by Romi Hart
She struggles not to laugh and has her tongue firmly in cheek. I’m singing like I’m on American Idol. I love the controversy. I soak it in.
“You are so full of it,” she barely says with a big smile on her face.
“Kiddo, I am bulletproof!” I say, smacking my hands together and ready for a touchdown dance. I’m dressed in my t-shirt and shorts and rocking back like a king.
Yeah I do have an ego the size of Jupiter and that’s because I’m motherfucking MVP, the man who they say – who THEY say – brought the Dallas Cowboys back to the Super Bowl. Nobody throws it like I do.”
“Right, so I’ve heard,” she says with a sneer, acting as if she’s above me.
“And it’s like, my throws are so solid it doesn’t matter who catches. A fucking dwarf could catch a ball that I throw. Because I don’t ever throw something that I know can’t land. That’s why we set the record for touchdowns this past season. I know each and every one of my players. I know when I make a good throw. And I know when a person can catch. And if he fumbles, he answers to me. Because I know what a man can catch and what he can’t.”
“Right…”
"And believe me, baby, when I throw my game at a girl, I KNOW what she can catch. And believe this, she's going to take it all. Take it ALL. You hear me? You feel me? Take everything I have coming. Take it all down like a good girl."
Brenda folds her arms and gives me a grump face. “You seem like a man who’s never been humbled.”
"That's because I never lose!" I say ebulliently. "On the field, in the bedroom, and on the mic. Win, win, win! Show me the numbers, baby!"
“Well let’s talk about the things you do OFF the field and OUT of the bedroom, Mister Jiggur. What do you have to say about the recent incident where you were involved in a fistfight outside Ralphy’s Tavern in Dallas?”
“Look,” I say with a smirk, “that whole story was blown out of proportion.”
“Oh really? Multiple scars, big fight broke out between dozens of men and all over a woman?”
“No, no, no, exaggerated. Nothing like that. Yeah I was there. Maybe I drank a little more than usual.”
I laugh heartily, mentally undressing Brenda the foxy reporter with my eyes. She’s acting all superior and professional…but I’ll be tapping that ass by midnight tonight. Every reporter wants a JUICY story to tell off the record, believe that.
"But here's the truth, Brenda. The guy I fought started it. And besides, we made up afterward. It was a misunderstanding, that's all."
“Well from what the press knows about you, you seduce women, you fight men and you don’t seem to give a damn about anyone but yourself.”
“Of course.”
“Of course that’s true? So you’re a narcissist?”
“Yes, in the eyes of the press it’s all true. See, the press, the media all those people don’t care about the truth. No one wants to hear that Nate Jiggur the baddest man in the NFL is a big puppy dog. They want the pit bull. They want the unstoppable force, the womanizing, MVP that sets the world on fire.”
“And you’re saying that’s not the real you?”
“Girl, you don’t even know me. You don’t know the first thing about the REAL ME.”
“Uh huh, well I know one thing. I don’t like to be called ‘girl’!”
I roll my eyes and snicker. Always some hot shot reporter got something to prove. Wants to tame Nate Jiggur and tell the world how she did it. There is NO taming the beast.
“All right…” I sigh. “I admit…I’m not the Nate Jiggur you see on TV. That’s not me.”
“Oh?”
“The truth is…” I lose my smile. “I just play a character for the camera. But the real me is lost. Brooding. Vulnerable.”
I keep my gaze soft as I look at her, my heart breaking. I even got the lower lip protruding. I bet if I could even make a tear roll on cue, if I needed to.
“The truth is I’ve never been in love.” I say staring straight into her soul. “And…and sometimes I wonder if I’m just beyond it. Maybe I’m not built for anything real, you know?”
“Ohhhh,” she swoons. “I knew it. I always suspected it. You’re not the player everyone says you are.”
She gets up and walks forward, eager to comfort me.
“Listen…” I say with teary eyes, almost got my tear roll going on! “How about we talk for real. And I give you a real piece of my mind?” I take a sniff.
“Yes. I would love that, Nate,” she says already getting touched in the feels.
I smile…
And…touchdown! God, I can't wait to smack that serious journalist booty tonight!
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