The media is going to crucify me if I can't get Brandy to drop the charges and issue a public statement pretty fucking quick. Even then, it might already be too late. Regardless, I'll be vindicated. I'd never put my hands on a woman in anger, and that lying bitch knows it's true.
I don't care that she's Ripley's cousin; she's going down for filing a false police report at the very least. I have a hard time believing Ripley will argue with that, because from what I've seen, Brandy sure doesn't treat her like any kind of family I've ever had.
And fuck, Ripley. She's stuck at my place, not sure what the hell is going on. I feel like shit that I couldn't take the time to explain, but I wasn't about to drag her outside with the cops and let some asshole with a long lens get a picture of her caught up in this mess. Those frigging paparazzi are like some unholy combination of cockroach and vulture lately. Scuttling out of nowhere and picking at the bones until there's nothing left.
Like I told Ripley, my privacy is what I miss the most, and I miss it even more now that she's in my life.
If she's in my life much longer.
No, there's no way she'll believe Brandy's accusation.
But it's Brandy's word against mine, and she's the one with the wicked shiner, according to the pictures the cops shoved in my face.
They didn't care that I said I didn't touch her, just told me to tell it to the judge. They were the second type of cop you run into in Nashville. Type one being the kind who will usually let things slide if you're a celebrity. Type two is the hard-ass who wants to make sure you're not getting any special treatment at all due to your status. I don't usually care either way, but this time, it's bullshit.
"Thrasher, you're sprung," a guard's voice calls out as he walks down the hall to slide the cell door open.
Thank fuck.
I don't know what strings my agent and my lawyer had to pull, and I don't care how much it cost me, but I'm glad to be walking out of here.
At least I am until I hit the lobby and see the cameras flashing in the direction of the woman waiting for me. As I step through the door, she runs and throws herself into my arms.
"I came as fast as I could, baby. Everything's going to be just fine now."
I'm stunned and motionless as Amber plants her lips on mine.
5
Ripley
No. Way. In. Hell.
That's what I told Law when he said that Boone has been charged with assault and battery by my own damned cousin.
When I whispered, "I'm going to kill her," Law stopped me and said I better not say things like that because he'd be ethically bound to report it if he thought I was serious.
I hung up on him.
"What the fuck is going on?" Hope asks as she pulls into a parking space near her building.
"I don't know, but it sounds like a whole lot of crap to me."
I fill her in on everything Law just told me. I'm of half a mind to go right back to the Fishbowl and confront Brandy, but after her outright lying to the cops and then lying to me only fifteen minutes ago, I know it's not going to do me any good. Worst-case scenario, I end up in jail too because I actually beat the crap out of her.
I know, in my heart of hearts, that Boone didn't touch her.
And I have a way to prove it.
"I need my laptop."
"Why?"
"I hooked up a DIY security-camera system in the bar a while ago because I wanted to figure out who was skimming from the till. I'm hoping the camera angles are going to be able to prove that Boone didn't touch Brandy."
"That's freaking brilliant."
I shrug. "It would've been even more brilliant if I'd updated my phone to download the app so I could watch the feed anywhere, but I never bothered after I saw it was obviously Brandy."
Hope turns to me, an eyebrow raised. "Why didn't you fire her ass or tell your dad?"
"I knew it wouldn't matter. For some reason, she can do no wrong in his eyes."
"While you can do no right," she finishes for me.
It's the sad truth, so I reach for the door handle instead of responding.
As soon as we're in the apartment, I pull my laptop out of my stuff in the living room and log on to the website where my camera feeds run. They only back up for a few days at a time because I didn't have the cash to spring for a bajillion bytes of extra storage, but we were only there yesterday, so I should be able to see everything.
I type the approximate time we got to the Fishbowl into the search bar and wait for the video to populate.
After I skip forward a little bit, the video shows the door swinging open and Boone walking inside. Hope leans over my shoulder to watch.