Page 128 of The Goat in the Bedroom
Kendra approached me hesitantly, with Harry trailing behind her looking supportive. “Gryff, Flynn? I was wondering if you might do some fresh interviews, partly so I can get to know you a bit and what you'd like to get out of this experience. No drama, no forced revelations, just... real life?”
I looked at Flynn, who nodded.
“We'd be happy to,” I said. “The real story is way better than whatever Sloane was trying to manufacture anyway. Being a rookie is freaking wild.”
“I promise it'll be respectful,” Kendra said. “No ambush interviews, no invasive questions. Just authentic storytelling.”
“That's all we ever wanted,” I said.
Harry stepped forward. “And Gryff? I'm sorry I didn't come forward sooner. I should have?—“
“You protected those guys' identities while gathering evidence,” I interrupted. “You gave us the hammer for the final blow. We had plenty of paper evidence, but nothing beats reality TV. Thank you.”
He nodded, clearly relieved, then glanced at Kendra. “We should probably go plan the new shooting schedule.”
“Right. Yes. Planning.” Kendra was definitely blushing now.
As they walked off together, already deep in discussion about the show's new direction, Artie leaned into me.
“Those two are totally going to end up together,” she whispered.
“Obviously. Did you see the way he looked at her?”
“Did you see the way she looked at him when he called her brilliant?”
As everyone started dispersing, Artie slipped her hand into mine.
“You did it,” she said quietly.
“We did it,” I corrected. “I couldn't have done any of this without you, Parker, Dad, everyone.”
“Still. You stood up for those guys when you could have just protected yourself.”
“That's not who we are,” I said. “That's not who any of us are.”
She went up on her toes and kissed me, right there in the middle of the practice facility. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Okay, lovebirds,” Flynn called out. “We still have actual practice.”
Later that evening, Artie and I were back at our house, a bit emotionally exhausted but victorious. Parker had given us afolder with copies of everything she'd found on Sloane. Her real transcripts, the documents from the lawsuits, the evidence of her lies.
“What should we do with this?” Artie asked, holding the folder.
“Shred it? Burn it? Frame it and then burn it?” I suggested.
Before we could decide, Vincent trotted into the living room, spotted the folder, and snatched it right out of Artie's hands.
“Vinnie, no,” Artie laughed, but he was already chomping down on Sloane's USC expulsion letter.
Holly, not to be outdone, jumped onto the coffee table and grabbed a chunk of papers, including what looked like Sloane's headshot. She proceeded to chew one half thoroughly before spitting it out.
“Are they...” I started.
“They're eating Sloane's dirt,” Artie confirmed, watching in amazement as Vincent destroyed a court document with prejudice.
Then, in what could only be described as poetic justice, Holly squatted and pooped directly on what remained of Sloane's headshot.
