Chapter 38

The next morningwe’re up early to get ready for the show. The two bags she brought with us should’ve clued me in that Molly has more than one outfit. I enjoy her fixing her hair and putting on makeup in a sexy red bra and panties, not realizing she hasn’t decided what she’s actually wearing to the taping.

“Dress or pants and blouse?” She holds up a short red dress—the bottom has little folds that make it look like a tennis skirt. Next she holds up a pair of what look like purple velvet jeans and a silky black blouse with some sort of faint purple pattern on it. Then she gives me five seconds to consider each option.

“The dress is cute.” My gaze strays to the other outfit. “But you look really pretty in purple.”

She glances at each one. “I love this dress but honestly, I don’t know what the seating arrangement will be. I’d hate to accidentally flash everyone and have the cameras catch it for ‘bonus footage’ or something.” She lets out a disgusted snort.

This show has been crass on every level. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they did something like that. “Pants it is, then.”

* * *

At the studio,we’re separated into different rooms. Venom, Kelly, Woolly, Bear Trap, Molly, and I get to hang together in a large room with a long green plaid couch and a few chairs. Woolly’s mom was escorted into the audience. Apparently only significant others get the privilege of being up on stage.

The wait is surprisingly awkward. The guys and I had all gotten along so well at the house. But now, everyone’s silent.

The door opens. Jordan stands there and flashes a cheesy thumbs-up at us. “How’s everyone feeling!” he shouts.

“Great!” Woolly lifts his arms up and down like a bird about to take flight.

Venom groans.

“Let’s line up.” Jordan’s enthusiasm is not infectious. We all march out the door like we’re being led to an execution.

Side stage, Jordan stops us. A different producer lines the other guys up. “Each seating placement has a number on the back that’s not visible to the audience,” the new guy shouts. “I’ll hand you your number and you’ll sit in the corresponding seat. Everyone clear?”

We give him some version of yes.

“Ladies, you’ll met your men and sit next to them.”

Molly and Kelly share a look but don’t say anything.

I search backstage but don’t see any sign of Naptime, Kiki, or any of the other ring girls.

Jordan walks down the line, saying a few words to each fighter.

He stops in front of us last. “Now, Molly’s going to stay here and then we’ll call her out after your intro,” he says.

Molly’s scared eyes meet mine.

I glare at Jordan. “I think the fuck not.”

“It’ll be five minutes, tops.” He glances behind him. “Kelly will be with her.”

Molly blows out a breath and flashes a brave smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Atta girl.” Jordan pats her shoulder.

I hold Molly’s hand while we wait.

Bright lights spill from the stage to the hallway. Matt’s annoying voice echoes through a microphone. Music pumps through the speakers.

One by one, in the order we’d been sent home, each fighter walks onto the stage and takes a seat in their designated spot. The audience cheers and claps a respectable amount for each guy. But when Venom trots out, they explode into cheers and whistles. He grins and waves back.

“Let’s welcome Griffin ‘Stonewall’ Royal back!” Matt shouts.

I lean down and kiss Molly. “Five minutes.”

She nods quickly. “Go, go.”

I walk out and the roar is deafening. The stadium-like seats in front of the stage are full of people. To my right a group starts chanting something that I can’t quite make out with all the other noise. It seems positive, so I lift my hand and wave in that direction. The blinding lights don’t let me actually see individual people. More like a blur of blobs and colorful shapes.

A long white couch has the number two taped to the back of it right at the end. I almost keep walking, then remember that’s where I’m supposed to park my ass.

I hope that entrance looked smoother than it felt.

The couch looks plush but feels like the back is made of concrete. I settle in and flash a smile into the bright lights. As the adoration from the crowd continues, heat crawls over my cheeks. This didn’t happen to anyone else.

Venom reaches over and slaps my leg a few times. “They like you.”

I smile and nod like a bobblehead but can’t think of anything to say besides, “I guess so.”

Matt stares at me. With his permanently frozen face, it’s hard to tell what he expects me to do.

