Page 22 of Dirty Rock

The interviewer exhaled, almost romantically, and I didn’t miss the way her chest expanded, and her nostrils flared when she pulled in a steadying breath. “Tell us, Rhett. Tell America who hurt you.”

“Well. See. It all started with this big breasted woman called Candy. She—”

A door slammed to the left of us, the noise making everyone in the room flinch and look in that direction. The sound of sharp, snappy heels took over along with hushed voices and people looking from left to right.

Julia stepped out of the shadows and marched towards us. She didn’t even look at the woman interviewing us before she stopped in front of Hawk, focused on him, and pointed to the door behind her.

“All of you. Out there. Now.”

The guys and I glanced at one another, wondering what the fuck was going on.

Julia never caused a scene. Ever.

“Hawk, move.” Her jaw was set tight as she glared at him.

“What’s going on, Jules?” Hawk asked.

I studied her face. She was hard that night, her features stony, and it took me back to earlier when she walked out on me without any explanation.

Her eyes were red. Had she been… crying?

“I said get out, boys,” she pushed through gritted teeth.

Presley looked at me, the two of us trying to communicate silently before he began to stand.

What’s going on?

Who is she?

We can’t end the interview.

We’ve promised tomorrow’s breakfast audience an exclusive.

That was all the shit the interviewer and her team were shouting as the boys and I began to rise, following Julia’s instruction to get out of the room immediately. No looking back.

Dicky was arguing with someone.

The interview lady had risen from her seat and was protesting, her voice growing louder.

But never once did Julia look at any of them. When Hawk walked away, she just kept her eyes trained on his seat, focused. Like a machine.

“Julia—”

“Go, Rhett,” she growled.

“Okay,” I said softly, too worried to do anything else that might get me in even more fucking trouble. Shit. Was that respect I had for her?

Her eyes snapped to mine, and I saw the bloodshot red in them.Shehadbeen crying.

“Got it,” I whispered, not needing her to say another word. “I’ll sort the guys.”

Her jaw twitched, and she rubbed her lips together, offering me a nod of thanks.

I’d barely made it out of the door when I heard her speak again, her words drifting out behind me.

“Happy? I fucking warned you not to press Rhett on that issue. You crossed a line. I was very clear about what you could and could not discuss. Do not mess with me. Do not mess with my band. I donotmake empty threats when it comes to my men. Pat yourself on the back when you see them speaking to Good Morning with Gloria now instead of being on your show, you bunch of idiots. Consider this interview terminated.”

I swear, as I walked down that corridor with an amused grin on my face, I had to readjust my dick in my jeans.

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