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Brandon spent all day Wednesday with Tré. They lounged around, binged Luke Cage, and ordered dinner in. When it was time to sleep, Tré took Brandon’s hand and pulled him into his bedroom. Under the covers, they’d kissed and touched until Brandon came with his lips pressed against Tré’s shoulder to muffle his cries and Tré groaning into his hair from his own climax. They’d fallen asleep with their legs entwined, Tré’s arm loosely draped over Brandon’s hip.
Now, Brandon accompanied him to Boston as planned, where FPW would record its next live show. The relaxed travel atmosphere between them was back. They talked on the flight, discussing possible ways for Brandon to make his return to the company. Things were so comfortable between them that Brandon kept randomly breaking into happy smiles and had to remind himself several times not to lean in for a kiss on the plane or in the airport where some fan might see and snap a pic.
Once they were alone in the rental car, however, it was a different story. He pulled Tré to him and hit him with the kind of kiss that might have led to a scramble for the backseat and steamy car windows if they didn’t have to get to the arena for Tré to make check-in on time.
“What was that for?” Tré asked when they separated.
Brandon shrugged. “I’m excited. And I’ve wanted to kiss you the entire trip here.”
“I think I’m going to like spontaneous road trip kisses,” Tré said with a small grin.
Tré leaned across the center console and gave him a soft kiss. Then he pulled back and got them on the road. They continued to talk as they headed down the highway. But when they reached the arena, Brandon quieted, his shoulders tightening with tension. He didn’t know how people were going to react to his return. Would they judge him for leaving to join another company, only to quit after two months?
Brandon nervously fiddled with the loose end of the strap on his backpack as he waited for the security guard to check their names. He had a brief flash of panic that Alex had changed his mind and left him off the list. But the security guard scratched his pen across the paper on his clipboard twice and opened the door.
Inside the arena, Devin was the first person they saw. He came to a surprised halt then walked over with a big grin on his face.
“Brandon!”
Brandon returned his friend’s smile. “Hey, Devin.” They did a quick handshake to bro hug, happily slapping each other on the back.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m making my triumphant return to Frontier Pro.”
Devin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“That’s awesome.” Devin went in for another hug, this one with lots more exuberance. “Glad to have you back, man.”
“Thanks.”
Devin stepped to the side, and Brandon’s shoulders relaxed as a few more wrestlers and crew came up and welcomed him back as well. No one said anything about his time at Grand. He started to feel good about his return, thinking he’d stressed for nothing. Tuscaloosa Joe, a young rookie with a black cowboy gimmick joined the group around Brandon. Joe shook Brandon’s hand, but gave him a sly grin.
“So, you went to GWS and now you’re back. I guess we all know who the mole is.”
Brandon’s shoulders tightened again and his smile faded. “It’s not me.”
“I’m just joking man,” Joe said as he laughed and clapped Brandon on the arm.
Brandon’s smile returned, although now it was slightly forced. He’d been worried about people judging him for running back to FPW after failing so hard over at GWS. He hadn’t even thought to be concerned people might think he was the one leaking FPW secrets to the bigger promotion. Brandon remembered what Rongo had said, that GWS definitely had a plant here, but he wasn’t going to bring it up in front of half the roster.
Thankfully, Joe wandered off without saying anything else, and Brandon said hello and exchanged hugs and handshakes with the rest of the people who came over to welcome him back. When the crowd finally dwindled, Tré wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and guided him away.
“C’mon, let’s go talk to Alex.”
They followed the signs leading the way to Mercer’s office. Tré reached for the doorknob, but Brandon stopped him before he could open it.
Tré looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “What’s up?”
Brandon chewed his lip for a moment before he responded with a question of his own. “Do you think Joe was serious about me being GWS’s spy?”
“Of course not. We all know you better than that. And if Joe doesn’t, he’s an idiot.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Brandon tried to shake off his discomfort at Joe’s remark, but his back was still a little up when he went into the room Alex was using as his office for the night. Chance was there too, both men sitting at a small round table and watching him expectantly as he walked in.
“You’re back,” Alex said as he indicated the two chairs at the table for Tré and Brandon to take a seat.
“Yeah.” Brandon stayed standing and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want this to come off as me running home with my tail between my legs.”