I turn my head to the right and spot Molly backstage. She flashes me two thumbs-up and claps her hands. To the left there seems to be another backstage area. I catch Naptime standing at the edge with an angry scowl etched into his face.

I don’t want to look like that sullen dickhead.Reluctantly, I stand and wave to the audience who’s still impossible to see beyond the glare.

Finally, Matt decides to move the show along and asks everyone to settle down.

Relieved the pressure’s off, I drop into my seat. We’ve got ten other guys out here, no reason to keep so much attention on me.

“And finally, the winner of season one of Supreme Underground Fighter…”

Does that mean there’s going to be a season two?

Naptime walks out from his side of the stage.

The response isn’t what you’d expect the winner of the whole damn show to receive. Boos rain down from every section of the audience. A few people chant what definitely sounds like, “Cheater! Cheater!”

Well, fuck.Maybe they actually aired his fake tap-out.

Venom grins and bumps my elbow. “They know what’s up.”

“Hell yeah.” I nod.

Naptime’s walking with a limp he didn’t have on the show. Good. And he’s holding one arm like it’s been stapled to his side. He drops onto the end of the other couch on my right. Almost close enough to reach out and gift him with a Stonewall Slap if he gives me a good reason.

Matt calls Kelly and Molly out. Molly hurries to my side and drops into the seat next to me. I curl my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. “You okay?” I ask against her ear.

She nods quickly.

Behind the couches where we’re all seated, a large screen slides down from above.

Matt goes through questions with each fighter. He starts with the ones who’d been dismissed first and works his way up. Scenes that Matt references play on the screen behind us.

The audience laughs or gasps at different antics. I can’t see the screen without craning my neck, but the audience seems into it. Women scream at one of Woolly’s clips. The whole audience gasps when the clip of Venom dropping Bull to his knees pops up.

I sit there with a barely controlled sneer, hating every second of reliving this.

“Stonewall!” Matt turns his attention to me.

A montage of clips plays on the screen behind me.

Molly and I both turn and stare up.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Clip after clip of me shirtless and sweaty. I’m either working out or training. Several close-up shots of the outline of my dick in gym shorts. To make it worse, each clip is shown in a strange slow-motion that looks more like a trailer for porno about fighters than clips from a reality show about fighters.

“We love you, Stonewall!” someone screams.

“I told you,” Molly whispers in my ear.

And here I thought it couldn’t get more embarrassing than people thinking I cheated on my girlfriend.

Then the clips of each of my fights start. At least those are professional. Who the fuck shot those other ones? Molly winces and squeezes my arm when the footage shows me taking a brutal shot to the face. She gasps at the one where I knocked out Bull. And a little squee pops out of her mouth when they show me winning against Venom.

The closing shot is the day I took the Ninja for a joy ride.

“Oh my God,” Molly whispers. “I can’t believe you did that. Was that staged?”

I lean down and say against her ear, “No. I felt like a dog who’d been taken for a walk on a leash that day and I just snapped.”

“Stonewall,” Matt says pulling my attention from Molly. “That was a very daring stunt you pulled. What were you thinking?”

I glance back at the screen. It’s frozen on a shot of me popping a wheelie. My muscles popping while I balance the heavy machine. “I was thinking if I’d been given a ride with a full gas tank, I would’ve ridden all the way home to see my girl.” I hug Molly to my side.

The crowd lets out a collective murmur of admiration.

Molly shifts and leans up, pressing a quick kiss against my cheek.

The audience responds with an even louder chorus of, “Awww…”

“How sweet,” Matt says in a dismissive tone. “Moving on to our winner!”

Naptime’s scenes flash on screen next. He’s got lots of shirtless close-ups and gym short junk shots too, so at least I’m not special in the embarrassing footage department.

The one where he passes out and I shave his head into a mohawk is my favorite. After that, I face forward again. From the sounds of it the rest of his clips involve him being drunk, training, hitting on the ring girls, or peeing in the pool.

An angry rumble works through the audience while the footage from our last fight plays.

“Well,” Matt says. “It looks like you had quite a time in the house.”

“Yeah,” Naptime grunts into his microphone.

