Chapter 25
LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO
GRYFF
Friday. Deadline day.
I'd been awake since four in the morning, running through everything that was about to happen. In a few hours, Sloane Mitchell would walk into the Bandits practice facility thinking she held all the cards. She had no idea we'd stacked the entire deck against her.
My phone buzzed with another text from one of the guys she'd been blackmailing.
JAMIE
You're sure this is going to work?
Trust me. After today, she'll never bother any of us again.
I can't thank you enough man. I haven't slept in weeks.
Just hang tight. I'll text you when it's done.
Three more similar texts came in while I was getting dressed. Seven players across teams nationwide, all rookies, all queer, all chosen specifically by Sloane for maximum drama potential. She thought she was so clever, so untouchable.
She was about to learn what happened when you came for a Kingman.
Flynn was already at the facility when I arrived, tossing a ball back and forth with the Tyson.
“You ready for this?” he asked, jogging over.
“Ready to end it,” I said. “Coach knows?”
“Coach, the owners, PR, legal. Everyone's on board. They're as pissed as we are. Apparently, Mr. Bandelman's nephew is gay, and when he heard what Sloane was doing...” Flynn shook his head. “Let's just say she picked the wrong team to mess with.”
Whoa. It was pretty damn big to have the owner behind us too. “Any word from Parker?”
“She's with Artie and your dad. They'll be here at nine-thirty, right when Sloane usually shows up to film Friday practice segments.”
Parker was our secret weapon and a certified genius. Her job in the FlixNChill IT department had not only helped her get the goods on Sloane, but it had all been done legally. Cybersecurity for the win. What she'd found in two days of digging made Sloane's blackmail attempts look like child's play.
“The executives?” I asked.
“Driving over from FNC HQ in an hour. Some head honcho took the red-eye from New York when they saw Parker's initial report.”
Everything was falling into place.
Right as scheduled, Sloane's van pulled into the parking lot.
I watched from the window as she got out, all perky confidence in her designer workout wear, directing her crew like she owned the place.
She had no idea there were three extra cars in the visitor section.
No idea her entire world was about to implode.
“Gryff, Flynn,” she called out as she entered, that fake bright smile plastered on her face. “Ready for some great content today? I have some really exciting segments planned.”
I bet she did. Today was the day she expected everyone to either come out or refuse and watch her release.
.. what? But I still didn't know what she thought she was going to threaten me with.
She'd been doing some fishing of her own, but what was she going to release about me?
Photos of me and Artie holding hands? Videos of us kissing?
We'd been doing that publicly for weeks now.
But the other guys, they had more to lose. Or thought they did.
“Can't wait,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.
She started setting up with her crew, chattering about storylines and dramatic reveals.
“You know, Gryff, I've been trying so hard to find something more interesting about you and Artie.
You two claim to be together, but you acted like such, uh, weirdos about it, it makes one wonder if it's all for show.”
“Does it?” I asked mildly.
“I mean, a bisexual football player and a bisexual rugby player just happen to fall in love right when you both need publicity? It's almost too convenient.” She was casting for a fish, and I wasn't biting. “Unless there's something else you'd like to share? Today is a big day for... revelations.”
Before I could respond, the door opened.
“Actually,” Bridger's voice carried across the facility, “today is definitely a day for revelations.”
Sloane spun around. Her face went pale when she saw my dad, Artie, and Parker walking in. Parker was carrying a laptop and a thick folder.
“Mr. Kingman,” Sloane stammered. “So nice to meet you. I didn't know you were coming to practice.”
“Wouldn't miss it,” Dad said pleasantly. “Especially not today.”
“Who's this?” Sloane asked, eyeing Parker nervously.
“Parker Chen, FlixNChill IT department. Cybersecurity,” Parker said, flashing her badge. “We need to talk.”
“I don't understand—“
The door opened again. This time, a whole group of people in expensive suits walked in.
I recognized the woman in front. Parker told us she was reporting all of this to FlixNChill's Head of Original Programming, Tally Tajaria.
Beside her was her boss. And from the deference being shown to the older man with them, possibly her boss's boss.
“Ms. Mitchell,” Tally said coldly. “We need to discuss some serious concerns that have been brought to our attention.”
