by M. E. Carter
“You dated Darcey Janes?” she yelled, turning her entire body toward me. “She’s so beautiful!”
I shrugged. “No more beautiful than anyone else.” Darcey was a runway model who did most of her work in New York. She had quite a few famous spreads in different magazines. She’s was also an extremely high-maintenance diva. Not my style at all.
“How can you say that? She’s one of the most beautiful women in America.”
“Babe,” I said seriously. “She’s no different than any other woman. Believe me, I’ve seen her without all her make up on and her hair done up. Sure, she’s pretty. But she doesn’t look the same as in the magazines.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said crossing her arms.
I smirked at the fact that she kept arguing with me. “I’m serious. There are only two differences between a runway model and an everyday woman.”
“Go on.”
“A real woman actually eats.” She chuckled at that statement. “And a real woman doesn’t have daily access to a hair stylist, makeup artist, manicurist, clothing stylist, personal trainer, personal chef and maid. Because that’s how many people it takes to create the image that is Darcey Janes.”
“Must be nice to have all those people at your beck and call,” she muttered under her breath.
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But it’s also a lot of work having those people around all the time. When people are constantly in and out, there is no privacy. It’s one of the huge reasons she and I only dated a short time.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Different priorities. I wanted a simple life and she wanted the glamour,” I shrugged. “It is what it is, I guess.”
“So then why not just pick up women at . . . I don’t know . . . the grocery store or something?” she asked, waving her hand my direction.
“And what?” I said with a chuckle. “Spout off lines like, ‘Can I squeeze your melons?’“
“Shut up,” she said with a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”
I thought for a minute and chose my words carefully. “I think what was . . . was,” I said, making sure she understood clearly that we were talking past tense, “so appealing about dating a celebrity was they didn’t care about the fame because they already had it.” I shrugged. “So I never worried if a conversation we had was going to be sold to the highest bidder. I never woke up wondering if whomever I was dating was going to do an interview behind my back, telling the whole world that I fart in my sleep or something.”
“You don’t fart in your sleep,” she interrupted.
“Good to know. My point is,” I said, glancing at her with a grin, “in the past, there was some safety in the fact that she, whoever she was at the time, didn’t want intimate details released to the public any more than I did. Celebrities typically keep their mouths shut about other celebrities.”
I glanced over my shoulder as I changed lanes, catching a glimpse of her looking deep in thought.
“What?” I asked her. “Why did you get quiet?”
“I was just thinking,” she said. “So how do you know I’m not going to sell some sleazy story about you to the highest bidder?”
I grinned and looked over at her. “I don’t. But if you’re just with me because you want to sell me out, the last thing I’d be worrying about is my reputation. I’d be too busy nursing a broken heart.”
She snorted. “You’re such a charmer.”
I reached over and grabbed her thigh, squeezing it softly. “Only for you, babe. Only for you.”
We drove in a comfortable silence until we got into Addison’s neighborhood, when we were greeted by news crews parked everywhere.
“Oh shit,” I muttered under my breath.
“What the hell is this, Jason?” she asked. I could hear the panic in her voice as she leaned forward in her seat, looking more closely.
Before we made it close enough for anyone to realize it was us, I hung a left to make a giant u-turn around the neighborhood.
“Babe, do you have a key to the back door?” I asked calmly, knowing she was about this close to freaking out.
“Yes,” she answered. “But what’s going on? Is this because of the gala? Is this . . . why are they interested in us so much?”
“Ok, so apparently one of the reporters did some digging on you last night and figured all of us out.”
“Who is all of us?” she asked, her voice starting to raise as she got more hyped up. “Jaxon? Did they figure out about Jaxon?”
“They figured out all of it. You, me, Jaxon, Austin . . . everything.”
Her head fell into her hands. “No, no, no . . . this is what I didn’t want to happen.”
“I know, baby,” I said, rubbing her back as I drove with the other hand. “I was trying to avoid this, too. I really didn’t expect them to put it all together. We’ll get it worked out. I promise.”
“I’m not worried about me, Jason,” she said, looking up. Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t want this for Jaxon. It’s . . . it’s too much.”
“Babe . . . ,” I said gently, “Jaxon will be fine. He’ll get a kick out of seeing the lights and the cameras. You know he will. It’s you I’m worried about. Just breathe, ok? This will blow over once something interesting happens to someone else, I promise.”
I finished the circle I had been driving in and made my way back to her street.
“When we get there,” I said, “I’m pulling up as far as I can in the driveway and we’re going in the back door. They can get as many pictures as they want if they are standing on public property. But they can’t step foot up on that curb. If they do, we call the cops for trespassing.”
I saw her nod in response out of the corner of my eye.
When I turned into the driveway, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the cameras coming in our direction. They were smart, though. None of them stepped on her property. But I knew they were filming. I pulled up right behind Mick, as far as I could.