“Did you know it was Stonewall who shaved your head?”

I glance over and meet Naptime’s blank stare. “Yeah, I knew.”

Matt pauses but Naptime doesn’t add anything.

“All right then.” Matt holds his arm out to the side. “It’s time for our lovely ring girls to make an appearance.”

They don’t get montages. Matt shows footage of the girls in the hot tub making out with different fighters. Every question is focused on who they did or didn’t hook up with.

My stomach clenches.

If that motherfucker says I slept with Kiki, I’m going to kill him. Wait. I lean forward, glancing at the other couch and one of the chairs where the ring girls arranged themselves. Kiki’s not there. How’d she get to skip out on this?

“And finally, let’s welcome America’s favorite ring girl!” Matt shouts.

That seems like a bit of a stretch.

Kiki struts onto the stage and aims a cruel smirk at me, then Molly. Molly’s body tightens but she casually drapes her arm over my leg, resting her hand on my knee. Maybe not that casual. It’s blatant possessiveness. Under any other circumstances, I’d fucking love Molly staking her claim on me. Here, it just saws me wide open. She has no reason to feel insecure. I rest my hand over hers, twining our fingers together.

Naptime stands and holds out his one functioning arm.

These two assholes deserve each other.

Kiki saunters to the center of the stage, her hand gracefully waving at the audience and a broad smile on her face like she’s a damn beauty queen.

For the first time today, the audience remains silent, nothing but awkward tension filling the air. They’re not as impressed with Kiki as Matt—or anyone else—expected.

“Cut!” echoes for the first time today, breaking the stillness.

Jordan rushes in front of the audience, his arms flailing in the air as he shouts, “Come on! Give us more energy!”

Kiki’s smile falters. She hurries backstage and Matt calls her out again. The walk’s quicker and she waves a lot less this time.

“Whore!” someone in the audience screams.

Not the kind of energy I think Jordan meant.

I duck my head and pray this is over soon.

Molly

What in the demon clown upside down world have I agreed to be part of?

Given all the shitty things the show did to manipulate everyone, Kiki might not be the one who sent me that final text. She could’ve had nothing to do with the “cheating episode.” What if she’s a victim of the show’s lies as much as Griff and I were?

I still can’t help the little daggers of hate sharpening inside me as she struts onto the stage as if she was the star of the entire show instead of a side piece. And I can’t help cringing when people from the audience scream, “Whore!” the second time she walks out.

No one deserves that. Especially if she had no idea what the show did.

Conflicting emotions war inside me but I keep my face smooth and calm. At least, I hope so.

Kiki embraces Naptime. They make an uncomfortable show of licking each other’s tongues, and then finally take their seats.

“Well, well, well.” Matt paces closer to Naptime and Kiki. “You two seem to be extremely cozy now.” He glances at the audience and, I think, attempts to wiggle his eyebrows. “But at a certain point, Kiki, everyone was sure you’d end up with Stonewall. What happened there?”

“Nothing,” Kiki says. “Nothing at all.”

Thank you!

In my heart, I know Griff didn’t sleep with her, but I hate that so many people who watched the show think he did. He’s not a cheater. In relationships or fights. I cast a stink-eye at Naptime. Unlike some people.

“But we caught it on tape.” Matt’s whispery gotcha voice crawls over my skin like centipedes.

Overblown muffled voices and guttural groans echo from the speakers.

“Shhh.”

“Hurry up.”

The images have already been burned into my brain. No need to see them again. I stare straight ahead, ignoring the video playing on the screen behind me.

“That ain’t Stonewall!” Naptime shouts.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Thank you. The more people who say it the better. When we leave here today, I don’t want there to be a single doubt that Griff’s innocent.

Matt gasps. “It’s not?”

“No!” Griff finally snaps. “It’s not.”

“Oh my.” Matt’s overstretched lips curve up. “What a grave error.”

“Issh bullsheee,” Naptime slurs.

“Finally, we agree on something,” Griff mutters.

“So, Molly,” Mat says in a low voice, as if we’re two buddies sharing secrets. “Word is, after that episode aired, you were so angry, you destroyed a car. Tell us about that.”

