“He should knock that fucker out in left field,” she growls. I hope that she keeps her lunch down; though, it doesn’t look promising considering the color of her skin.
“Did you give him the big A last night?” Libby asks, her tone completely serious.
“Holy shit,” Adam murmurs, his eyes wide as they shift between Victoria and Libby, obviously understanding their conversation. Then again, he’s a man - of course he would.
“I always give Carlos anal before playoffs and the series,” she responds. Adam groans, biting his bottom lip.
“You don’t abstain during the playoffs and the series?” Libby asks, her mouth hanging slightly open in surprise.
“Shit, no! Carlos would be horrible if he didn’t get his every day. Hell, a couple times a day,” Victoria admits, making me chuckle.
“What about Jarrod?” Libby questions, her bright, happy face twisted in what looks like agony and worry.
“No way. He has to have his right before, and he won’t shower until after the game. He likes to smell me on him,” she admits with some starry-eyed expression that makes me smile. I love how in love my friends are.
“You all are killing me,” Adam groans shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“What about Pete? He seems like a guy that always gets his,” Victoria asks. Before Libby can answer, we are interrupted by commotion entering our designated area.
There is a group of press coming our way. A security guard tries to hold them off, but they go around him and head straight for us. It’s a frenzy of flashing lights and cameras, all aimed right at our group. When one of them speaks, my blood runs cold.
“Maggie Rogers, is it a rite of passage for you to get involved with the man taking your deceased husband’s position on the team? Did the managers encourage you two to get together? How do you feel about the sex tape that was just released?”
I cover my mouth with my hand when I hear the words sex tape and my eyes begin to water. Amalie wraps her hand around my thigh and tells them to back off. She states that there will be no comments and yells for security. Seconds later, a team of police officers drag the paparazzi away and I am left sitting with tears streaming down my face.
“Don’t listen to them. They don’t know anything about you and Jackson, honey,” Victoria consoles.
I don’t care about them questioning my relationship with Jackson. I assumed that would be happening sooner or later. No, what has my head reeling is the mention of a sex tape. I quickly wrack my brain, wondering how on earth somebody could have taped us. I can only think of a few days ago, when Jackson pressed me against his window, but how anybody could have filmed us from that high up is a mystery.
“Holy shit,” Libby mutters, her eyes glued her eyes glued to her phone.
“What?” I bark curtly. She shakes her head.
“You shouldn’t see this,” she mutters, but I snatch the phone away from her.
What I see on Libby’s phone makes me break out in a loud sob. There I am in, all of my naked glory, on my hands and knees, while Jackson fucks me from behind. One of his hands is wrapped around one of my breasts while the other is tangled in my hair, pulling my head back. This was just a few nights ago, after our date. I remember it well - it was the best night of my life. I stare in horror as the perfectly clear video catches me touching my clit while Jackson pounds into me from behind.
“Holy fucking shit,” Amalie gasps over my shoulder.
“How… how….” I can’t even get the words out. My throat is too tight and I am unable to speak.
“This tape is over an hour long. That’s some serious fucking girl, who could have done this?” Libby grabs the phone away from me and turns off the video, but the image has been burned into my head.
An hour of footage, an hour of Jackson and I having sex for all of the world to see. An hour that could jeopardize his career and will surely ruin our relationship and my life.
Who could have done this?
Somebody must have broken into the apartment. The only person I can think of is Elliot, but what could he have gained from this?
Who would and who could do this to me, to us?
Who hates us that much?
“Holy fuck, Jackson is going to be pissed,” Adam says as he looks at his phone. He doesn’t offer up anything else, just a statement.
“Of course he’s going to be pissed! He’s going to be livid, is what he’s going to be. His woman out there for the world to see,” Libby practically yells. I am shocked into silence.
Speechlessly, I watch as Amalie picks up her phone and calls somebody. I don’t have the wherewithal to listen to her words, or to watch as Jackson steps up to the plate, or to even cry any longer. . I just numbly stare out into space. Somebody has violated me to a degree I didn’t think was even possible.
It wasn’t that Jackson and I were particularly kinky that evening; in fact, we were pretty vanilla. But it was such an intimate moment – our intimate moment. It was the best night of my life, a time where I felt more cherished and more loved than I ever have and now, now it’s been shared with the entire world. Not only has it been shared with the entire world, diminishing its meaning, but it will completely destroy me.
How will I survive this?
How will I come back from this without Jackson?
“Come with me, doll.” A heavy hand lands on my shoulder and I spin around to see our favorite security guard, Marcus.
“I- I-” I try to speaks, but I am trembling too much to even finish my sentence.
“Marcus will protect you, Maggie. He’ll get you down to Jackson before those leeches can get to you. Duck out with him, please,” Amalie pleads, her eyes glassy with tears. She’s sad for me. Again.
Why do I always make people so fucking sad with my pathetic life?
I somberly and mechanically follow Marcus, who is explaining that the other guards and police officers are keeping the “rat-bastard paparazzi, fuckin’ busy.” I want to smile at his words, but I can’t. My face holds zero emotion because I feel as though it has been drained from my body. I am now a gaping black hole inside and it hurts like hell.
