Page 61 of Songbird: Black Kite
But it had been a couple of years since the last time I’d been in trouble like that, and I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done—in Philly or elsewhere—that would warrant charges and lawyers and shit.
“I haven’t busted anyone’s face in a long time. Well,” I added with a laugh, “unless you count Lewis. But that guy needs a punch in the mouth every now and then.”
“Cut the shit, Hawk,” Tori snapped. Standing suddenly, she loomed over the table and snatched the papers out of my hand. “This is serious. There is a girl in Philadelphia who is saying you assaulted her. She’s kicking up enough of a fuss to make your life very difficult.”
“Hold the fuck on,” I said, not believing it for a second. “Back up. Someone thinks I—” I choked, needing to take a breath before I could even say the word. “Someone thinks Irapeda girl? What the fuck, Tori? You know that’s not true.”
“What we know,” Cornelius said, standing next to Tori and looking down his nose at me, “is that there is a young woman whosaysit is true. What we know is that if this gets out, it would mean the end ofBlack Kite.The end of Hawk Jameson.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” I insisted, and they both just stared back at me with pity. “I fuckin’ didn’t!”
I knew I was innocent. I hadn’t evenbeenwith a girl in Philly. I’d been fucked in the head ever since I’d woken up the morning after the Minneapolis show. I didn’t remember most of the night, just flashes, really, of wide hazel eyes, beautiful music, and the name Bird floating around in the back of my brain. But it was enough to mess me up. I’d had something special in the palm of my hand, and I’d let it get away.
Reaching down, I ran my fingers over the beads on the bracelet, the one that had been on my bed side table the next morning. I had no idea where it had come from, but I’d put it on that morning and I hadn’t taken it off since, connecting the bracelet to what I was sure had been the most amazing night I’d had in a long fuckin’ time.
After that, I’d been a bit of a bitch, spending all my time with Charlie in his bus, only going back to the band bus when the groupies had all left. I hadn’t wanted anyone or anything but the misery of my own thoughts.
So, no. There was no way I’d done anything in Philadelphia, and Victoria Castor fuckin’ knew it.
So why wasn’t she backing me up?
“I didn’t do this,” I insisted again, glaring at them both.
“Do you really think it matters if you did or not, Hawk?” he said, his voice sinister. “You deny these charges. Fine. But the press will have a fucking field day with this shit. The fans will turn on you like a pack of rabid dogs. You’ll lose credibility, sponsorships, everything. You’ll be completely radioactive. No one will touch you with a fucking ten-foot pole. If this goes public, it won’t matter if you’re innocent when the court of public opinion is readying the guillotine, ready to watch your head roll.”
He was right. I fucking hated it, but he was absolutely right. It wouldn’t matter one fucking bit what the truth was when the whole world was salivating to watch my fall from grace. They’d pick over my corpse like the vultures they were, before moving on to the next shiny thing that caught their attention.
My career—my band—they’d never recover.
This would ruin us all.
“People love nothing more than to watch their superstars crash and burn, Hawk,” he continued, his smile evil as he watched me come to terms with the realization that, once again, Cornelius Castor had me by the balls.
“What is it you want, Castor?” I asked, not even bothering to specify which one of them I meant. They were obviously in on it together.
“Castor Recordshas the power to make this all go away,” Cornelius said, his face and demeanor meant to come across as benevolent, but all he managed was insufferable. “I can, of course, ensure that this police report and the information it contains never sees the light of day. I have contacts that will make it so that this story disappears faster than it arrived. You’ll be completely in the clear.”
Of course he could offer me that, seeing as how he’d probably fabricated the entire fucking thing himself.
“And what, exactly, will that cost me?” I growled, knowing that everything with this family always came at a price.
“I don’t think thatcostis the right word, Hawk. After all, you’re the one gaining the most here, aren’t you? You get to keep your good name, keep your band and your record deal. Everything you have, your whole life, stays exactly the same...except for one thing.”
I waited, knowing he wasn’t going to drop the bomb until he was good and ready. Dramatic fucker.
“Mr. Castor,” the ditzy receptionist from earlier said, as she poked her head in the door. “They’re ready for you in the press room.”
“You organized a press conference?” I barked, standing from the couch and beginning to pace. “I thought you said this would all be over. This doesn’t feel like it’s over.”
“The press conference will be needed one way or the other, Hawk. It’s you who gets to decide what they will be told. You can go down there, stand in front of a room full of reporters, and proclaim your innocence to the world. Watch how they respond.”
“Or?”
“Or, you can go out there and give them something juicy. Something that will have every media outlet on the planet singing your praises.”
Acid churned in my gut, the feeling of being caught in his trap ramping my anxiety through the roof. I wanted nothing more than to tell Cornelius Castor to go fuck himself, but I knew that wasn’t a realistic possibility.
We had one album left on our contract withCastor Records. One more thing that we were contractually obligated to provide for him, and then we owed him nothing.
