Page 7 of Corrupted Tyrant

I nod, not trusting myself to speak around the lump in my throat. Courage scoots closer. His thigh brushing mine anchors me as the magnitude of this choice threatens to sweep me away.

Participate in the documentary. Bare my soul, my scars, for all the world to see. Or remain silent… and risk losing everything anyway.

“Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind,” Maury presses. “In the meantime,” his tone shifts to something upbeat, “I’ve got a plan to get your career back on track. A way to reconnect with your fans, remind them why they fell in love with you in the first place.”

Despite the heaviness in my chest, I feel a flicker of curiosity. “What kind of plan?”

“A tour,” Maury announces, leaning forward with a glint in his eye. “But not just any tour. We’re stripping it back, going acoustic. Intimate venues, a more raw, authentic sound. The Candy Wood Back-to-Basics Tour.”

“Acoustic?” I can’t keep a screech of surprise from my voice. “But I’m a rock star, Maury. My fans expect—”

“Your fans expect you to put on clothes when you leave the house,” he cuts in, his tone sharp. “They expect you not to flash the paparazzi. Right now, their expectations are pretty damn low.”

I flinch, my cheeks heating. He’s right, of course. I’ve been a hot mess lately.

As I try to process this sudden shift, I can’t help but ask, “Back-to-basics? My fans expect dance beats and glitter and…”

“And that’s exactly why this is going to work,” he cuts in, waving a hand. “It’s unexpected. Shocking, even. Imagine the headlines: Pop Princess Bares Her Soul. Candy Wood Unplugged.”

I’ve got to admit, it’s intriguing. A chance to reinvent myself, to show a different side of my artistry. But doubt niggles at the back of my mind.

“I don’t know, Maury. What if they hate it? What if I’m not… enough, without all the bells and whistles?”

“You are enough.” Courage’s voice is low but fierce, his eyes blazing as they meet mine. “I researched you when I got this gig. Your music is amazing.”

Maury nods emphatically. “You’ve always been enough, Candy. It’s time the world sees that. And this tour is going to prove it. We’ll start small and work our way up. Build buzz, get the critics on your side. By the time we hit the big markets, you’ll be the talk of the industry.”

It’s a lot to take in. The documentary, the tour, the chance to rewrite my own story. It’s overwhelming and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

But maybe I can do this. Maybe I’m finally ready to stop running from my past and start facing it head-on.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do it. The Candy Wood Back-to-Basics Tour.”

Maury claps his hands, a grin spreading across his face. “Fantastic. I’ll start making calls, lining up venues. This is going to be big, Candy. Huge. The comeback of the century.”

As he launches into logistics, his words wash over me in a blur. All I can focus on are two things: how hard this will be, and that it just might turn my life around.

For the first time in years, I feel a flicker of something that might just be hope. And damn if it isn’t the most dangerous, intoxicating feeling in the world.

Chapter Six

Courage

The sizzle of the fajitas echoes through the kitchen as I slide the skillet onto the trivet on the table. Candy follows close behind, two plates in one hand, a bowl of guacamole in the other. The scent of seared peppers and onions mingles with the tang of lime, making my mouth water.

“I can’t believe you cooked,” Candy says, setting the dishes down and eyeing the spread appreciatively. “I thought bodyguards just loomed in corners and looked intimidating.”

Flashing her a grin, I make sure to expose all four fangs. “What can I say? I’m a wolven of many talents.”

She laughs, the sound bright and unguarded. It’s a far cry from the tense, brittle woman I met a few weeks ago. The Candy I’ve come to know is hardworking, driven, and surprisingly down-to-earth.

These last few weeks, I’ve watched her pour her heart into this acoustic set, strumming her guitar until she got callouses on her callouses, scribbling lyrics at all hours of the night. My respect for her grows with every passing day, every hour she dedicates to her craft.

We settle into our seats, assembling our fajitas in comfortable silence. It’s easy, this rhythm we’ve fallen into. Working side by side, we’ve shared cereal and DoorDash meals, and talked late into the night about whatever floats through our minds.

As we eat, Candy regales me with stories from her Kids’ Network days, her expression animated as she recounts on-set pranks and backstage antics.

“Since the station’s initials are KEN, it makes sense their mascot is named Ken. But that’s where all good sense went out the window. It’s this odd, hairy, gaping-mouthed fish that has feet and walks. Both ludicrous and ugly. I can’t tell you how many dances I did with that character.”

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