Alex held a hand up. “Stop. You’re not the first person to make a switch between wrestling companies and you won’t be the last.”
Chance spoke up next. “And don’t think we’re going to put you through any damn hoops either. We’re trying to put on a good show. We don’t have time to be petty.”
Caught between a laugh and wanting to choke up at how easily he’d been welcomed back, Brandon finally relaxed and sat in the chair. “Thanks. It’ll be nice to work for a non-petty company again.”
“Do I even want to know what happened over there?” Alex asked.
Brandon looked at Tré, who gave him a go-ahead nod. “I got into an argument with Duke Taylor when he spouted off that Grand would never have a black champion. I took offense, and we got in each other’s face. Rongo and a few other people stopped it before it got physical. Next thing I know, they’re dropping me down the card as punishment for daring to speak up against the champ.”
Chance’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Holy shit.”
“That was my reaction,” Tré said. “It’s normal for the top guy to have influence. But that kind of power is ridiculous.”
Alex looked back and forth between Tré and Brandon, meeting their gazes directly. “You know I’d never stand for anything like that here.”
FPW’s first ever champion was a black man. Ruthless Ray had retired a few years back, but in the years since his reign, there’d been a lot of diversity in FPW’s title holders. Alex was known for making FPW a positive place to wrestle and that included equal opportunity for his roster. It went without saying that he wouldn’t allow a situation like what happened with Duke to take place here and Brandon nodded to acknowledge that.
“We need to talk about when we can get you back on the roster and on the air. Do you have a non-compete clause in your contract? Because if you do, we shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
Brandon shook his head. “No. They tried to put one in there when I signed, but I had them take it out.”
“That’s good.” Alex nodded at his booker then looked back at Brandon. “Then we should be able to work you in almost immediately.”
“Now, for the most important part.” Chance leaned back in his chair. “I’m guessing since Tré is with you, you two want to be together.”
Brandon’s eyebrows shot up at the change in topic, but he went ahead and answered the question. “Yeah, we finally talked and realized we have feelings for each other.”
“That’s nice,” Chance said with a grin. “And I’m glad to hear it. But I meant together as a tag team.”
After a beat of silence, Brandon dropped his head back with an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, fuck. I’m an idiot.” He looked back at Chance who was still grinning. “Yes, we want to tag together again.” He turned to Tré to see him trying not to laugh. “Right?”
“Definitely.”
“We’re in New York next week. That’s one of the hottest crowds of the year, so that’d be a great night to have you make your return.”
The four of them sketched out the plan for the Pittsburgh Power Machine to reunite, then Brandon signed his new FPW contract. When they were finished with everything, Alex held out his hand.
“Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” Happy to be back where he felt most at home, Brandon reached across the table to shake his boss’s hand. He got up to leave, but remembered what he wanted to say about their former booker. “I talked to Rongo a couple of times while I was at GWS. He made it clear that if I shared any insider info and storylines from Frontier Pro, it would help my career with the promotion. I told him no way, of course, but he confirmed they have someone here leaking info to GWS and the dirt sheets.”
Alex nodded grimly. “Just as I suspected.”
“You were right to be suspicious. Rongo didn’t tell me who it was, but somebody here is on the Grand Wrestling Syndicate payroll.”
Later that night, Brandon sat in the back, watching the show on the TV the crew set up for the roster. As the two-hour show went on, various people came and sat with him before going out for their own segments. The ever-changing group talked and analyzed each match without any of the bloodthirsty critiques he’d witnessed at GWS. Brandon much preferred this atmosphere.
When it was time for Tré’s match, Brandon paid close attention. Tré looked amazing in the ring. He’d clearly figured out how to be a singles wrestler and was able to work the crowd on his own without the help of a hype-man tag partner. As he watched, Brandon wondered if he was doing the right thing barging in on him. Maybe he should have told Alex and Chance he wanted to be on his own. That way Tré could continue his singles run and get a shot at some individual titles.
Slade approached, dressed in his ring gear of tight leather pants tucked into black boots and his nearly waist-length black hair braided into two plaits. He sat behind Brandon and nodded at the screen, where Tré was holding his opponent over his head in a stalling suplex.
“Are you guys going to be working together again?”
