Page 76 of Reality With You (Arden Beach #1)
SUSPECT FOUND GUILTY OF DRUGGING BASEBALL STAR DYLAN STRICKLAND
Last month, Star Surge obtained an EXPLOSIVE audio clip from an anonymous source of socialite Kelsey McCroy and supermodel Tana Cordova allegedly talking about baseball star Dylan Strickland’s drink getting spiked at a party.
They were both filming a reality show in Arden Beach, Florida, that’s streaming this winter on Versal.
An investigation led to the arrest of Jeremy Miller, a model working at the party as a “host” going by the name Alexei, who was found guilty this morning on drug charges.
In the audio, Kelsey can be heard bragging about taking advantage of the opportunity to make the Tidebreakers pitcher’s ex-wife, Lennon Young (also present at the party), jealous, and coercing him into taking some “deal.” Yikes.
Kelsey McCroy is the daughter of Huey Donaldson, one of the producers of Arden Elite at High Wave Productions.
After the audio leak, she was dropped by her management company and her first feature film role was cut from a movie slated for release next summer.
Since the leak went viral, she hasn’t been seen in public, except for a court appearance as a witness in Jeremy’s case.
Can’t say we blame her. Social media has been rallying behind Dylan and crucifying Kelsey, especially after he recently took medical leave from the Tidebreakers and publicly opened up about his mental health struggles.
Tana has also been off the radar after she was forced to sell her stake in her popular skincare and beauty line when consumers called for a boycott of the company in response to the audio leak.
All parties involved have declined to comment on the scandal. Guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens when Arden Elite premieres in January. We know we’ll be glued to our TVs!
“So, they’re taking the silent approach and using it to stoke interest in the show,” Harold mused, reading the article on his phone. The journalist glanced across the table at Lennon and Dylan over the rim of his glasses. “‘Any press is good press,’ or so the saying goes.”
They sat in a secluded booth at Merritt’s Steakhouse, black and white photographs of Dylan’s grandfather watching over the table.
“When you know how to spin it,” Lennon said as she lifted a cup of cappuccino to her lips.
Harold hummed a sound of agreement. He studied them both. Putting down his phone, Harold’s expression grew serious under the dim light. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he told Dylan. “I’ll be honest, though, I’m surprised you finally called me. What made you decide to let me tell your story?”
“That’s not why we called. We’re done letting other people tell our story.
But we know you’re open to suggestions,” Dylan remarked, alluding to Harold that they knew about his connection with Nolan.
The journalist’s mouth quirked up in the corner, a guilty but remorseless glimmer in his eyes.
Dylan’s gaze shifted darkly. “I hear you’re not a big fan of Huey Donaldson. ”
Harold raised a wiry eyebrow at Lennon, seemingly impressed she’d picked up on that at the gala.
“We go back a bit. I’ve … heard things, but I’ve never been able to get people to talk on the record because of his ironclad NDAs.
He hands them out like candy. Scares people off.
” He measured them, as if noticing a missing puzzle piece.
“Which I’d imagine you signed, as well.”
Lennon lowered her cup to the table. The soft music from a Spanish guitar drifted between them as the energy in the air shifted, taut like the instrument’s strings.
“I had an off-camera conversation with Kelsey—after the wedding,” Dylan said. “My lawyers said it would be hard to prove a blackmail case. It’d be easier to fight the defamation clause in my NDA.”
Harold’s eyes sharpened, more with intrigue than surprise. “The ‘deal’ she spoke about in the recording?” Harold clarified, to which Dylan gave an affirmative nod. “One I’ll bet she wasn’t planning to facilitate by herself?”
Dylan didn’t directly answer, but he didn’t need to. His eyes said enough. Harold blew a gust of air through his lips, sitting back. The gears turned. They were offering him a much bigger fish.
“If I give you enough to build a story from, do you think you could get others to come forward with their experiences?” Dylan questioned.
Harold rocked his head, tapping a finger on the table. “Depends. Sometimes, it only takes one to open the floodgates. But they still may be too afraid of the repercussions. Most don’t have the resources you have.”
“They may be protected under loopholes and not be aware of it. Especially if anything illegal occurred,” Dylan pointed out.
“With your story bolstering its credibility, I can probably get away with some of the others remaining anonymous.” Harold rolled his forefinger and thumb together beside his plate of half-eaten crab cakes, his gaze lost somewhere in the table’s dark, polished wood as he appeared to contemplate it.
Dylan released a humorous breath. “Nice to be thought of as credible again.”
It was wild how quickly the tides of public opinion had turned back in his favor. Everyone was rallying around him. It was a nice change of pace, but they knew not to get too comfortable. The show hadn’t come out yet, and they had no idea how Huey was planning to spin things in the edit.
Lennon dropped her head to the side, watching Harold.
“Don’t you think it’s strange one of the employees at the party is the person who spiked some of the drinks, even knowing it was all on camera?
Almost like he knew he’d be protected. Alexei …
or Jeremy, whatever the hell his name is, had a pretty expensive lawyer who miraculously helped him avoid a lot of jail time.
And now, his mugshot’s gone viral because of how good he looks in it.
Who wants to bet he ends up with his own reality show? ”
“You’d think the public would be condemning him as much as Kelsey,” Dylan remarked with disgust.
“People are always more enthusiastic about hating a woman.” Harold casually tossed out the observation, but it stuck with Lennon.
With the audio leak, the public was firmly on Dylan’s and Lennon’s side, but would that all be forgotten once the show aired?
Their goodwill was fickle. It all hinged on the edit the show gave her.
Huey would be working overtime to sway viewers back in Kelsey’s favor, so Lennon didn’t imagine their plan to give Lennon the “villain edit” had been abandoned.
In fact, it would probably be worse now.
Their only hope was to expose the entire corrupt operation, so the public didn’t forget so easily.
The weight of Dylan’s hand came to rest on her thigh under the table. She found him watching her with some concern, apparently sensing the tension in her body. She sent him a soft smile of reassurance, placing her hand on his. He spread his fingers so she could thread hers between them.
“You said you care about the truth,” Lennon reminded Harold, turning back to him. “Time to put on your big boy investigative journalist pants and figure out a way to expose this asshole.”
The corner of Harold’s mouth gently arched before a genuine laugh rumbled out of him. “Man, they didn’t know what they were in for when they cast you.”
Lennon smiled. “When we’re done here, I hope they rue the day they did.”
Harold pulled a crumpled notepad from his tweed jacket, clicking the tip of the ballpoint pen he’d unhooked from the spiral binding. “You’ve finally learned how the game works.”
“We know it’s not over yet,” Lennon said. “We’re going to hit them with all we’ve got in this last inning.”
Dylan’s brows raised slightly. “Good baseball metaphor, baby. Perfect cheese to symbolism ratio.”
“Thank you.”
Harold glanced at the two of them before gently shaking his head, dropping his attention back to the notepad as he scribbled something in it. “Oh, to be young and in love,” he mumbled. “Hope you guys are ready for what’s coming. They’re not going down without a fight.”
Dylan squeezed Lennon’s fingers, and she met his steadfast gaze. The message in his deep brown eyes was clear: I’m with you. Completely.
For the first time, she felt a strange sense of calm instead of a charge of anxiety over what the future held. A storm was coming, but they were prepared now. And they’d face the aftermath. Together.
Lennon squeezed his hand back. “Neither are we.”