"Only a weak man would use a woman," Fenton said. "My reputation might be tarnished, but nowhere in the long list of my misdemeanors and conflicts is there an accusation of treating a woman badly.
I wrapped my arm around Fenton's waist, glad for the solid feel of him in the sea of ogling faces. "Actions speak louder than words," I said.
"Say it again, darling," Fenton told me. He held the microphone in front of me.
"That photograph was a dirty trick. Peretti's all trash talk and tricks. Actions speak louder than words," I said.
Fenton's loyal fans erupted in chants and applause. It felt good to stand arm-in-arm with Fenton, even though I knew we had not yet come together.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kya
The music started again, and before I could turn to Fenton, he was disappearing into the crowd. He said something to a security guard in passing and the large man helped me off the dance floor. I was deposited near the bar and decided it was a good time for a drink.
"Order one for me, too," Kev said. He leaned on the bar to peer into my face. "You did alright on mic. I'm sure the fans wanted you to extol Fenton's sexual prowess and call him a god, but, you know, what you said worked."
"Did Fenton practice that speech?" I asked.
"The one about his upbringing and focus or the one about how to treat women?" Kev asked.
"Either, both. Wait, have you heard them both from him before?" I asked. My hand trembled as I picked up my drink.
"Fenton has spoken out against domestic violence, but he normally doesn't talk about his family life," Kev said.
I slumped into my stool. "Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."
"Come on, Kya. It’s like I told you; it's all part of the show."
" I thought you meant his reputation, not our relationship," I said.
"Well, they might both have a ways to go. That doesn't mean you won't get there. Sandi thinks you'll make it," Kev said.
"Excuse me, Ms. Allen? I'm a reporter for the Desert Post and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," a slim, young man asked. He fidgeted foot to foot but looked me straight in the eye.
Kev handed him a business card. "No problem, kid, as long as you send your article to me before publishing. I'll vet the quotes, dot the Ts, that kind of thing."
The young man smiled, unsure if Kev was serious or not. He took the card, and Kev shifted over a bar stool to give him room.
"I'm sorry, I'm not doing interviews if that's what you think this is," I said.
"Sure you are," Kev said. "Just answer the kid's questions. It’s not hard and, who knows, it might be good for Fenton."
"How long have you known Fenton Morris?" he asked.
"A few days," I said. It was hard to believe because it felt like much longer.
"Have you always been attracted to 'bad boys’? Or was it Fenton that approached you."
"Fenton approached me first." I took a long sip of my drink to cover my smile.
"And, do you feel threatened by his womanizing ways, his drinking, or his violent tendencies?" the young man asked. He was concentrating on holding his phone at the right angle to record my answer and did not notice the look on my face.
"Those are all grossly exaggerated. Fenton Morris is a gentleman, an athlete, and a professional. You've got him all wrong and if you try to pursue this sensationalized direction any further, you will be getting close to slander," I said.
"So, you're saying everything the public knows about Fenton Morris is an act?"
"It’s a natural extension of what his fans want," Aldous said. He towered over the young reporter and frowned down at him. "As his long-time coach and advisor, I can assure you that everything Ms. Allen has said is the truth."