When I left for my run the next day, there stood Alessandra at her car, yelling into her phone blasting someone in Portuguese. She hung up with a huff then looked up and saw me, giving me one of her gorgeous smirks.
“Why hello, Ellen.”
“Hi, Alessandra.”
“So, I’m sure you’ve seen the commercial by now. What did you think?”
“It was okay,” I answered with a shrug.
“Well, I just want to thank you for loaning me your handsome man for a few days.”
“No problem,” I said with a sigh.
“We should get together for some girl talk over drinks soon. You can give me some, what do you say? Dimensions. Because from what I felt when he and I were in bed together, your baseball player is very well endowed indeed,” she said with a giggle. “I’m just disappointed that I didn’t get to find out if his lips are as soft as they look.”
I glared at her knowing she was just trying to make me jealous, which she’d absolutely succeeded in doing, but I wouldn’t let her get to me. I said goodbye, telling her I had to get to the bike path and took off in a jog. I honestly don’t know how I left there without being arrested for assault, but I did. I probably should’ve been taken in for assault on myself since I ran eight miles at almost a straight sprint. As I walked back to the condo, sucking wind like none other, I pondered over the one thing that I held onto from that entire conversation with Alessandra. It was the fact that Jag hadn’t lied to me about kissing her, because I swore, if that’d been the case, and he had actually lied, I’d have been on the next plane back to Chicago.
Chapter 17
I was twenty-three when Jag broke me. Just plain broke me.
A few weeks later, we sat in Dirk’s office waiting for him to end the phone call he’d taken right as we’d walked in. He’d asked Jag to meet with him about more endorsements he’d been negotiating, telling him that he wanted me to be there too, for some reason. Jag said it was probably so I’d know what all was coming up and that Dirk was trying to include me more in Jag’s professional life too. And wasn’t that so kind of him?
As I listened to Dirk schmoozing his way through his call, it was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes. He was such a fake. He’d say something to whoever he was talking to then look at Jag and me and shake his head, rolling his own eyes like the person was a complete idiot. I looked at Jag with a raised eyebrow, wanting him to realize that Dirk probably did that when he talked to him, but Jag just grinned back at me, totally blind to what kind of sycophantic phony his agent was. Jeez.
When he finally hung up, Dirk turned to us and apologized for the interruption, mumbling something about how hockey players were such catered-to babies at which he gave a ridiculously fake laugh. Ugh. This guy just totally creeped me out.
“Well, Jagger, I’ve been talking to the producer and he’s ready and willing to move forward.”
“Okay,” Jag replied with a nod.
I wondered what they were talking about, but was sure I’d soon find out. I had to admit it was somewhat fascinating listening to Dirk, telling us how he’d made this deal or that deal for Jag. The guy was good at his job, that was for sure, but the way he kept smiling at me like he had a big secret made me grit my teeth.
“So, we’ll be shooting out at Malibu again, for part two of our little mermaid story,” he said looking at me with a smarmy grin.
What the hell? While things hadn’t been totally resolved between Jag and me over the commercial, he’d told me that he understood (finally) where I was coming from. He said he wasn’t doing any more ads with Alessandra as far as he knew. He also told me that he’d talked to Dirk about it, and Dirk had promised he’d be more discriminating when it came to Jag’s endorsements in the future.
“I thought you weren’t going forward with this,” I said with a frown looking first at Jag then Dirk.
“We’re locked in. It’s a three-part deal. Jag signed the contract, so the deal’s sealed. Sorry,” he said insincerely, looking at me with false sympathy. “Guess you’ll just have to put up with your boyfriend making love to a beautiful mermaid for a couple more months,” he said with a laugh.
I knew I needed to get out of that office when I started looking around Dirk’s desk for a letter opener to stab him with.
When we left, it was all I could do to keep from blowing up at Jag until we got out on the street. “What the fuck, Jag? You lied to me!” I screeched making a few people on the street turn to look at me.
