“No? And the accusations you were doing drugs with him?” My mouth tightened, and I took a deep breath.
“Is Harry Ireland out there?” I inquired, lifting my head. Mick looked surprised.
“The reporter? Yes, Harry’s out there. Chey, are you sure you want him?”
“Yeah, Harry and I may have butted heads in the past, but he’s always reported the truth. Can you get him?” I asked. Mick hesitated and then nodded before walking away. I was still sitting on the ground when Harry strolled around the corner. Harry’s sharp eyes took in the cigarettes, and the one I was smoking, and Harry sat beside me.
“Chey.”
“Harry.”
“What can I do?”
“How about reporting the truth? I’ll give you and only you a statement,” I offered. Harry’s face appeared puzzled as he contemplated my words.
“But it was a drug overdose,” Harry finally said.
“Nope. How about cancer?” I asked, and Harry looked shocked.
“Start talking, Cheyenne.”
???
‘Kye Knight drugs overdose scandal!’ ‘Kye overdoses while partying with Cheyenne.’ ‘Lead singer heading towards rehab again.’ ‘Kye Knight discovered dead in bed through cocaine overdose.’ The following morning, I dug through the papers and finally found Harry’s article. I smiled at his headline. ‘Kye Knight, and the truth. Cancer.’ Well, that was eye-catching. I stared at a shot of Kye taken six months ago, healthy and laughing on stage. And then a picture next to that from two nights ago, pale, thin and drawn.
‘This reporter talked exclusively to Cheyenne Markham, who candidly spoke about Kye Knight’s recent diagnosis and fight with cancer. While other media reported a drugs overdose, Chey, as she’s fondly known, chatted about Kye’s battle with prostate cancer. She also described her fright at learning that Kye’s medication had been too heavily prescribed. Chey spoke about how the over-prescribed medicine led to Kye having a fit at their motel and ultimately stopped Kye’s heart from beating and her horror at finding him. Kye was resuscitated by the band and a local man.’ I smiled as I read on. Despite our differences, Harry had done an excellent job reporting the truth. A movement on the bed made me glance up, and I saw Kye smiling weakly at me.
“Shit’s out?” Kye asked as I turned the paper and showed it to him.
“The other media went with scandals. Harry reported the facts, given to him by yours truly.” Kye nodded at my words. Kye knew I wouldn’t have blabbed unless necessary.
“Backlash?” Kye demanded.
“Ken arrived early hours and is dealing with it. He is holding a press conference later this afternoon. The band refuses to be present, but I plan to be,” I said with a glint in my eye.
“Oh, you’re going to let rip,” Kye smiled, and I beamed.
“Did the doctors explain everything to you?” I inquired. When I returned, the doctor had briefed Saint, and we’d discovered that Kye’s other oncologist had over-prescribed the medicine. We’d called Ken and lawyers were on the case for medical malpractice.
“Yeah, my doc tried to kill me, right? Shit, he must hate our music,” Kye attempted to be funny, but it fell flat.
“We’re planning to sue the pants off him and make sure he can’t harm anyone else. Another oncologist has been brought in to check his caseload. The hospital is covering their butt, knowing this is going to be high profile.”
“So they should. The next patient might not be so lucky,” Kye growled. “Have you been here all night?”
“Yeah, they attempted to throw me out, but it failed.”
“Jesse?” Kye asked, and my lips tightened.
“Jesse took it hard, but he’s okay now you are. The doctors want to monitor you, and we’ve got high security in place. Reporters have tried sneaking in to snap photos, but they’ve been chased away, the assholes. Spearfish police are also present, so no one can get to you. Jesse is going to come and stay with Johnno for a few hours while I sleep,” I replied.
“Don’t let Jesse see me like this,” Kye whispered, and my heart broke.
“Jesse doesn’t care. All he wants is to be with you. Kye, Jesse saw them carry you out on a gurney. He needs to know his favourite uncle is alive, kicking ass and taking names.” Kye snorted.
“Ain’t doing any of that.”
“You will,” I swore passionately.