My eyes widen in horror. Do they somehow have a clip of that too? I slowly turn but the screen’s still frozen on the image of Naptime and Kiki in bed. I slide my startled eyes toward Griff.

What should I say?

He nods once, silently giving me his strength and encouragement.

Do I lie? Tell the truth?

Griff wanted to present a united front. Wanted everyone to know the lie didn’t break us.

Except it did. It broke me.

And I destroyed my car because of it.

That’s between Griff and me.

Don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing that they got to me.

The perfect answer falls into place.

I push my lips into a warm smile and beam it toward the audience. “I just love spending time in the garage with my man.” I reach down and take his hand, holding it up like I’m showing him off. “His hands are as talented at restoring cars as they are at rearranging faces in the ring.” I aim a sweet, innocent smile at Naptime, then the host.

Hah! They can interpret that any way they want.

Griff body jolts slightly, his stomach quivering as he suppresses a laugh. He leans in, kissing my cheek. “Love you, Muffin,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.

A collective murmur of admiration rolls through the crowd.

The host sputters and frowns, then glances at the note cards in his hands.

I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin, striving to project more confidence than I possess.

Turmoil and doubts churn inside me. I’m the lowest fraud. If only I really had believed in Griff. After being surrounded by these people for a few hours, it really sinks in how awful Griff’s isolation in the mansion must’ve been. I hate that I wasn’t there for him in the last few months of the show. Embarrassment and hurt ruled my actions.

The blade of anger I’ve been carrying twists inward, pointing at myself. How could I let some sneaky camera angles and slick editing fool me?

I don’t belong up here, sitting next to Griff. Acting like I was a faithful, loving girlfriend.

All the awful feelings from that night rush over me. The ache in my arms. My desperation to run away…The buzzing in my head crackles to a stop. Slowly the conversation around me filters back in. I force away my doubts and try to pay attention.

How much longer do we have to be here?

Matt’s speaking to Kiki. “But you have to admit, you were really into Stonewall.” He points to the screen. I turn and it’s the clip of their first interaction playing.

While Kiki’s playful and flirty, Griff seems disinterested but trying to be polite.

The video freezes when she touches his chest.

“I mean, just look at that chemistry.” Matt’s voice oozes with insincerity, his fake smile plastered to his face.

I flick my gaze to the screen again. I don’t know how anyone could interpret Griff’s stone-cold fuck off stare as anything other than hostile.

Griff sits forward, catching Matt’s attention. “Why don’t you show the rest of that clip? The unedited version if it still exists.”

A wave of interested “oohs” and “ahhs” ripple through the audience.

The video continues. Kiki’s voice harsh over the speakers. “Why are you letting some little girl back in your hick town lock you down so young, Griff? You have so much potential. Why shackle yourself to one girl when you can have your pick of any woman?”

The emphasis she puts on woman makes me want to shrink into the cushions. I have never felt more like a dumb kid in my life.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Griff’s firm tone resonates through the theater. “She’s not my prison. She’s my peace.”

The audience erupts in cheers and whistles.

Warmth flows through me. With all the other ugliness, I’d forgotten that moment earlier in the show.

Griff squeezes my hand. I lift my gaze and meet his loving eyes. He rests his forehead against mine. “That’s the truth, you know. I meant it.”

My throat’s too tight to say a word. Moisture burns the backs of my eyeballs. Griff presses his hand to my cheek, providing me with a shield until I wrangle my tears back. Finally, I nod. “I know.”

Mortification chills me to my toes when I look away from Griff and realize everyone is staring at us and several cameras are pointed our way. They probably caught every word.

Every second I’m on this stage, I’m slowly falling apart, like an old book with pages slipping from their binding. My brave front crumbles piece by piece. And the cameras are preserving every moment of my vulnerability.

“Did it bother you to see your man have a connection with another woman, Molly?” Matt asks.

“Knock it the fuck off,” Griff says. “There was no connection.”

“Do you agree, Kiki?” Matt asks.

I blow out a relieved breath that his attention’s off of me.