He grabbed me by the shoulders, digging his fingers into them and turned me toward him. “Goddamn it, keep it down, El!” he said in a low voice, looking around to make sure people didn’t hear him. He let me go as we walked to the car. “I only told you we weren’t doing more shoots because it upset you so much the first time. Look, I’m really sick and fucking tired of arguing about this. It’s ridiculous. Alessandra isn’t that bad. She’s actually been pretty nice the last couple times I’ve talked to her.”
Say what? “And when have you talked to her?” I hissed.
“I’ve seen her around. This is just business, okay? That’s it.”
We’d gotten to the car, so I got in not waiting on Jag to open the door for me as he usually did. God, I was tired of arguing over this as much as he was. Maybe I was being a bitch about it all. I just didn’t know anymore. But I did know that Jag had lied and that was so not cool.
We rode home in silence, and once we got there, he left immediately, telling me he had a team meeting. Well, this had worked out just great. I honestly didn’t know what to do, so I ended up calling my dad to get his advice.
“Hey, Dad,” I said with a sob when he answered his phone.
“Ellen? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know anymore,” I said, crying harder.
On top of fighting with Jag, I was also entirely sick of was crying. Oh, and maybe I was a little annoyed at being reduced to entertaining thoughts of violence against Dirk and Alessandra all the time too. Just a little. But, jeez, I’d cried more in the last two months than I’d cried in my entire life. And a big boo-frickin-hoo to that.
I told my dad what was going on, and since he was a lawyer, he explained to me about contracts and all, which I understood. But on the other part, he told me he didn’t think I was being too unreasonable, and that Jag should understand where I was coming from and he shouldn’t have lied to me even if he was trying to protect me. That made me feel better, but I knew I couldn’t throw any of it in Jag’s face because then he’d be mad at my dad.
“I love you, Dad. Thank you. Tell Mom and everyone I send them my love,” I told him before hanging up.
I sat there thinking after ending the call. This whole situation was unhealthy. I’d lost over ten pounds since the stupid commercial had aired, my nerves being stretched to the limit. God, I had to get hold of myself. I was a strong, self-assured, independent woman and it was ridiculous that I was letting something like this bring me down. I had to get over myself ASAP. I’d be starting back to school in a little over a month, entering my third, last, and most important year, and I couldn’t afford to let anything screw it up.
Jag began filming for the second commercial the next week. He was tired and grouchy because he’d been traveling so much, and I could tell he wasn’t particularly thrilled with having to split his time between ball and being on set. Such was the life of a star, I guessed. He’d offered to take me with him a few times to filming, but I made sure that my work schedule always conflicted with his, so, darn, I just couldn’t make it. After I’d turned him down several times, he stopped asking.
His shoots took the rest of June, the entire month of July and halfway into August because he’d had tons of away games and the lingerie company and crew had to work around it. I kept my mouth shut and dealt with everything, trying to stay positive even if I had to pretend when I was with him that all was well. “Fake it till you make it,” they say (there’s that moronic “They” again), and by God I was going to fake it unti
l I proved it true.
School began and I was excited to see the light at the end of the tunnel. If things went as expected, I’d get my DPT in the spring and start my clinical residency program right after, and I couldn’t wait to get started. I’d worked my ass off to get where I was, had put up with plenty of bullshit along the way, and yet I’d made it this far. Nothing was going to stop me at that point.
By mid-September we were back to our old grind. Jag had games out the wazoo and I had my head crammed so far into my books that Armageddon could’ve come and I’d have just glanced around at all the madness, given a disinterested “Meh” and gone back to studying.
