Page 75 of Saving Pookie

Thank God he's not a fighter because his form is awful.

As we return from the break, the audience erupts in applause, hungry for more blood. I sit in a rather comfortable position on the couch, my arms stretched out along the back on either side—one behind Pookie and the other behind Dixon.

Mr. Pink cups his chin with one hand, massaging his thumb and pointer finger through his beard. He stares straight ahead, somewhere out in the audience, unfocused and, if I had to guess, still reeling from the earlier revelations. For his part, Talon has slipped into the shadows.

Matty, ever the shit-stirring host, gets straight to work. "Braxton, we have a lot to talk about."

I choke on a gulp. That whole ready to fightthing goes straight out the window.

Matty picks up a cue card and waves it in front of his face. "We got a lot of questions about you and Tamra. Vicki from Maine wants to know more about your relationship prior to filming. Was it always this strained?"

An easy enough question, but I recognize it's most likely a softball to butter me up before bludgeoning me over the head with a gavel. "I don't want to dig too far into the past, but unfortunately, the cameras picked up right at the end of our relationship."

"Tell the truth, Braxton."

I swallow nervously. So much for waiting until next season. I narrow my gaze at her, warning that I won't fight fair.

"It's always been strained," she says, looking directly at the host. "Sometimes, couples don't work out for this reason or that, and unfortunately, it was simply the end of the road for us."

"Right..." Matty's declaration is drawn out. "But you did cheat on him, correct? Surely, that would be the end of most relationships."

I can't help but snicker under my breath, but immediately fix my face when I catch her glaring. I tuck my face away behind Dixon and proceed with my enjoyment of her being raked over the coals.

"I regret my decisions," Tamra says, choking on her words. Razzie Award-worthy fake tears. "I was going through a lot behind the scenes, and I made a bad decision, but ultimately, I believe us parting ways was for the best."

"I agree." I pass her a sideways glance. "Funnily enough, I think we're both in a much better place."

Matty cocks his head sideways, an amused expression creeping over his gossip-obsessed lips. "But she did accuse you of being a drug addict, or at least strongly implied it. Between the cheating and the accusations, surely there must be some kind of bad blood?"

Tamra juts forward in her seat and raises a pointed finger. "I never actually accused him of doing drugs."

Matty sighs and tosses the stack of cue cards onto the stand beside him. "What are we doing here if we're not going to be honest?"

Tamra smiles widely, exposing all her teeth. "I don't know what you mean."

Matty twirls his fingers in the air. "Roll the tape."

The room darkens as footage begins to roll. Tamra and I are in the dressing room at Mr. Pink's. I remember the scene all too well—Tamra has just asked me if I'm on drugs because of my behavior. Then I lean into her ear, clearly not understanding just how strong the microphones are.

My voice is a dry rumble, "I know what you're doing. You're not going to turn this into a storyline. Do you understand me? I'll burn us all to the ground before I take the fall."

The screen goes black, and a satisfied smirk passes over Matty's lips. "That's pretty damning, I'd say."

I look at Pookie to my left, powerless to help me. I look at Dixon to my right. Then to Tamra, and finally straight into the camera. There's no getting out of this. The decision to film a live reunion is making a lot more sense because I'm more certain than ever before the whole thing is a fucking setup.

Finally, I settle on a lie that comes out like razors on the back of my throat, "We all smoke marijuana."

"Braxton..." Matty shakes his head with a quiet laugh. "Do you have a problem with the truth?"

Before I can respond, another clip begins to play. The camera is zoomed in on the bathroom door in Maverick's penthouse. About fifteen seconds into the clip, the door opens. I leave the bathroom first, scrubbing a finger beneath my nose, and Dixon follows right after. Tamra's voice begins to play over the footage before cutting to a confessional of her sitting alone in front of the camera.

"I saw Braxton and Pookie out last night," she says, her legs crossed.

Talon prods her out of frame, "Did you notice anything off about him?"

She clears her throat before answering, "He was higher than a kite, dancing with Pookie."

I freeze in place as the screen fades to black. A chorus of gasps from the audience sends me spiraling into a pitch-black void. This was supposed to be fun. It's no consolation, but at least there's remorse written all over Tamra's face. A dark cloud of regret in her eyes about the words she can't take back.