“Yep.”
“When are you making your big comeback?”
Brandon leaned his head back to look at Slade, giving the tall wrestler an upside-down smile. “Next week in New York, New York, baby.”
“Nice.”
When Brandon commented on Tré’s new ring style, Slade laughingly told him about the car rides where he and Garrett had bulldozed Tré into making changes.
Brandon shook his head. “You two are ridiculous. But thanks for looking out for him.” He held his fist over his shoulder, and Slade reached forward to bump it with his own.
“No problem.”
Tré’s match ended with him picking up the win, and Brandon nodded with approval as Tré went around giving high fives to the ringside fans. When Tré came back through the curtain, Brandon waved to get his attention. Tré approached, his stride long, shoulders confidently back, and body gleaming with sweat.
Brandon barely refrained from licking his lips as he watched. That gorgeous man was finally his. He stood when Tré reached their little group. “You looked good out there.”
Tré smiled and then so casually it was as if they’d done it a thousand times, he leaned in and gave Brandon a kiss.
Slade wolf-whistled. “So that’s how it is. Now I see why you really came back.”
Brandon turned and faced his friend. “That’s only half the reason.”
“What’s the other half?”
“The people over at GWS are dicks.”
“And yet you came back to get you some of this one. Which reminds me.” Slade elbowed Lee, the ref who’d been quietly sitting next to him during their conversation. “Who had this week for these two finally getting their heads out of their asses?”
Brandon frowned as the older man pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pants pocket.
“Looks like this week was Lorena.”
Lorena whooped and jumped up out of her chair, doing a happy shimmy when Lee handed her a wad of cash.
Brandon watched in confusion. “What is happening right now?”
Tré groaned before answering. “Apparently these idiots had a locker room betting pool going for when we’d finally get together.”
Understanding hit Brandon. “Oh, so we’re that couple.”
Slade grinned. “You mean the one that goes through a bunch of drama while everybody else watches and waits for you to figure out what they already know? Yep.”
Brandon glared at Slade before turning his ire on Lorena. He had to fight to keep from laughing at the sight of her happy dancing while in full, terrifying Lady Death makeup. “I hope you enjoy your ill-gotten gains.”
She laughed and fanned out her winnings. “I’ll buy you both a beer tonight after the show.”
Tré wrapped an arm around Brandon from behind, pulling him into his body. He was sweaty, but Brandon didn’t mind.
“I hope you guys will extend the same courtesy to us as you have Chance and Devin and keep our relationship out of the public.”
Lorena and everyone else around nodded while Slade answered for the group. “Of course, brother. We’ve got your back.”
Lee spoke up as well. “Agreed. What goes on in our private lives is off limits.”
“Thanks,” Tré said. “We appreciate it.”
Tré had to shower before they hit the road, so he headed back to the locker room. Brandon went with him, trailing slightly behind as they walked. He unashamedly stared at his boyfriend’s body, from the wide shoulders and muscled back to his tight waist, all the way down to his deliciously round ass. The tight gold spandex cupped his firm cheeks, the light gleaming off the material as Tré moved.
Damn...he’d had his hands all over it during their short stay at Tré’s apartment. But there were other parts of his body that wanted a turn worshipping that fine ass. They’d gotten each other off several times yesterday, but hadn’t gone further than touching and kissing.
Brandon cleared his throat. “Now that I see these tights in person, I really like them.”
“Thanks.”
Brandon skipped closer and continued. “Your ass is so perky I could set that drink Lorena is planning to buy me on it.”
Tré barked a laugh but didn’t stop walking. “You are not using my ass as your beer shelf.”
“Oh, yeah? Then what can I do with it?”
“Hmmm...how about proving some of those fic writers wrong?”
Brandon dragged his gaze away from the gleaming gold spandex. “Huh?”
Tré stopped in front of the locker room door and turned around. “I looked up Pittsburgh Power Machine on Fanfiction dot net. Turns out you were right and they’ve got me as the top.”
Brandon’s mouth went dry as excitement kicked his heart rate up a notch. “What are you saying?”
“Like I said,” Tré paused and gave Brandon a wicked grin. “Let’s prove ’em wrong.”