“I don't... what is this?”
“This,” Parker said, opening her laptop, “is your real resume. Not the one you submitted to FlixNChill.” She turned the screen toward the executives.
“Ms. Mitchell was expelled from USC's journalism program for fabricating sources.
She was sued by two subjects of her student documentary for invasion of privacy and harassment.
She filmed them without their knowledge in the women's locker room. Both cases were settled out of court.”
“There was an NDA. Our lawyers said it was all sealed,” Sloane protested.
“Sealed doesn't mean gone,” Parker said. “Especially when FlixNChill's legal team gets involved. You also failed to disclose that your uncle is on the board of the production company that initially hired you. The same uncle who recommended you to FlixNChill.”
Coach Reimann and the Bandits PR director had joined our growing circle.
“But the most concerning discovery,” Tally Tajaria said, “is this pattern of targeting specific players.” She held up a printout.
“Ms. Mitchell's personal notes, recovered from her FlixNChill cloud storage. She specifically selected seven players for this season based on their suspected sexual orientation.”
“I was trying to increase representation,” Sloane said desperately. “To make the League more inclusive.”
“By threatening to out them against their will?” The PR director stepped forward. “Ms. Mitchell, the Bandits organization is fully committed to supporting all our players, regardless of orientation. But that support means letting them tell their own stories on their own timeline.”
“She has a point though,” the older executive said thoughtfully. “The League does need to be more inclusive.”
“Absolutely,” Coach Reimann agreed. “Which is why we're working with Gryff Kingman on plans to launch a comprehensive pride initiative next season, with safe spaces, support systems, and voluntary visibility campaigns. Not forced outings for television drama.”
Sloane was looking around wildly now, realizing how thoroughly she'd been exposed.
“The photos,” she said suddenly, desperately. “I have photos of players—“
“You mean these?” Parker pulled out a tablet, showing thumbnails of various images that had been electronically blurred.
“All retrieved from your personal devices and cloud storage. Which, by the way, violates about fifteen FlixNChill policies regarding exploitation of subjects and invasion of privacy.”
“Not to mention the potential criminal charges,” Dad added pleasantly. “Blackmail is still illegal in California, last I checked.”
“You can't prove—“
“Actually,” Harry, Sloane's lead cameraman, stepped forward from where he'd been standing with the crew. “We can.”
Everyone turned to look at him. Sloane's face went white.
“Harry, what are you—“
He pulled out his phone and connected it to the facility's display screen.
“I've been documenting Ms. Mitchell's behavior for weeks.” A video started playing, showing Sloane cornering someone whose face was blurred, but I recognized the player and the conversation.
How this tiny worm of a woman had intimidated the commanding tower of Xander Rosemount was mindboggling.
“Listen [BLEEP],” Sloane's voice was clear on the recording.
“I'm trying to help you here. This is your chance to control your own narrative.
Otherwise, well, things have a way of getting out in this industry.
Photos surface, rumors start... it gets messy.
I'd hate to see that happen when we could make this a beautiful, empowering moment for you instead.
You understand what I'm saying, don't you?
Friday's when we film the segment. Your choice how this story gets told—by you, on your terms, or... not.”
“You recorded me?” Sloane spun on Harry, furious. “You work for me.”
“I work for FlixNChill,” Harry corrected quietly. “And I have about fifteen more videos like this. Different players, same threats. I blurred their faces and bleeped their names to protect their identities, but it's all here. Every threat, every manipulation, every time you crossed the line.”
“You little—“
“I couldn't stand by and watch you destroy these guys' lives for ratings,” Harry said firmly. “That's not why I got into television.”
Sloane's face had gone from pale to gray.
Tally Tajaria looked around, frustrated. “The problem is, Rookie Rising is one of our top-rated shows. We can't just cancel the rest of the season. We need someone who can take over immediately, who knows the players, knows the show...”
“Kendra could do it,” Harry said suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at him, including Kendra, whose face flushed pink.
“Kendra, my assistant Kendra?” Tally asked and looked over at the woman who'd remained quiet throughout the entire confrontation.
“I've worked with her on three other projects,” Harry explained, his voice gaining confidence. “She understands sports, she respects the subjects, and she actually cares about telling real stories, not manufacturing drama.”