“No, we definitely had a connection,” she says.

Naptime scowls at her and it’s the only thing that probably stops me from screaming.

“I thought so,” Matt continues, as if he’s ever had a serious thought in that empty plastic head of his. “Then things seemed to…fizzle. What happened there?”

Giff sits forward, drawing Matt’s attention. “Nothing happened.”

A low, interested hum moves through the audience.

“Molly?” Matt’s gaze locks onto me. “Do you believe that? Deep in your heart of hearts, did you always have faith in your man?”

“I…” My mind races. Everyone back home will know I’m a liar when they watch this. I steal a glance at Venom. Griff confided in him about what happened. He’ll know I’m lying too. Griff squeezes my hand, giving me courage.

“Of course,” I manage, my voice strained. “We have a true connection. We’ve known each other for years. I knew he wouldn’t do that.”

Liar, liar, liar. That’s what should have happened.

“Well, that is a relief!” Matt tips his head back, like he’s praising God.

“Of course I didn’t screw Stonewall.” Kiki tosses her hair over her shoulder and thrusts her chest forward.

Naptime rests his hand on her leg. “Thass right,” he slurs.

“Why would anyone think that?” she asks.

“Well, we had it right there in black-and-white.” Matt points to the screen, still frozen on that creepy overhead shot of the couple in bed.

“Thass me!” Naptime jumps off the couch and pounds one fist against his chest.

He seems oddly proud of those fifteen seconds of awkward, dull rutting under the covers.

Kiki reaches up and grabs Naptime’s hand, pulling him back to the seat next to her.

“Whatever connection we shared fizzled out because,” Kiki slants an evil glance our way, “once I knew he was one of those guys, I lost interest.”

Griff snorts.

“One of those guys?” Matt asks, a creepy lilt in his question.

She leans forward, staring into the audience like she’s trying to become besties with every one of them. “Everyone knows guys who only date virgins are always bad in bed, right?”

Cold shock seizes my insides.

A wild, collective gasp comes from the audience.

Griff’s hand tightens on mine.

Fuck. This. Bitch.

What should I do? Defend Griff? Defend myself? Run screaming from the stage?

I don’t want to discuss my sex life in front of all these people.

Remy was right. Everything about this is lose-lose.

“This kind of trashy bullshit is why none of us wanted anything to do with your skanky ass,” Woolly shouts.

“Amen!” Bear Trap adds.

Griff lifts his fist and nods in their direction.

More of the fighters add noises of agreement. Maybe they’re as sick and tired of this being the Griff and Kiki show as I am.

“Who’s trashy?” Naptime yells. “Who y’all callin’ trashy?”

“You.” Venom doesn’t need to raise his voice, his deep rumble easily carries over the other chatter. “And Ring Bunny Barbie over there.”

Venom’s been fairly quiet since I came out on stage. I can’t even see his wife on the other side of his large frame. It’s probably for the best. She didn’t seem to like me much last night. After today, she probably hates me for sure.

“What’s wrong?” Kiki jumps off the couch and steps over Naptime’s outstretched feet. “Little girl can’t speak for herself?”

Is she talking to me?

Yup. Her hot glare burns right into me. I don’t even know this girl. Why does she seem to hate me so much?

After years of living in fear of my father’s unpredictable temper, Kiki’s aggression triggers an immediate response in my body. She’s not my father—she’s a hundred and ten pound-bully in six-inch heels. I spring off the couch, ready to defend myself.

As Kiki invades my personal space, a tug on my pants pulls my attention away.

She’s right in my face, taunting me. “Nothing to say? You just let everyone else speak for you?”

I open my mouth, a fuck off, bitch burning on my tongue.

But her hand lunges forward.

I twist just in time. The blow misses my face but her palm hits my shoulder. Her long, sharp nails tangle in my shirt.

An explosive surge of rage and instinct sends my fist through the air.

Pop!My knuckles hit her jaw. Kiki’s head whips sideways and she collapses on the floor like a bag of rotten apples.

It all happens so fast.

Oh my God. What did I just do?