“You stay here, honey. The game’s almost over, then I’ll escort yous twos to Lexington’s car.”
I nod and look up into the guard eyes. I shouldn’t have. I see nothing but pity and it makes my gut clench.
A few moments later, the tunnel is filled with loud yells, victorious yells, and I try to smile at the fact that they’ve won. Now they’re one step closer to the Series. Jackson will be so happy. I watch as the men jump, cheer and shout their way into the locker room. Each one of them has given me some kind of sideways glance, but they’re unreadable as I wait for the only man whose opinion matters - Jackson.
“What’s goin’ on here?” Jarrod asks, his face etched with worry.
“Harrison, can you get Lexington’s gear? He needs to get outta here ASAP,” Marcus asks. Jarrod nods, clapping Jackson on the back before silently walking away. I wonder if Amalie has already warned him.
“Marcus, tell me what the fuck is happening here?” Jackson growls. Marcus’ eyes go from mine to his and he smiles awkwardly before he starts to walk out of the side entrance. I follow silently.
“Talk to your woman, Jackson,” is all that he says as we head for Jackson’s Audi. Stupidly I look behind me and watch the swarm of paparazzi coming our way.
“Jackson, we need to leave, now.” My voice sounds hoarse and foreign. Jackson must hear the urgency in my tone because moments later we are both in the car and speeding toward his apartment.
“Tell me.” I shake my head.
“When we get upstairs,” I mumble. He just nods, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel with so much force; I think that surely it is going to bend beneath his hands.
The apartment is deathly quiet when we enter. I waste no time walking over to the computer in his office and powering it on. Jackson is still in his full uniform, all the way down to his cleats, a
nd he is a ball of nervous energy behind me. I know the anticipation of what I’m about to show him is making it impossible for him to calm down. I haven’t revealed anything to him yet because I know that the video will explain the situation more than I ever could. I pull up the Google search and urge Jackson to sit down.
“I don’t want to sit,” he barks at me.
“Sit, Jackson please,” I plead. I feel like I am about to scream at any second. My mind is a jumbled mess.
Jackson finally sits and, from over his shoulder, I type in the words I need to find the video. Each word makes me shake a little harder, makes my stomach clench a little tighter, makes my head a little lighter.
Jackson Lexington sex tape
Jackson’s intake of breath behind me proves his surprise, but nothing, absolutely nothing, will prepare him for the actual feelings that are about to invade him once I click the play button. I hold my breath as I click the little red circle with the arrow in the middle. Instantly, the screen fills with us - Jackson’s husky voice invading the quiet apartment from the computer screen.
“Ride my face babe. I want your come.”
“Holy fuck,” he breathes next to me as he watches himself on the screen. I watch with him, unwillingly reliving the moment he lowered himself behind me, pleasing me with my wrists tied behind my back.
I start to sweat. The only thing running through my mind is the possibility that Jackson taped us and somehow it was leaked to the press. Either his phone was hacked and it was completely innocent or the unimaginable, he leaked it himself. I shake my head unable to consider than an option. No way would he violate me that way, but I have to know.
“Tell me you didn’t do this, Jackson. Please, tell me you didn’t.” I plead, I have to know the whole truth, no matter how painful.
“You think I did this?” he shouts, anger rolling off of him in waves.
“This tape is over an hour long. It follows us into the bedroom, Jackson. Who could have gotten in here unseen, unless the equipment was already set up?” I point out the facts - simple, cold-hard, truths.
“I’m a kinky bastard, Maggie, but I would never tape you without your knowledge - I sure as fuck wouldn’t post it online for the world to see. You’re mine and I, in no way whatsoever, wanted anybody to see this part of you. Especially that night.”
I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Somebody did this and I know it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t even know how to set up a camera in every room that we wouldn’t notice. My eyes glance around quickly as I try to see if I can spot anything out of the ordinary, but I can’t. A sudden thought enters my mind and I blurt it out without even thinking.
“What about Adam? He’s the only other person who has access to your place,” I say.
Jackson shakes his head and glares at me.
“My brother would never do this to me, Maggie. This is my career we’re talking about. Do you realize the implications of this on the team? Right before the series? Holy fucking shit. PR is going to have a goddamned coronary, not to mention the owner and the managers. I am fucked,” he grinds out through a clenched jaw. I try to reach out to him, but he turns the computer off before shrugging away from me, his phone to his ear.
“I just saw. No. I don’t know how it happened. Do you think I’m that stupid? Its existence is a shock to me. Yeah. I’ll be there in an hour.”
I watch as Jackson walks toward his bedroom and then I jump when the bathroom door slams behind him. I slowly walk into the bedroom and hear the shower running. When I sit down on the bed, my body starts to shake. It’s finally starting to sink in, the implications of this video – all of it. There is a tape of me, of my naked body, having sex with Jackson, all over the internet. Tears soak my cheeks as I realize that I will never get away from this. I will never be seen as anything but a cleat chasing, fame-whore who went from one pro-ball player’s bed to the next.
Oh, fuck. I look like Alana.
