23. Tyson

23

TYSON

We've barely landed in a tumble and roll when the small explosive detonates and scorches a path across the stage. I'm up no more than a second later, dragging Kiana with me. The rest of the set has spiraled into chaos. Audience members scream and race toward the exits. Cast from the show do the same, including Queenie Tate, who is in hysterics.

A few brave crew members attempt to put out the blaze with fire extinguishers.

My priority is getting Kiana to safety.

We make it to one of the emergency exits ahead of the others. I shove the door open and don't slow up 'til we're twenty feet off from the building, breathing in the late afternoon's fresh air.

"Princess, you alright?"

Kiana's dazed, her mouth hanging open as she pants to catch her breath. I caress her head and then give her shoulder a squeeze. She's shaken but thankfully in one piece.

"Stay here with the rest of your team."

I double back to scour the crowd and make sure the others have evacuated. The lot of the studio where the Queenie Tate Show is filmed is covered with panicked audience members, cast, and crew. Somebody's already dialed 911, evidenced by the sirens sounding off in the distance.

I scan the dozens of faces 'til I spot Amari. She notices me at the same second I do her and begins rushing over.

"My sister?—"

"She's over there. Both of you stay put."

The next hour is no less crazy.

Authorities arrive to get the scene under control. The fire that's broken out from the explosion is put out. Anyone who saw anything suspicious is interviewed by police. Paramedics are on deck to treat any injuries sustained during the situation.

Thankfully, no one is seriously injured. Only minor scrapes and bumps.

Kiana's doted over. First by the authorities who carefully interview her while insisting she allow a medic to take a look at her. Then by her team. They're shaken themselves, having narrowly escaped the explosion.

Once given the okay, cast and crew return to the part of the studio that isn't charred.

Kiana and her team are among them, returning to the dressing room to gather their things.

Tommy springs up, looking like he's new to the scene and wasn't present for the explosion.

"Kiana, I'm so happy you made it out okay!" he says. He rips off his sunglasses and opens his arms as if to wrap her up in an embrace.

I step in between them, a six-foot-four wall of hard-packed muscle. Tommy stumbles half a step back.

"What's he doing here? I thought I said?—"

"Where's Hal?" I interrupt.

"Hal, why the hell would I—ouch!"

Tommy stumbles to the side as I knock him out of the way with a swipe of my arm.

The man of the hour has finally arrived.

Hal's stepped into the doorway with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his familiar wide grin on his face. He's trailed after Tommy to check on the aftermath without knowing I've finally realized the game he's been playing.

He surveys the others in the room, then aims his broad grin at me. "Tyson the Bison, what's the scowl for?"

"I'll show you."

I launch my fist at his face. The punch connects, knuckles smashing into his nose and eliciting a howl from him. The strength behind my hit sends him tumbling against the wall.

But I'm not finished with him yet.

I wrench him toward me by the collar of his shirt and then ram my fist into his face a second time.

The others in the dressing room erupt into shocked screams. Kiana and Amari rush forward to stop me.

Two punches in, Hal's knocked on his ass, nose leaking like a faucet. I stand over him, tempted to go for a third helping of kicking his ass.

"Bison," he chokes out amid the blood dripping from his nose. "Bison… what…"

"I know it was you!" I bark. "You've been behind the threats against Kiana!"

"No way that's true!" Tommy says, his mouth agape. He rounds on a sprawled out Hal. "Tell me this ain't true, Hal!"

"It's all true," I say. "You were the person on the phone earlier with Shawn. You were trying to pay him for the explicit content on Kiana. You hired someone to crash into her car in NYC. You sent the threatening letters. And it was you who paid Rashad at the Ice Lounge."

The entire room goes still at the serious allegations I've made against Hal.

He blinks up at me, for once finding words difficult to put together.

Which is no surprise.

He knows he's got no defense.

It had taken me a while to put the pieces together and figure out it was Hal all along, but the call with Shawn was the final piece of the puzzle.

Only one person calls me Tyson the Bison.

Only one person has had enough access to Kiana to know her schedule while maintaining enough distance for plausible deniability.

The same person who also had a motive to ensure Kiana's destruction. Someone who had once been her manager but had been fired years ago before Tommy Tocha took over.

The same person who was going by an alias Henry Bass when his name's Hal Fischmann, and who had the means to contact her ex-boyfriend, Shawn Lassiter through the celebrity connections he often bragged about, like the night at Ice Lounge.

He knew enough about explosives from his time in the military to rig the one on the stage and enough about dangerous toxins to send the suspicious package to Kiana. It clicked together the moment Shawn and I drove to the Beacon Theater and suddenly Henry Bass backed out, waging another threat about her performance.

"Tell them," I growl after a moment of stunned silence. "Tell them what you've done."