One thing that I did bring my head out of the books for was when Jag started getting attention for not only his athletic prowess, but for his stunning good looks by various magazines, celebrity gossip shows and web blogs. Playgirl had contacted Dirk, wanting to feature Jag, He’d been labeled one of the “Top 25 Most GQ Male Athletes” by GQ and they’d done a spread on him, which had been really hot because they’d dressed him in a tux and a couple of suits along with several different chic but masculine outfits. Even Inside Edition ran a spot over “Jag the Stag” (gag) one evening on its broadcast. And I couldn’t disagree with any of them. My man was everything they said and more, and I couldn’t have been prouder of him. The only thing that remotely bothered me about it all was they all kept trying to tie him to Alessandra, which would eventually be the downfall to our relationship. Oh, hang on. It just keeps getting better.
Dirk called around that time wanting to speak with Jag, but he’d gone to pick up some food and had accidentally left his phone on the bar, so when it rang, I answered. Dirk had been surprised that I’d answered, the idiot still couldn’t figure out that I lived with Jag and was his girlfriend, but whatever, so he’d left a message with me. The last week of September there was to be a dinner party for the premiere of the next installment of the Sea Hag commercial. Well, Dirk had called it the Mermaid commercial, but again, whatever. Anyway, he said Jag and I were invited, that it was, of course, black tie, there’d be a red carpet, it was even being broadcast on one of the local stations, and that I needed to have Jag return his call when he got in.
The party wasn’t just for the commercial. The lingerie company was celebrating making its gazillionth dollar or something like that and it was also the CEO’s birthday, so a big celebration was to be had for all. Yay.
But I was actually really looking forward to this gig, though. All thoughts Vera Wang, Versace and Valentino went through my head as I pictured the fabulous gown I’d wear. When Jag returned home, I gave him the message, he returned Dirk’s call and upon hanging up, told me with a huge grin that I needed to go shopping for some “fancy duds” as he called them. I jumped on him with a scream, knocking him to the floor in my excitement and showed him how happy I was to buy some couture “duds” for the fete.
He left the next morning headed to DC then they’d move on to Pittsburgh and finish up in Atlanta for a grueling two weeks before heading back to take on the Giants at home. But let me tell you, he had a huge smile on his face thanks to the things I’d done to him the night before as a payback for the dress he was buying me. For once, things seemed to be going well for us. About damned time.
Looking back, I can see where things went wrong for us. But I’m getting ahead of myself. How about I start at the beginning of the end.
I’d gotten my dress, and it was the most beautifully sublime thing I’d ever seen. It was an emerald green corset dress of satin with a slit up to “there,” and a strap that went over my right shoulder. I was in designer heaven. And don’t forget the shoes. Silver, satiny stilettos by Louboutin. Enough said. I’d made appointments for my hair and nails the morning of the reception and had called everyone I knew to share in my excitement, and they were all going to tune in via the Internet to watch. Gwen’s squeal of excitement pierced my eardrum before she said she’d be watching live. I’d even told my favorite professor and some of my classmates to tune in to which they’d replied they wouldn’t miss it.
The day of the gala, I’d gone that morning to get my hair and nails done while Jag did some much-deserved surfing. Before I’d left, he’d put on his body suit, which on some people looked ridiculous, but on him, it showed off every muscle of that fine body of his. He’d laughed at the lurid look I’d given him and shooed me out the door with a roll of his eyes.
It was four by the time I returned home, so I started putting my makeup on since we had to leave by six. Jag had texted saying he’d gone to pick up his tux but he’d be back soon. At a little past five, he came into the bedroom where I’d put on the dress and was inspecting it in the mirror making sure I’d zipped every zipper and there were no bulges or anything marring its appearance. The thing fit like a glove and one false turn of the fabric would make it look like crap. I’d had to have it taken in two times since buying it since I’d still been losing weight, my nerves eating away at me almost daily.
“What do you think?” I asked as he came into the bedroom. When he didn’t reply, I looked at him and my stomach instantly knotted at the look on his face. “Jag? What is it?”
He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath then ran his hands over his face and up through his hair. Uh oh.
“Jag?” He looked devastated as if someone had died. Oh, God! Had someone died? “Jag, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Has someone gotten hurt? Are our families okay?” I was in panic mode by then.
