36. Hawk
“Mr. Castor! Mr. Castor, look this way, please!”
The shouts were constant, the crowd in the press room resembling sharks at a feeding frenzy. They knew something good was coming, and they all wanted to be ready. Flash bulbs went off, one after the other, lighting up the room and rendering me blind to the crowd shouting and shoving before me.
I stood beside Victoria, shoulder to shoulder, as her father stood at the microphones, hands on the podium in front of him while he basked in their attention.
Fucking vampire.
I wanted to puke. This entire situation was rapidly spiraling out of control, and I had no way of stopping it. I had to protect my guys; they didn’t deserve to suffer if it was something I could prevent.
When I said I’d do anything for them, I’d meant it.
But standing here, seconds away from Castor making his announcement, I felt my gorge rising as the reality of what I’d agreed to began to choke me.
I was afraid I’d never breathe again.
“Thank you, everyone, for joining us today. And thank you all for supporting Black Kite on their recent tour. It was so great to see our loyal fans and followers coming out and joining us in stadiums and arenas across the country and around the globe. There really is nothing like the experience of a live show to let you know that rock and roll will never die.”
The crowd laughed, clapping and fawning over him like the sycophants they were. The whole thing was making me sick. Beside me, Victoria practically vibrated, her attempt at playing it cool deteriorating by the second.
Castor needed to hurry his shit up, or she was going to explode.
“Today, I have something even more exciting for you all,” he went on once the chatter had died down. “It seems that this tour produced more than just sold-out venues and tabloid fodder, am I right?” They all laughed again like the trained puppets they were. “Today I want to talk about love. Not something you typically think of when you think about rock music, but that’s what makes today’s announcement so unique. Because while out on tour, something amazing happened. Something surprising and,” he paused, turning to look at me, the calculating look in his eye making my stomach churn. “Something I’m pretty damn excited about. It gives me great pleasure to announce to you the engagement of my daughter, Victoria Castor, to the one and only, Hawk Jameson.”
The room exploded in a cacophony of noise and light. There was no way I could have differentiated one question from the other as the crowd of reporters all shouted and hollered, desperate to be heard over everyone else, to have their question be the one that was answered. To snag the exclusive and get the clicks.
While I blinked against the wave of flashes and lights, Tori made her move, sliding her arm through mine and dragging me with her as she replaced her father at the podium. Her megawatt smile was working overtime as she turned her head this way and that, attempting to let each of the photographers get her good side. I stood beside her, frozen like a corpse, hating every second of the circus I’d been roped into and unsure what the fuck to do about it.
“Thank you all so much,” Tori cooed when the noise had finally died down enough for her to speak. “Hawk and I are so excited to share our big news with you all. We’ve been keeping things quiet for so long, wanting the band to be able to focus on the tour, and making sure that all of our fans get the very best experience.”
“Our fans?” I muttered, turning my head so that the microphones wouldn’t pick up my words. “Those are Black Kite fans, not yours.”
Her smile grew brittle, but she didn’t falter enough that anyone actually noticed. Instead, she stepped even closer to me, slotting herself under my arms and pressing close to my side, one hand coming up to rest on my chest. To everyone else, we would look like a happy couple, cuddled up and in love.
In reality, the nails of her other hand were digging into my back, a clear warning to shut up and not fuck around.
Movement at the back of the room drew my gaze, and I startled when I saw the rest of my band enter the press room, their presence going unnoticed by the reporters who were still freaking the fuck out over the engagement announcement.
Looking at Gavin and Alex, I could read the shock and confusion all over their faces, likely hurt at being the last to know. Knowing I would have an ass-chewing coming my way, I grit my teeth and told myself I deserved it. I could never tell them the truth, not because I didn’t want them to know, but because of how they would have reacted if they knew what I’d done, what I’d signed myself up for to protect the band. Alex would lose his shit, probably throw something, and then punch a wall before storming off. Gavin would be more controlled, but his was a river that ran deep, and I knew the truth would hurt him much more than he would let on. They both would have insisted I not do it, that being found in breach of contract was fine and that Castor could go fuck himself.
And as nice as that would have been to say, the fact of the matter was that Castor might be an asshole of the highest order, but he was an influential asshole. The man had the power to make or break a career with one phone call. Blacklisting us for life was well within his power, and there was no one I could think of in the industry who would dare to stand against him.