Hal wipes more blood from his mouth, then aims what's a wincing smile up at us. "It was never supposed to be anything life threatening. I got you hired, Bison, because I thought you'd never get along with her and you'd quit and she'd be without security all over again. It was a distraction. But… but none of my schemes were supposed to seriously hurt her. More like a… a scare. More like getting her to breach contract and leave the label. Then she'd need new management."

Kiana makes a sound of disgust. "And what? Seek you out for representation?"

"I could do so much more for your career than Tommy!"

"You're disgusting! How could you try to sabotage me? You do realize I could've gotten seriously hurt?" Kiana asks, voice filled with outrage.

He pushes himself onto wobbly legs and staggers toward her. "It wasn't… it was never supposed to… Kiana…"

"Don't you ever get anywhere near her again!" I rumble, inserting myself in between them. Gripping him by the front of his shirt, I yank him closer like a rag doll. "This is what's going to happen. I'm going to take you to the police outside the studio building. You're going to confess everything and turn yourself in. If you don't, you're not going to like the alternative option. But here's a hint: it involves more of your blood and a hell of a lot more pain."

Hal goes from trying to sweet talk us to a face twisted in bitterness. "Fine, I'll tell them! I'll tell them all about how my client was an ungrateful little bitch who ditched me for millions! How about that? How about I tell them how she ruined my career!?"

My hand clenches shut around his throat to cut him off.

His tangent and his air.

He sputters, writhing uselessly in my hold. I'm half a second from crushing his windpipe when Kiana stops me.

"Don't," she says. "You'll only wind up in trouble, Tyson. Take him to the police and let them handle it. He's done."

Though she's right, it doesn't change the urge I have that remains.

The sweeping, overpowering urge to crush Hal like an insect for the shit he's pulled.

I push it down for the moment and haul Hal's ass outside where numerous squad cars are parked. Kiana and the others follow in my wake.

I shove Hal toward them and stand back as he claims responsibility for today's explosive.

The police quickly slap handcuffs on him and read him his Miranda Rights. He's walked toward their squad car, his head bowed as they slide him into the back row.

A beat of satisfaction pulses through me at the sight of him seated in the back of a police car.

Kiana throws her arms around me and stands on tiptoe just to kiss the underside of my jaw.

"You saved me… and all of us."

I hold her at my side and allow for the reality of that statement to sink in.

It's true. The plot that Hal had tried to carry out has been foiled and he's in handcuffs in the back of a police squad car.

"Get away from her!" Tommy growls out of nowhere. "Didn't I make it clear the two of you aren't to go around each other!? Did you think that was null and void 'cuz Hal proved to be nuts?"

Kiana lets go of me and turns to face Tommy.

Just when I consider she might actually apologize, she steps toward him and slaps him across the face.

I'm not the only one taken aback. Amari and the rest of her team look like they've seen a ghost materialize out of thin air.

But Kiana stands her ground. She glares at Tommy as he touches his hand to the red imprint she's left on his cheek.

"How dare you?" she says. "How dare you think you're going to tell me what to do after everything that's happened! I don't care if you and the label try to take me to court for breach of contract, I'll fight it! We're done here. The tour. The album. The brand . I want out."

"Kiana, doll, you can't?—"

"I just did," she interrupts. "You've had control of my life for how many years? You've worked me to the point of exhaustion. You've taken away any creative input from me. You entered me into a PR relationship without my knowledge. Now you think you're going to force me to go on another world tour and to deny the one man who really cares about me? You must be joking. I choose freedom over fame and fortune."

Tommy's nostrils flare. "We'll see if you'll be saying that in court."

"Take her to court and I leak what we've got on you," I say. "Trust me, Tommy. You don't want these kinds of problems. You or the label. You want the public to find out about how you've been embezzling money? Or how about how you entered Kiana—and many other stars under your management—into contracts like that PR relationship without their consent?"

"And I've got videos on you," Amari pipes up. "All the nasty times you've yelled and screamed at us. I think I'll leak them to social media."

"You come for Kiana, we come for you," I finish. "What's more important? Trying to keep your hold on her or protecting your reputation and the label?"

Tommy glares at us for a long moment, a vein pulsing in the side of his neck like he's about to explode any second. Then he thinks better of it. He takes another look at everybody and realizes he's not only outnumbered, he's outmatched.

Teeth gritted and fists balled, he concedes. "Fine," he says tightly. "We'll part ways here. But don't think you're coming out of this unscathed, Kiana. This entire fumbled tour and album? Tab's on you, not us."

"I'll gladly pay for this stupid album and tour just to be rid of you," Kiana scoffs with a wave. "Bye, Tommy!"

Her team breaks out in laughter as he's forced to turn away and do the walk of shame.

I scoop up her hand in my own. "Good job, princess. You won your freedom."

"You helped me."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

She smiles. "I do. Want to get out of here?"

"Best idea you've ever had. My place or yours?"