend destroyed when she saw the last episode.”

“Holly shit.” Jordan whistles, startling me. How’d I forget him standing against the wall like a creepy statue? “Why didn’t we think to get a camera crew up there when that aired? What a missed opportunity.”

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I should’ve kept my mouth shut about the car.

Paul slowly turns toward Jordan and Jordan’s eyes bug out from having his boss’s full attention laser-focused on him. “That’s a good question. Why didn’t someone set that up?”

Jordan shrinks back, as if he’s trying to become one with the wallpaper.

“I told you we should’ve taken our time with everything,” Matt says to Paul. “But nooo. You wanted to rush the premiere.”

“We had a slot to fill,” Paul says without looking at Matt. “And we needed to try something new. Keep things fresh.”

My head’s going to explode if I have to sit here much longer. Why the fuck did I have to tell them about the damn car? Did I really think anyone connected to this show had human emotions and might feel bad for all the problems they caused? What a joke.

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