Nobody will believe that I fell in love with Jackson before I knew who he was, that he is the exact opposite of my dead husband. No person on earth will care. I am just a thing to them, now. I am not real.
“Don’t cry. We need to go,” Jackson barks, his voice rough and foreign, contrast to the endearing tone he usually delivers when talking to me. He’s changed and is now wearing his worn jeans and a tight t-shirt with a ball cap pulled down over his damp hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say between sobs.
“Yeah, babe, you are. We have a meeting with a publicist, the owners, and the managers. Get your ass up.”
I don’t know this cold version of Jackson. I don’t want to ever see this version of him again. I hate him.
Numbly, I do as he orders. As we walk to his car, I feel like this is a death sentence or at least like an end to our short relationship. How on earth can we recover when Jackson is so obviously shutting me out? I feel like I am sitting in the silent car with Sammy all over again, and I fucking hate it.
The elevator ride to the conference room is just as silent as the car ride and it makes me sick. This is the end, I know it. In this room, I know that these people will tell Jackson to dump me and, gauging his body language, it won’t be a hardship for him to agree. Once again, I’ll be alone with the whole world watching me; except this time, they’ll be watching me without pity - they’ll be watching me, judging me and looking at me with pure disgust.
Jackson holds the door open for me but doesn’t look at me. Instead, he looks above me, once we are seated, I hold my breath and wait.
The conference table is full of men and women in suits, except the managers who are still in their uniforms from the game. I sit up and try to meet their gazes, but I can’t. I chicken out and, instead, I keep my eyes downcast on the twisted fingers in my lap.
“How did this happen?” Nick, the owner, asks.
“No fuckin’ clue,” Jackson says harshly.
“Maggie, honey, what did you do?” Nick sounds like he’s horrified and I look into his face and open my mouth.
“Maggie didn’t do shit, Nick. You know that – you, of all people, know that Maggie wouldn’t do this.” Jackson’s words surprise me.
“I want to hear it from her. Did you not get enough money when Sammy died? He not only had an insurance policy that we issued, but you also got the rest of his contract in cash, Maggie. That would set up most people for ten lifetimes. Do you hate the team that much? I know Sammy always said you didn’t agree with him playing ball, that you thought we used his talents and didn’t pay him enough for his work, but we were more than fair - always were.” My jaw goes completely slack at his words. Tears well in my eyes at the meaning of his speech and I can’t believe it, I cannot fathom Sammy saying these things about me.
“I never thought that and I never said that, Nick. Never.” My words are barely above a whisper, but Nick clearly doesn’t buy what I’m saying. He just waves me away, his face twisted in disgust.
“It doesn’t matter what you’ve said privately, Maggie,” says Kathy. “This is public. This looks terrible. Not just for you, but for Jackson and the entire team. I don’t even know how to brush this under the rug. I don’t think any amount of positive PR could spin this tape in a positive direction,” Kathy is the only other woman in the room. She’s the team’s head of PR. I know her by reputation only.
“Now, had I known this might surface, I could have tried to pay people off to keep it quiet. Lord knows I did it for Sammy a thousand times, but it’s too late once it’s on the internet, honey.”
“What do you mean, when you say you did it for Sammy?” The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them.
“His hundreds of affairs and one night stands, you didn’t think that he was that careful did you?” She grins and there is a wicked gleam in her eye that makes me shudder.
“You knew? All of you knew and you just paid people off not to leak that information?” I yell, slamming my palms on the table.
“Marguerite, babe
,” Jackson’s hand wraps around my forearm, but my eyes slide over to him.
“Don’t you touch me, Jackson, not right now,” I say low and stern. He must realize I’m completely serious because he takes his hand away, his eyes darkening with worry as he scans my face. He should be fucking worried.
“We don’t get involved in the players personal lives until it affects the team, honey. If he wasn’t getting what he wanted at home, it wasn’t our place to tell his little wifey about his extracurricular activities.” Kathy smirks and it sends a blind rage through my entire body, the likes of which I’ve never felt.
“You bitch!” I screech, climbing on top of the table to wring her fucking neck.
“Marguerite,” Jackson demands, his arm wrapping around my waist from behind. “Kathy, you need to leave,” he orders, his voice hard and demanding just the way I love it.
“No. This is business, and if she doesn’t understand that, then she’s just as stupid as Sammy told me she was. Honey, wake the fuck up. Sammy stuck his dick anywhere he could, get over it,” she states. My body shakes with anger, my eyes narrowing on her.
“Like you, Kathy? Did you fuck my husband?” I ask boldly. She tries so hard to hide her grimace, but I see it, and so does Nick, apparently.
“Kathy, you are excused,” he booms. She flinches at his voice and she glares at me before leaving the room, slamming the door behind her skinny blonde ass as she goes.
“I am sorry, Maggie. That was extremely unprofessional,” Nick apologizes as Jackson allows me to sink into my seat. My body feels heavy and tired from all of the adrenaline spikes.
“Which part? Her telling me my husband was a man-whore or her actually fucking him?” I lash out, making Nick sputter and shake his head.
Catching Maggie Page 17