He turned back around and flexed his ass muscles twice before disappearing into the locker room, leaving Brandon standing there with his mouth hanging open and dick getting harder by the second.
“That was the longest drive of my life.”
Brandon led Tré into their hotel room for the night and dropped his bag on the floor. They’d skipped going out with the roster in favor of hustling down the highway to the next town.
Tré set his luggage down at the end of one of the double beds. He turned back to look at Brandon with a brow raised. “Yeah? Any reason you were in a rush to get here?”
Brandon laughed. “Don’t tease me. I’ve been thinking about what you said outside the locker room the entire ride here.” He walked up to Tré and slid his arms around his waist. “If you were just kidding or changed your mind, that’s okay.”
Tré shook his head. “No to both of those.” He tipped Brandon’s face up, bending down so they could kiss. Their lips met, clung softly, then separated just enough for Tré to lick into his mouth. Brandon captured that seeking tongue, sucking on it a few times before slowly letting go.
Anticipation quickly turned the kiss hot and frantic. Brandon started to get hard, blood rushing to stiffen his cock and desire pooling low in his gut. Tré slipped a hand between them and rubbed Brandon’s erection. The sound of his palm sliding over cloth and their rushed breathing filled the air as Tré cupped and stroked, driving Brandon crazy with need.
With a deep groan, he went up on his toes, straining to get even closer. He dropped his arms from around Tré’s waist to grab two handfuls of his boyfriend’s thick ass. He squeezed and even jiggled it a little bit, then slid his fingers down Tré’s crack, rubbing against the denim seam of his jeans. When he pressed in, Tré moaned, a deep sound that rolled out of his chest and made Brandon’s stomach clench with desire.
“What do you want?” Tré asked in a husky whisper.
Brandon would almost have been happy just to kiss and play with Tré’s ass and let his boyfriend rub him off all night. Especially since Tré was still stroking his cock. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Tré’s offer. With lust shorting out his brain, Brandon said the first words that popped into his head. “I want to eat your ass.”
Tré’s eyebrows shot up.
Embarrassed heat scorched Brandon from head to toe. “Oh, hell. That was too much wasn’t it? I should have said something classy.”
Apparently unbothered, Tré shrugged. “Say what you feel.” Turning around, he pulled his pants and briefs down, revealing the smooth, dark skin and plump curves of the best ass in professional wrestling. He looked back over his shoulder with a grin. “Eat it like groceries.”
Brandon’s eyes popped open wide. Then he laughed and lunged, taking Tré down to the bed. They wrestled back and forth, laughing, kissing, and kicking out of the rest of their clothes. Eventually Brandon managed to lie on top of Tré’s back with his legs locked around Tré’s waist. Tré immediately went limp.
“Oh, no. You won. Guess I’ll have to take whatever punishment you dish out.”
Brandon threw back his head and laughed at both the comment and the sad, defeated tone. “Somebody’s been watching Naked Kombat.”
Tré waited a beat before answering in a sly voice. “Maybe.”
Fondly shaking his head at his boyfriend’s porn choices, Brandon released his hold and pressed a kiss to the top of Tré’s spine. “I would never punish you. Just want to make you feel good.” He scooted back so Tré could turn over and ended up straddling his boyfriend’s hips. Brandon wiggled at the feel of Tré between his legs, a picture of him riding Tré’s cock blooming in his head.
Tré groaned. “B.”
“Sorry. Just imagining riding you.”
Tré ran his tongue over his full bottom lip. “You don’t have to just imagine, you know.”
“Nice try,” Brandon said with a grin. “You know what I want.”
He moved down so he could kiss the smooth skin of Tré’s chest. He dragged his tongue over the flat nipple until it tightened and rose up to meet his lips. Brandon sucked at it, taking it between his teeth for a gentle love bite. More kisses took him on a journey down Tré’s abs, then lower to dip his tongue into the valley of his pelvis. He nosed at the erection lying heavy on Tré’s belly, but didn’t lick or kiss it. If he did, he’d get distracted and end up sucking that beautiful cock. Instead, he encouraged Tré to turn onto his front again.
