Page 47 of Tight End

Because it’s time for the rest of them to pay.

Ben leans down and speaks into the microphone. “Thanks for joining us today. Brixton Scott will be reading his statement. He will not be taking any questions from the audience.”

With a quick nod, he backs away and sits between Sam and Tyler in the front row.

I flash a million-dollar smile at the sea of curious faces in front of me. “This feels really formal to me. I like to connect with my audience, you know?” I push back my chair and stand up, plucking the microphone from the stand. I walk around to the front of the table and sit on the edge. Ben clutches the sides of his chair, his face a million shades of purple right now.

It’s only gonna get worse, buddy. Hold on tight.

He won’t stop me. Stifling me would be bad for business.

So I keep going because they need the truth.

“I’m sure a lot of you had things to say about me on all your blogs and social media platforms last night.” I shake my headin mock disappointment. “But what you don’t know is what really happened at that bar. And I know that because not one account actually got the story right.”

I stand up and pace in front of the desk, holding onto the microphone.

“My record label made me come here today to apologize for my behavior.” I pause. “But let me tell you about thatbehavior. I defended a close friend, my best friend these days. He was innocent in this whole thing and about to be assaulted by a guy so I stepped in to protect him. The record execs think I was wrong, but the state of California is on my side. By law, I didn’t do anything wrong except help a friend. The guy ended up in the hospital and I went there to settle his medical bill. He should have thought twice about trying to attack a guy for smiling at his girlfriend.”

I grab the piece of paper from the table and wave it in the air. “But that’s not what this statement says. You deserve the truth and it doesn’t state the truth. At all. It makes me the bad guy. And guess what? The real bad guy is the one who started this in the first place. He’s not a victim. He just picked the wrong guy to mess with. That just makes him dumb.”

I crumple the paper into a ball and toss it into a trash can next to the table. It sails through the air and lands cleanly in the can. With a shit-eating grin on my face, I point to Sam.

“And my boyfriend, Sam Hartley, stands by me on everything I just said.” I lean forward with a knowing smile. “I know none of you would ever questionhismoral compass. So thanks for coming. I feel better knowing we’re all on the same page now.”

There is silence for a hair of a second before mayhem ensues.

I drop the mic on the table and walk out the door without a look back.

I barely make it into the hallway before Mike and Steve are by my side, escorting me to the elevator. That’s when I make the mistake of looking back at the horde of people following me. The paparazzi crowds around, shouting questions and snapping pictures.

My shoulders relax for the first time in a long damn time, and I don’t give a shit about the consequences of my impromptu speech.

It was a long ass climb to get to the top of the world. And when that world shattered, the fall was fucking bone crushing.

It’s nice to feel like I can finally pick myself up again.

And fuck all of the people who want to keep me down in the shit, including my father.

Just before I make it into the elevator, a strong hand grabs my arm and yanks me backward.

I slowly turn, my gut tightening when I see the fury in Lane’s dark eyes.

“You backstabbing motherfucker. I was always there for you and you just killed us. You killedeverything.”

Chapter 19

Sam

Rex leads me out of the conference room, my mind reeling from everything I just heard.

Why the fuck couldn’t Brixton just read the statement? Everything could have been over and done with, wrapped up with a nice fucking bow. I could have walked out of here with a clear conscience, without having to worry about team management taking a sledgehammer to my own career.

But no. He just had to derail the whole goddamn conference and destroy the livelihoods of pretty much the first two rows of spectators, including his own.

I was here to show support and he cut me off at the knees with one lash of his fucking tongue.

A demanding tongue that, not too long ago in the hallway, plundered my mouth with all of the unsaid needs and desires that set my insides aflame after our sexfest last night.

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