“No, no, baby, nothing like that,” he assured me, taking my hands and looking down at me, but the look of desolation hadn’t left his face.
“What is it then?” I whispered.
He led me to the bed and sat me down, which wasn’t an easy feat with as tight as my dress was. Then he knelt on the floor in front of me. Dear lord, what was he going to tell me?
“Dirk called.” He watched me carefully, the sadness on his face just overwhelming.
“Yes?” I asked, wanting to know what had happened.
“He, uh… El…”
I could’ve sworn he choked up, but I’d never seen Jag cry before so that couldn’t be right. I let out a nervous chuckle. “What’d he say, Jag?”
He took another deep breath, his hands holding mine tighter before looking at me with such forlornness I reached out and cupped his jaw. “He, uh, said that I was to go to this thing tonight alone.”
I drew my hand back instantly as if it’d been burned. “Wh-what?” All the blood drained out of my face. And there I sat in my gorgeous Versace gown, Louboutins, hair and makeup done beautifully staring at him in shock.
“I’m sorry, El. I told him I wasn’t going either then, but he said I was contractually bound to attend.”
All the breath had been knocked out of me. Not just for the fact that my evening had been ruined, but that I knew Dirk had set this whole thing up just to humiliate me. Wow.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. You look beautiful.”
I huffed out a chuckle. Yeah. I’m sure I did.
The next hour became a blur in my mind just like Jag’s thirteenth birthday party had after he’d kissed Marie Jackson.
Jag got ready as I undressed, carefully hanging my dress back on its hanger. Putting my shoes back in their box. Wiping all the makeup off my face. Taking the pins out of my hair. I moved in a zombie-like fashion, not paying any particular attention to anything, sure that the hollow feeling inside me was going to eat me alive.
“Baby, I’ll only stay for as long as is necessary. Again, I’m so sorry, El.”
I looked at him all dapper in his tux, just like on Prom night (damn my memory) but I couldn’t find it in me to tell him that he looked nice. Autopilot was my friend right then, and all I could do was go through the motions. Before I realized, he’d left.
I don’t know if it’s inside everyone, but I have this little masochistic streak that needs to be fed every so often, and because of this, I tuned into the broadcast of the party. I’d called everyone I coul
d to let them know what’d happened and they’d all commiserated with me which just made me feel worse.
Sitting in my big IKEA chair, my legs thrown over one arm, I drank straight from the bottle of Macallans that Jag had gotten for his last birthday from one of his teammates, watching the damned gala live. If I wasn’t invited to the party, I’d just have to have one of my own, was my reasoning.
I had no idea there were that many underwear models in the world as I watched them all traipse across the red carpet waving at their fans who stood behind velvet ropes. The hosts interviewed the most well known models and I was surprised to see that some of them were halfway intelligent. Well, that was rude of me. I couldn’t let my dealings with one model in particular blemish my opinion of them all, I told myself.
Thirty minutes into the damned thing, I caught a glimpse of Jag shaking hands with the fans as he smiled at them. God, he was handsome, looking gorgeous in his tux. There were a couple of models lined up in front of him who were with their boyfriends or spouses waiting to get some face time with the emcees, so I had to wait a bit to see his interview. As the second model walked onto the little stage where the interviews were taking place, I finally caught sight of Jag. Who was standing with the stunning Alessandra. Holding her hand. And smiling down at her as they chatted.
What? Again, what?
My insides turned to ice as I sat up to watch what was happening right in front of my very eyes. I set the bottle of scotch on the coffee table and rubbed my eyes thinking I was probably drunk and just seeing things. But when I reopened them, nope, I’d seen everything as clear as day.
It was Jag and Alessandra’s turn in the spotlight then.
The male host spoke into his microphone. “So, Jag, how does it feel to be The Sexiest Athlete of the Year?”
Jag had been awarded that title by another publication earlier in the month and we’d laughed about it because it seemed like the kudos just kept coming.
Discovering Us (True Love Trilogy) Page 15