Once his boyfriend lay flat on his stomach, Brandon licked down the dip of his spine, smiling when Tré reflexively shivered. He cupped his lover’s ass, thumbs resting between the firm cheeks. Starting from the spot behind his balls, he licked up, each swipe taking him deeper and deeper, until his tongue pressed against Tré’s entrance. A rough shuddering groan came from above him.
“Do you like that?” Brandon asked.
“I love it.”
Brandon shifted into a more comfortable position. Then he spread Tré wide and slid the tip of his tongue inside. He tasted and licked while Tré writhed beneath him, pushing his hips back in a greedy demand for more. He tried to tease with lighter licks of his tongue, but Tré reached back and tangled his fingers in Brandon’s hair, pulling him in close. Brandon groaned. With his face buried between Tré’s cheeks, he parted his lips and devoured him with deep licks and openmouthed kisses. Tré moaned, pushing his hips back to meet Brandon’s tongue. His boyfriend’s pleasure pushed Brandon’s arousal so high he had to hump the mattress to get a little relief for his throbbing dick.
A tired tongue and aching jaw finally forced Brandon to pull back. Brandon lightly bit down on one plump cheek before resting his chin there. “You still want me inside you?”
Tré huffed a breathless laugh. “If I didn’t before, I definitely do now.”
His cock was demanding attention, stiff and leaking pre-cum. Still, Brandon spared precious moments to hurriedly glove and slick up, but took his time preparing Tré just for the sheer enjoyment of watching him shake with pleasure, his entrance gleaming with lube.
When Brandon was ready, he grasped himself at the base of his cock and pressed the head to Tré’s entrance. Sweat trickled down his chest as he moved his hips in little pulses, waiting for Tré to let him in. In slow, gradual stages, Tré softened, his rim giving way to let Brandon ease inside. They both groaned when Brandon sank all the way in. Brandon bit his lip when he pulled back for the first time. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he said as he set a pace of deep, steady thrusts.
Tré didn’t answer. But he spread his legs wide, arched his spine, and went up on his knees a little, raising his ass in the air.
Brandon’s cock and his head nearly exploded at the sight of his lover so open and ready. “Oh my God.” He gripped Tré’s hip, thumb pressing hard into the dip of his back. The heady scent of sex filled the air, and Brandon dropped his head back to breathe it in. His rhythm changed—slow drag out, quick slam in—letting him savor Tré’s channel dragging along the entire length of his dick. Tré slipped an arm beneath himself. Brandon knew the exact moment his lover grasped his cock and started stroking, because his ass clenched on Brandon’s shaft. The arousal coursing through him shot up even higher. With unexpected swiftness, Brandon’s spine tingled and his cock pulsed with an oncoming orgasm.
It had been a long time since he’d reached climax this fast. But tonight, it rose up, taking him by surprise and stealing his breath. His heart thundering as if he’d just wrestled a sixty-minute iron man match, he gripped Tré’s waist with both hands, keeping him steady as he pumped his hips back and forth. Tré’s moans intensified, his right bicep bulging as he moved his arm back and forth with increasing speed.
“Fuck, fuck. I’m coming, B.” Tré trailed off into a string of groans and curses, his hips rolling, body shaking with small little involuntary jerks as he came.
His eyes wide, Brandon watched the sensual show before him until his own release overtook him. His head fell forward on his neck as moans so desperate they were practically sobs poured from his mouth. Brandon rapidly slammed his hips back and forth, thigh muscles tight and flexing until his release shot from his throbbing cock. He stayed pressed against Tré’s ass, grinding his cock in deep until the explosive, sparkling pleasure started to recede.
Bracing one hand on the bed, Brandon gently withdrew and moved from between Tré’s sprawled thighs. Tré straightened his legs and turned onto his side, shifting slightly to avoid the wet spot beneath him. Brandon mirrored his pose and ran his fingers over Tré’s bare hip. “Was that okay?”
Tré drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a content sigh before answering. “Five stars.”
Brandon grinned. “Good. Because I loved it and I want to do it again. But not before you do me. Maybe two or three times, because I’m going to love the way that feels.”
Tré raised an eyebrow. “Is all that happening tonight?”
“No.” Brandon laughed. “Just making plans for a very sexy future.”
“Good.” Tré slid an arm around Brandon’s waist to pull him close. “Because now that you’re back where you belong, we have plenty of time to explore everything we want to do to each other.”
