Felix

Chapter 1

One year later

Felix

"I'm not going to jail. I didn't kill anyone. I paid for the damag—"

"You're missing the goddamned point!" Preston Styles, Felix's current publicist, threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Well then, enlightening me, Preston!" Felix yelled right back. "Because you're acting like this is the fucking end of the world and it's not."

"You hired me not just to help manage your career but to do damage control with the mess you and Andy made of it. And ever since, all you've done is continue to go downhill. It's almost as if you're trying to ruin your career."

"Oh yeah? And what career would that be, huh? My boxing career? Because I think we can both agree that ship has sailed. I'm just trying to enjoy my life now."

"How? By getting drunk every night and partying 'til you pass out? By starting brawls and beating the shit outta every nobody that calls you a has-been?" Preston followed Felix into the next room of his penthouse suite. "You're not washed up, Felix. But if you keep treating your body the way you have been this past year—staying up every night, fucking every girl who throws herself at you, and partying up for days—you will be. Hell, even your dick's gotta say I've had enough sooner or later."

Felix laughed, taking a swig of his glass of bourbon. "Not a chance."

"You don't think so?" Preston asked as adamantly as only his obstinate ass could. "You don't think one of these days or nights you're not gonna stick that thing in the wrong whore and it won't ever be the same again or that all those fucking cigarettes you smoke and drugs you take won't make you go limp sooner or later?"

"I don't do drugs anymore," Felix snapped, setting his glass down and pulling out a smoke.

"Yeah, well, drinking that hard shit and starting your chain smoking at seven in the morning isn't much better."

"Look—"

"No, you listen to me," Preston said with conviction. "This isn't just about you anymore, okay? I know you think the world revolves around your pretentious ass, but I have a reputation to keep up too. You may not care about your career anymore, but I care about mine. Potential clients are watching, and when I took this job, the deal was you'd listen to what I had to say. You'd do whatever I decided was in your best interest, and so far, you've done neither. If I walk away now, I won't be losing much. Do you really think anyone would blame me? So I couldn't clean up Felix Sanchez's sorry ass. You'll just look like the pathetic lost cause that everybody said even "The Great Preston Styles" couldn't fix. But if you expect me to stick around and not just cut my losses now, you need to get your head out of your ass, slow things down, and start listening to what I have to say, or I'm out."

Felix stared out of his hotel window at the Vegas strip below and took a deep breath. He had known this was coming and had since decided what he'd do the day Preston made him choose between him and the freedom to live his life as he wanted to.

Did this guy actually expect Felix to answer to his ass? Felix was paying him a small fortune to be his publicist and do damage control, not to run his life.

He chuckled now at the guy's ridiculousness. Who called himself "The Great"? Preston Styles that's who.

"What's it gonna be, Sanchez? Because believe it or not I have other clients I need to tend to. I don't have time to be dealing with your bullshit twenty-four seven."

Felix turned around slowly and took a drag of his cigarette. Letting out a slow stream of smoke from the corner of his lips, he glanced up at Preston. "Get the fuck out."