You cut in. “There is a set of photographs that haven’t been seen by the public,” you say. “They were taken by a paparazzo outside a restaurant in Miami last year. GoGo threw a water bottle at the photographer and broke his camera after having a fight with Gabi and pushing her. I paid the kid for the memory card and turned the photos in to the police anonymously.” Frowning a bit, you lift slightly off your seat and pull a tiny plastic container from your back pocket. “This is the memory card in question. It’s never been altered, doctored, or tampered with, and I am willing to submit to any forensic investigation asked of me to prove that point.”
“So, GoGo knew that you had to be the source of the photos?” Ariel said. “And you said that Kaius was involved?”
“Yes.” You fold your hands. “GoGo and Kai were involved in an altercation in the Cyclones' locker room on the first day of mini-camp last summer. It was the first time Kai had seen GoGo since GoGo got arrested for hitting Gabi, and GoGo made some incendiary comments. I can’t speak for Kai, obviously, other than to say that I know he is not proud of his actions.”
“GoGo was so, so mad,” Gabi says. “He told me that Sterling Grayson didn’t know who he was messing with, and that he was going to take him down. He constructed a whole story about Sterling planting evidence and made himself seem innocent. Hepainted the picture like Sterling was using all his star power to ruin GoGo’s life, when, really, he fully wanted to ruin Sterling’s.”
“And he got you to go along with this?” Ariel prods gently.
Gabi looks like she’s going to cry again. “He did, yes. He had already hurt me for the first time at that point, and I was terrified of what he’d do if I didn’t go along with what he said. And I loved him so much. I wanted to please him, and it was so hard. He said that we were engaged, and that I had too much loyalty to Sterling. It was some kind of test for him, I think. He had a lot of those.”
“Tests?” Ariel repeats.
“Yeah. Would I eat lobster at dinner, even though I don’t like seafood? Would I wear a dress that made me uncomfortable? Would I let him pick out the paint for our bedroom, even though I hated the color? Would I be intimate with him, even though I was on my period and feeling lousy? Would I lie about Sterling? Everything was a test of my loyalty. If I made him happy, he’d treat me well. But if I made him mad, he’d get ugly. And I never knew what was going to make him mad. But people say that relationships are about compromise, so I told myself I was just being flexible. Being a good fiancée, and then wife.”
“What was your breaking point?” Ariel asks.
“When that girl from Kansas City told me she was pregnant,” Gabi says quietly. “She did me the decency of calling me as soon as she found out. Which means that I knew a long time before the media did. She told me that GoGo was pressuring her to abort, and had given her a lot of money with the understanding that she would. After we talked, I did some research. I tracked down two other women in Texas, where GoGo came up, who hadbeen paid off to hide his children. When we got married, he told me he wanted us to have a bunch of kids. At least four or five. At the time, he was actually pressuring me hard to take out my IUD. I said to myself, what kind of man did I marry? Someone who would…” Her breath catches. She takes a deep breath and composes herself. “Someone who would have babies and then pretend they didn’t exist?”
“And that’s when you reached out to Sterling?” Ariel ventures.
“I had to go through my mom,” Gabi says. “And even then, I had to be super careful. GoGo liked to check my phone, and he always managed to be around when I was talking to someone. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure he was tracking my calls and texts. He’d made me block Sterling a long time ago. But I reconnected with him through my mom. He was like a guardian angel. He sent me burner phones, he got his whole legal team involved, and he helped set up a plan. All totally silent, all behind the scenes. Very tactical. His people covered all the bases.”
Ariel tilts her head. “Why Sterling?”
Gabi laughs weakly. “Sterling’s a good friend to have,” she explains. “Not only is he one of the most loyal people I know, but he has resources that nobody else has. He was the only person I felt comfortable trusting with my safety.”
“You really think it was that dire? Your actualsafety?”
The words make Gabi wring her hands a little bit. There’s still an indent on her left ring finger where GoGo’s massive diamond used to be. She must have taken it off very, very recently.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “Sometimes, I convince myself that I blew this all out of proportion. That GoGo loves me, you know? But I’ve been seeing a therapist, and she tells me that violentmen tend to escalate. There were signs…” She pauses, glancing downward. “There were things he did to me that she says were huge red flags for future escalation. That, if he got mad enough, he could really hurt me. He used to tell me that he was nothing without me, and that he’d die if I ever left him. But that’s a manipulation tactic, too. I can see so much now. I’m outside it.”
Ariel turns her gaze in your direction.
“Talk to us a little bit about all this, Sterling,” she urges you. “You’ve had a very rough time these past several months. You got cancelled on social media. You had a mob of people throw rocks at your house. A stalker kidnapped your dog. Lots of loud, ugly voices cheering your downfall. What has this all been like for you?”
You planned for this question. You planned for all of them, but you especially had to think about how you wanted to address the scope of your situation without sounding like a victim. Not only to keep the spotlight on Gabi, where it belonged, but also so that you didn’t give haters any reason to think that they’d successfully gotten under your skin. That much didn’t have to do with your PR team—it was your own insistence.
“You know, these things happen when you have the job I do,” you demur. “Nobody likes reading bad things about themselves in the press or dealing with stressful situations. But I have a great support team and the best fans in the world. I always knew who had my back. It was a hard period in my life, but this story isn’t about me. It’s about Gabi and her tremendous bravery and resilience, and her commitment to helping other women in her position.”
There. You gave Ariel the perfect opening. She turns back to Gabi.
“Yes!” Ariel says. “I’m told, Gabi, that you have started a foundation for women trying to escape domestic violence?”
“I have,” Gabi confirms. “Gabi’s Girls is a non-profit organization for cisgender and trans women trapped in the cycle of DV. We’re providing outreach resources, counseling, and clothing closets. I’m hoping that we can break ground on our first shelter by the end of the new year.”
“All our proceeds from this interview will go towards Gabi’s Girls,” you add. “And, in February, I’ll be releasing a signed 7-inch exclusive vinyl edition of ‘rocksteady,’ my fourth single from ‘Golden.’ I’ve also pledged all the profits from that project to the shelter fund. I told Gabi that I know our fans can help us gettwoshelters built by the end of 2026. There’s a donation link in all our social media bios.”
“I love that,” Ariel enthuses. “I’ve been looking for the right use for my Christmas bonus, and I think I just found it.”
There’s a bit more to the interview, and a lot of hugging and crying. Watching it a few days later is a weird experience. Beside you on the couch in your Miami home, Kai squeezes your thigh. When he opens his mouth to speak, his voice is rough.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he says. “You did really good.”
You shrug. “I wasn’t thinking about doing good,” you admit. “I was just trying to help Gabi. I’m glad it worked out. There were a lot of moments where I thought it wouldn’t.”
Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the living room, Miami is unusually cold on this, the first night in January. You finally had a chance to light a fire in your hearth. In the kitchen, Kai’s dinner is simmering: Hoppin’ John, rice, greens, and cornbread, a meal that is supposed to bring luck for the NewYear. Not being from the South, it’s an unaccustomed tradition for you, but you’ll take all the good fortune you can get. Before you two can eat dinner, you’ll have to relocate the gorgeous Tiffany blue restored 1950s Brother typewriter he got you for Christmas to draft songs on.