“The cameras are rolling so don’t say anything,” I instructed as I put the car into park. “Don’t look at them. Don’t answer any questions. Just keep your head down and walk into the house.”
She nodded again and adjusted her sunglasses on her face, digging for her keys in her purse. I grabbed her bag from the back seat so I wouldn’t have to get it once we got out.
“Ok, let’s go.”
We opened our car doors at the same time and made our way to her house. We could hear the reporters yelling questions in our direction, but they were far enough down the driveway, we couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Within seconds we were inside the house and face-to-face with Mick.
“What the hell is going on out there?” he asked. He had his hands on his hips and a truly confused look on his face. “We drove up and didn’t even get out of the car before all these people started shouting questions at us. Jaxon was so entertained I could hardly get him in the door.”
On cue, I heard Jaxon yell from the front of the house, “Mom! Jason! Come look at all the news vans! One of them has a big satellite on top of it!”
I turned to Addison and smirked hopefully. “See? I told you he’d be fine with it.”
She rolled her eyes and made her way over to the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of eggs. I guess all the media attention didn’t deter from her plans to make us brunch.
“How long is this going to last, Jason?” she asked as she cracked eggs into a bowl. She was moving frantically. I knew she was anxious about all this and I wanted to ease her concerns. It wasn’t that she was afraid for her safety. Or worried that Jaxon would be traumatized. She just didn’t do well being the center of attention. It made her nervous and uncomfortable. The gala was one thing . . . she had mentally prepared for it. But there was no way to mentally prepare for people to stake out your house.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’m assuming people are curious right now because of you being a single mom, a widow at that.”<
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Mick sat down at the kitchen barstool, watching Addison work. “So what does she do in the meantime?” Mick asked. “She can’t exactly take Jaxon out of the house with all those people out front.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what the protocol is for this. I’ve lived in an apartment with good security since I could afford it, and only dated people who could afford security, too.”
“Do we need to get security?” Mick asked with concern written all over his face.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But I’ve already offered it to the school since that’s public property.”
I jumped when Addison slammed the frying pan onto the stove and began mixing the eggs furiously. I walked up behind her and grabbed her hands, stopping her from mixing and taking the bowl away from her. Once I had put it on the counter, I laced my fingers through hers and wrapped my arms around her.
“Tell me what part of this is freaking you out so much,” I said quietly in her ear. “I know all of it . . . but what specifically?”
“I don’t know, Jason,” she said, leaning her head back on my shoulder for support. “I don’t know. I don’t like the attention. I don’t want the looks of pity. Or even looks of contempt because I know those are coming, too. I don’t want to worry that every move we make will end up on the news. I’m just . . . I like living a quiet life. I’ve had too much drama.” She sighed deeply. “I just don’t want any more drama.”
“Ok. I get it,” I said, rubbing my hands up and down her arms. “Let’s make this as drama-free as we can, ok?”
“How?” she asked, slowly starting to relax in my arms. I reached over and turned the stove off.
“I think the first thing we should do is get Adam and Judy on the phone.”
“Who’s Judy?” she asked quietly as her body finally settled down.
“Judy is the team publicist,” I said. “Any time there is a crisis or big event happening with the team, she’s the one who puts out all the press releases and statements. She figures out what we’re going to say to the media and the best way for it to be said.”
“Can she figure out a nice way to say, ‘Get the hell off my lawn’?”
I chuckled. “Probably. Come on,” I said, leading her over to the living room and sitting her on the couch. “I’ll put the call on speaker phone so you can be involved in the whole thing.”
“You guys get that taken care of,” Mick said, getting up off the barstool. “I’ll hang out with Jax and make sure he doesn’t interrupt. I’ll feel better, too, once we know how to handle all this.”
Adam answered after the first ring and was able to conference Judy into the call. Both of them had already anticipated the media frenzy, but neither of them had expected the information about Addison and Jaxon to come out the way it did.
We spent the next forty-five minutes coming up with a statement and a plan of action that made everyone happy. The press release would be sent out by Judy’s office within a couple of hours and would include one of the pictures we had taken at last night’s gala. It would state that Addison and I had met a few months ago after a pep rally at her son’s school and we had been seeing each other since. With Mick’s permission, we also included a quote from me saying, “You’ve probably seen Addison’s father-in-law at some of my games. He’s a great guy. We have a lot of fun together.” It was a little manipulative. But we were hoping that statement would show that we had Austin’s family’s blessings, despite how recent his passing was.
In the meantime, Jaxon would have to miss a couple days of school. We couldn’t guarantee the paparazzi wasn’t going to stake out his school and until we knew for sure, none of us felt comfortable letting him go. Same thing went for Addison’s work. We needed a couple days to assess exactly how strong all the interest in our story was before we could send everyone on their merry way. I was the only one of us that would continue with my schedule as normal. I didn’t like the idea of leaving them at the house alone, but Mick agreed to stay over for a few days, which made me feel better. And Adam reminded me that as long as I was here, there was a story. The sooner I left, the sooner the reporters did, too.