I was fucked.
Which brought me to Lewis, and the look of utter hatred he was firing my way. I had known he’d be pissed, as his long-held torch for Victoria was a poorly kept secret, but if the expression on his face was any indication, Lewis might actually try to murder me if I wasn’t careful. I’d known the guy for a decade, and I’d never seen him so angry, not even the first time he caught me fucking Tori in that club.
No, this moment—Tori pressed up against me, looking happier than she’d ever looked—was officially the end of any hope Lewis and I had of ever fixing our relationship. The arrangement I had just agreed to had taken whatever was left between us and lit the fucking thing on fire.
“Victoria! Can you show us the ring?”
I cringed at the question, the reporter from High Notes Magazine smiling wide, as Tori held up the hand she had pressed to my chest.
“Isn’t it absolutely gorgeous?” Tori gushed, doing a little dance as she spoke. “I’m so lucky. It’s exactly what I’d always pictured.”
Of course it was. She’d bought it herself, pulling it out of her bag and sliding it on when I’d finally agreed to be the fucking dog in this dog and pony show. The thing was hideous, a massive pink monstrosity that looked like it weighed about as much as a baseball, and I had no idea how she’d even function with it on her hand, but what the fuck ever.
Not my fucking problem.
Cameras clicked, snapping photo after photo, and Tori posed and shifted, moving me and turning us to get the exact look she wanted.
Through it all, I just fucking stood there, staring into space and wondering how the fuck my life had wound up here.
“Hawk,” called a voice, and I stared around until I found the face that went with it. Seth Shipley, a freelance reporter we’d interviewed with on more than one occasion. Seth was a good guy, a straight shooter who asked pointed questions about the music, not the stupid gossipy stuff that so many of the journalists had allowed themselves to become slave to in the last few years.
But Seth was also really intelligent,and I could see that of all the people in the room, he was still skeptical. He was too smart to buy the bullshit Castor was shoveling, and if I wanted this to work, Seth was the one I was going to have to convince.
Shaking my hair out of my eyes, I put on my best shit-eating grin and offered Seth a chin lift.
“Hey, Seth,” I said amicably. “What’s up, my man. You good?”
“Yeah, Hawk. I’m good.” Seth pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose before he spoke again. And just like I’d expected, he pulled no punches.
“Hawk, I have to say, I’m a little surprised by this turn of events. There’s been no indication that you and Miss Castor had been seeing each other outside the workplace, not even in the last several years that you’ve worked together.” Smart bastard. He paused, still eyeing me, before he asked his question. “Can you tell me, in your own words, how you and Miss Castor found your way to each other?”
The room was silent as a tomb, every single person waiting with bated breath for my answer. Once I spoke, there would be no taking it back. My words would be delivered at the speed of light to every website, every music channel and radio station around the globe. It would be played and printed and quoted until people everywhere grew sick of hearing about it, and even then, it would continue. Because that was what this industry did to people, it broke them down into sound bites and snap shots and convinced itself that those microscopic glimpses into someone’s life were enough to paint a complete picture. That by reading the headlines and watching the playback, you could know everything there was to know about Hawk Jameson and then you could pass judgment like some sort of benevolent god, ready to offer mercy or condemnation with the stroke of a key and the sharing of a Tweet.
In that moment, I had never hated the entertainment industry more.
Lifting my eyes, I looked again at my band, each of them handling the news they were being given—with no advanced warning—in different ways, and I knew, with everything that I had within me, that protecting them was the right decision.
Even fucking Lewis.
So I turned my head, offering Tori what I hoped was an indulgent, couple-y look, before I smiled for the cameras and did my part.
“You know how it is, Seth,” I said, my tone belying the pure rage coursing through my veins. “You spend enough time with someone, and you really get to know who they are. At their core, I mean. You give someone enough time, and they will show you who they are as a person. That was when I knew. Because when it came down to it, Victoria showed me exactly who she was, and at that point...what else could I do but marry her?”
The crowd cheered, their excitement over the quote I had just given them palpable, but it was the look in Victoria’s eyes that really pleased me. Because she read every ounce of subtext in my words, and she knew that she may have won this battle, but that somehow, someway, I would win the fucking war.