“Yeah.” Brandon couldn’t stop touching Tré. He smoothed his hands over sex-warmed skin as he looked up into his lover’s dark eyes. “Back where I belong.”
***
Happy. Brandon was happy. No, he was fucking giddy. He and his best friend were finally together as a couple. They’d had sex several times since their night in Hartford, and he hadn’t had any issues. And, he’d be back on the air in the ring with Tré tonight in front of a New York City crowd. His life was pretty damn sweet.
He and Tré sat with Chad and Brad in catering, discussing how they wanted their segment to go. Chad and Brad were the stage names the two men used for their Hampton Bros gimmick. Chad wore his hair dyed Ken doll blond and slicked back, while Brad’s thick black hair was precisely trimmed into a small, perfectly shaped rectangle. They both wore pastel sweaters neatly tied over their shoulders and carried tennis rackets to complete the country club look.
“Since you guys are doing the weekly challenge for your tag titles, how about I come out first, you guys mock me for not having a partner then the old Pittsburgh Power Machine music hits and Brandon comes out,” Tré suggested.
“I like it,” Chad said. “The crowd will pop for B, and they’ll look forward to us getting our asses kicked.”
Brad nodded in agreement. “They’ll be so excited to see your team back together they won’t mind too much when we cheat to win.”
Brandon laughed. “You damn cowardly heels.”
“Hey, Brandon.”
He looked up to see one of the crew hands leaning half in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“There’s a messenger at the back door for you.”
“Thanks, Dave.” Brandon stood up from the table and gave Tré’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be back.” Wondering who would be sending him a delivery at the arena, Brandon made his way over to the rear door. A courier from a private messenger service waited just outside, an arena security guard standing nearby.
“Brandon Wilkes?”
“That’s me.”
The gray-uniformed man held out an electronic pad. “Sign here please.”
Using the tip of his finger, Brandon signed the small screen, then accepted the flat envelope the messenger passed over. “Thank you.”
The man left, and Brandon went back inside, pulling the tab to open the package as he walked back to catering. In the envelope, there was an official letter from Walther and Sharpe, Attorneys at Law, sent on behalf of Grand Wrestling Syndicate. He quickly scanned it. There was a lot of legal jargon, but the phrase that leaped out at him was Breach of Contract.
Brandon came to a dead stop. Breach of contract? How? He’d been granted his release, signed all the paperwork. He went back to the top and read again, seeing that GWS claimed he was in breach of contract by working with Frontier Pro as he’d agreed not to appear on a rival promotions TV program. His hands shaking with confused anger, Brandon pulled out the papers that were in the envelope. A paragraph had a little yellow flag stuck next to it, with a sentence highlighted: Brandon Wilkes will not appear on any televised promotions for the period of one year after release from Grand Wrestling Syndicate. His signature was on that page at the bottom.
“What the fuck?” Brandon wondered if this was some kind of scam. He’d made sure he didn’t have a non-compete clause in his contract when he’d signed with Grand. They could make life difficult for a wrestler trying to make a living after leaving a company. So why was there one there now?
“What’s going on?”
Brandon looked up to see Tré approaching. “I don’t think I can go on air tonight.”
“Why not?”
“I’m in breach of contract with GWS,” he said, angrily waving the papers in his hand.
Tré looked confused. “What? I thought you didn’t have a non-compete in your contract?”
“I thought so too. I don’t understand what the fuck is happening.”
“Let me see.”
Brandon handed all the papers over to his boyfriend, then stood there quietly fuming while he looked them over. Tré took his time, thoroughly reading each page. When he was done, he lowered the papers to his side.
“It says here that you were exempt from the non-compete only if you completed your full contract with GWS. Since you asked for an early release, it goes into effect. You initialed the clause and signed the page, B. Did you read it first?”
“No.” Embarrassed heat flooded Brandon’s face at that admission. “I was ready to get the hell out of there. And since they were clearly happy to get rid of me. I didn’t think those dirty bastards would sneak something like that into my release. What now? Does that mean I have to wait a whole year before I can come back to work for FPW?”
“Not quite. You can buy your way out of the contract. A third of your three-year salary, roughly five hundred thousand dollars.”
