Page 88 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

“I think I’m suffering a stiffie,” Callum says, impressed. We all are. “That’s a pretty good right hook you have. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“I grew up in Brownsville, Brooklyn. You either joined a gang or made sure you knew how to fight like you’re in one.”

There’s something very sexy about a woman who can handle her own fight, although I’d probably kill any twat who tries to lay a hand on Eden.

“What you did, Oliver, was a whole lot of fucked up,” she stares wide at him.

She’s pretty hacked with him and it probably has to do with his comment about her not having any stalkers. He doesn’t know about the one who entered her house and threatened to kill her. Had he taken her worries seriously, maybe it would never have happened. We werejust kids who trusted the bastard as if he were our own parent, but all he cared about was how much we could fill his pockets.

“Four other people here witnessed what you admitted about the video,” Eden continues. “We’re not going to turn you in because it’s publicity we don’t need before we launch ourselves back into the public eye. So this is how it will be: you’re still fired as our agent, but you’re managing our PR under our direction, and you’re doing it for free. There’ll be no cut of any profit for you. But you will ensure ZMA creates a positive buzz around Velocity Vortex before and after the release of our first single.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in surprise as he shifts his gaze from her to us, a palpable shock etched across his face.

“You must be mad!” he exclaims, removing his hand from his broken nose.

Blood drips through trembling fingers, staining the ground beneath. “How the bloody hell would I be able to make the industry’s biggest gossip machine create such a vibe? And why the fuck would I do that?”

Callum and I step forward to remind him, but Eden holds her arms out to stop us.

“Because I was still 17 when you recorded me and released the video. Five days shy of my eighteenth birthday. That means ZMA released that video of a minor without their consent. That’s a crime in fifty states. You’ll make sure you follow what I’m demanding because you and the bosses at ZMA don’t want to end up in prison as pedophiles.”

I remember that video well; they cut all of Callum's images out because they knew he was still 17 when it was released. He’s two years younger than his brother and a year younger than us. I guess Oliver never disclosed how old the clip was to the media moguls.

“You’re a—”

“Keep it PG, mate,” Jagger throws him a warning. “Otherwise, you’ll be shitting out your veneers in the morning. That’s our woman you’re about to insult.”

“You’re all bloody sodomites!”

“We’re artists, saints, and sinners,” Haze says casually, and Eden huffs a laugh.

“Pretty good analogy,” I say. “We should use it for lyrics.”

“I like it too,” Eden agrees. “Saints and Sinners. Our first album name.”

“You’re all bloody mad,” Oliver mutters, unimpressed as he straightens himself up.

“That we are. A bunch of arse eaters,” Callum grins amusingly.

“Do we have a deal?” Jagger interjects and moves close to Eden’s side to support her recent demands to our minging ex-band manager.

We watch as Oliver gathers himself together and fixes his tattered jacket and white shirt collar, which now sports drops of blood from a face that’s swollen and bloodied from the five lethal punches he got.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he mutters, pulling on his shirt cuffs to straighten the sleeves as if he’s unaffected by what just transpired here.

“Not good enough,” Jagger picks up on Oliver’s weak promise. “Failure means prison for you.”

“Don’t bend over when you drop your soap,” I remind him with a warning.

“A bit of soap never hurt nobody,” Callum sings and winks amusingly at him.

Oliver nods his understanding and distances himself from our group. He turns slightly and cracks his head side to side, focusing his piercing gaze on Eden.

“You had a bright future, darling, but you fucked it up with them. My greatest mistake was not launching your solo career right after rescuing you from the Vixens," he confesses.

“My only regret was ever thinking these men were responsible for my career downfall. I have no remorse when it comes to you. I won’t waste a moment of regret on scum like you,” Eden retaliates assertively, and I step to her side and slide my arm on her back in support.

Instead of responding, Oliver delves into his trouser pocket, retrieving the key fob to his car. In the distance, we observe the illumination of the lights on the Porsche he has parked.

---