Finally, since everyone was clamoring to get to know her and Jaxon a little better, we’d let them. In a very, very controlled fashion. That meant Addison and Jaxon would be coming to my next home game . . . tomorrow night.
At first, Addison resisted the idea. But Judy reminded her that she wasn’t the average “new girlfriend of a player.” She was a recent widow, which made our relationship a “sensational” news story. It also meant the more mysterious she was, the more people would speculate what she was really like. And speculation just led to more curiosity. By attending the game, people could take as many pictures as they wanted of her and Jaxon. They could see she was just a normal mom raising a normal son. Yes, they would still analyze her hair and her clothes and what that look on her face meant. But analyzing from across the stadium was much different than analyzing from outside her front door.
Adam promised Addison he would send a car to pick her and Jaxon up and that security would walk them all the way to their seats and back. Any time Jaxon had to use the bathroom, security would go with them. Get hungry? Security goes with them. Want to leave early? Security goes with them.
Addison reluctantly agreed when Jax overheard and came running into the room, excited about going to a game on a school night.
So the plan of action was set in motion and I hoped it would make Addison feel more confident in her new role of “football player’s girlfriend”. As I got ready to leave, I tried to reassure her one more time that everyone would leave her alone soon. And that once they found out she was just as “boring” as she kept saying she was (her word, not mine), things would get back to normal. She tried smiling at me, but I could see she was still uncomfortable.
Jaxon merely waved over his shoulder when I went to head out the back door, still too excited by all the chaos outside. I was starting to wonder what kind of video they had of this little boy peeking out his front window for hours on end.
As I closed the back door behind me, I made my way down the driveway, past my car and straight to the reporters. Judy had given me the ok to answer a few questions about football. It was part of my job. But I was also hoping once they talked to me, it would help satisfy their appetite for a story.
“Jason, is it true Addison Bryant’s husband was killed in a mysterious car accident?”
“How do you get along with her son?”
“Jason, when are you going to pop the question?”
Man. They had no conscience about the questions they asked, did they?
“Hey guys,” I started, trying to stay calmer than I felt on the inside. “I see you figured out where Addison lives.” There were a few chuckles from my audience. “We’re so flattered you guys find our story interesting. That’s really nice. But I am asking, as a personal favor to me, that you be respectful of the fact that a child lives here.”
“We know. He’s been peeking through that window all day,” someone replied.
I chuckled. “Yeah. That sounds about right. He is quite intrigued by all your equipment. I don’t know whose satellite truck that is, but he thinks that is the coolest thing ever.”
“Jason, there has been some speculation that you and Addison began dating before her husband died. What is your response to that?”
That is exactly the kind of rumor Addison was worried about. As much as I wanted to deck the big-nosed dude that asked me the question, I stayed cool. I didn’t want to make things worse.
“I would say that is a ridiculous speculation since we only met a couple months ago. You guys can expect a press release soon with a little more information. In the meantime, we have a game coming up tomorrow night if you have any questions about football.”
I was only asked a couple questions about the game, which is exactly what I expected. No one was here because they thought I would be. But it still seemed like a nice compromise . . .
give the reporters a little and they back off a little.
At this point, I’d take what I could get.
Me: How’s it going so far today?
I hit send on my text to Addison and sat on the bench of the locker room, waiting for a response.
I had stayed up late last night watching all the news reports and internet updates to see if any more intrusive stories popped up. So far, with the exception of the one article and the media in the street, things were pretty quiet. But I still wanted to make sure.
Addison: There are still a couple people out there. Mostly it’s before the news starts when they are doing a live shot.
Me: Good. I’ve been worried.
Addison: ;) You’re sweet. I’m really glad Judy put that picture in the press release. I looked hot!
I chuckled.
Me: Yes, yes you were. And yes you are. Gotta go, babe. Pre-game meetings and interviews. See you at the game?
Addison: I’ll be wearing your number.
I smiled at the thought as I turned off my phone, put it in my locker and shut the door, ready to go to work.
Two hours later, we were on the field warming up and getting revved up for the game. Deuce was always really energetic before we played. Ran around like a fool talking to people, cracking jokes, meeting fans. Me? I had to get in the zone. Block everything else out. I didn’t think about anything or anyone except football.
Tonight was a small exception. It was the first time Addison was going to be here in the stadium during one of my games and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t excite me a little bit. So while I stayed in my football zone, I allowed myself to glance at the reserved seating area every once in a while. Just to see if they were here yet. I knew they’d probably come in a little late to avoid the crowd, but I was still anxious to see my girl, and my buddy, wearing my jersey and cheering me on.
“You ready for tonight?” Deuce asked as he jogged over to me with his normal pre-game bounce. “Monday Night Football, baby!”
“Yep,” I answered shortly, tossing the ball back to Dean McKenna, one of our practice team members.