“What? Those motherfuckers want me to pay them to let me work? That’s bullshit!”
“It is. We can get lawyers and fight this, but it’s going to take time.”
The anger abruptly drained out of Brandon and his shoulders slumped in defeat. This was his fault for putting his signature on something without reading it. He knew better. “I guess I have to tell Alex things have changed for tonight.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, it’s okay. I got into this mess by myself. No reason to drag you into the shit show,” he said as he started to trudge off. Tré stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, wait a minute.”
Brandon turned back, almost too embarrassed to make eye contact. But there was no anger or derision on Tré’s face. Instead, his dark eyes sparkled with the same fondness they always had when Tré looked at him.
“I’m all-in with you no matter what. I mean that,” Tré said with a squeeze to Brandon’s shoulder. “We go together.”
Brandon rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay.” He managed to smile a little. “Thank you for that,” he said with sincere gratitude. He’d feel better with Tré at his side. They walked side by side to Alex’s office. Brandon knocked on the open door and Alex called out for him to come in.
“I’ve got some bad news.” He paused to clear his throat, then forged ahead and got it over with. “I was wrong about not having a non-compete so I can’t appear on FPW TV for a while.”
Alex’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”
Brandon stood there quietly as Tré passed the letter over for Alex to read.
He read it as thoroughly as Tré had before looking back up. “That’s a dirty trick to pull.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Alex. I had no idea they’d added that clause when I left.”
Alex took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Damn them. Okay. We’ll put the plans for your return on hold while we get this straightened out. We probably shouldn’t use FPW lawyers because there might be a conflict of interest. Let me know if you need any recs, and I can get you some names.”
Tré spoke up. “I hate to even say this and go all conspiracy theory. But it’s an awful big coincidence that they chose tonight to send that letter over.”
Brandon shut his eyes for a moment. A headache started pounding behind his lids and tightened the back of his neck. “Damn. You might be right.”
Alex agreed. “Based on what you told me about the way they forced you out and the fact that we know they’ve got eyes here, it makes sense. They must know we were doing your return tonight and made sure to have that notice delivered just in time to stop it.”
It was quiet for a few seconds as they all considered the petty new low GWS had sunk to.
Alex asked a question. “How soon do you want to be back on TV?”
Brandon didn’t hesitate to answer. “Immediately. This clause is the only thing stopping me.” He rubbed his nape again. “I’ll get a lawyer like you said, but I’m going to call their personnel department and find out what the process is for buying out my contract.”
“Five hundred thousand is a lot of money. Do you have that readily available?”
“Yeah. The one thing I have going for me is money smarts. I can cover it.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go through the courts and fight this?” Tré asked.
“I’m sure.”
Alex nodded. “Okay, keep me posted.”
Tré and Brandon left, making their way back to catering in a decidedly less enthused mood. Chad and Brad were still at the table. Lorena, Yasmina, and Devin had joined them.
“What happened?” Chad asked.
Tré looked to Brandon. “Do you want me to tell them?”
Brandon shrugged. “No point in keeping it a secret. They’ll know something is up when I don’t come out tonight.”
“Brandon was served with a breach of contract notice from Grand,” Tré said as they sat down next to each other.
“What?” the small group asked in near unison.
Brandon laughed, although it was tinged with bitterness. “That seems to be the universal reaction. Basically, I fucked up and signed a clause I shouldn’t have. Now, it’s either hire a lawyer to fight it, stay off TV for a year, or buy out my contract.”
Five pairs of eyes stared at Brandon in disbelief.
“That is bottom of the barrel pettiness,” Yasmina said.
Devin shook his head. “By the time you finish paying a lawyer and court fees and account for the money lost not working, you might as well pay the buyout.”
“I agree, and that’s what I plan to do.” Brandon shoved his hands into his hair, squeezing the strands tight in frustration. “This is a nightmare.” He pushed back to his feet. “I’m going to make some calls—get the ball rolling on cleaning up this mess.”
“You need me to come with you or you want to walk alone for a while?” Tré asked with quiet sympathy.
Brandon thought about it for a few seconds before answering. “Alone is good right now.”
“All right. Text me if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Brandon forced a smile onto his face to reassure his friends, then took off to sit by himself.
