“There’d be no story if you wouldn’t party, Jacks-off.”
He laughs, “Oh Chesty.” I roll my eyes at his ridiculous name for me and try to slouch to keep my D’s out of eyesight. I never knew I’d grow to hate my boobs after years of praying for them to appear. “I am very aware of that. But being a part of the PR world, you’re also more than aware that these stories get spun out of control. And of course, the media take on a the life of their own.”
I watch him slide into the chair next to me, slowly tipping it on its back two legs as he smooths his hands over his thighs. Those thick, tan thighs.
Jesus, Francesca, get a hold of yourself.
“I am aware, but if you don’t feed the strays, you won’t have extra cats hanging around.”
He laughs at my analogy. He knows exactly what I’m getting at. “Okay, so let’s just get down to it.” He brings his chair back to all fourlegs and leans in closer to me. He smells so good, even after being on the field all morning. Like a real man—sweat and sunshine.
Nick always smelled like too much Axe body spray. Like he was a little kid trying to play with the big boys.
“I’d like you to be my PR rep. Now,” he quickly holds up his hand, “before you say no, I want you to hear me out. I was the bad boy of the NFL, most of it was my own doing. I take responsibility for that, but since I’ve been back here, I’ve stayed under the radar. Even though my life is different now, the public only knows me as the bad boy because I haven’t given them anything different. I want to show them the difference so I can move on from this image and back into the upper ranks, as coach. Maybe a college to start and work my way back. I’d need you to run my social media, put out some stories and accompany me to fundraisers. If my image can be seen as the down-to-earth guy I really am, rather than the party animal they believe me to be, I think I can work my way up again.”
I sit quietly taking it all in, but mom has different ideas. I ask why I would need to accompany him to these events when mom exclaims, “Oh Chessy! That sounds like a great idea. This is just what dad mentioned the other night.” My eyes grow wide as I try to get her to stop talking.
“The other night? What was mentioned?” Jackson asks.
Mom butts right in. “Frank was telling Francesca how you’ve been looking to make a change and thought it might be a good idea for Chess to help you out. That way, she can decide if she wants to continue in PR or move on herself.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve already thought about all this.”
“I haven’t,” I add quickly.
“I mean, we’re already working together on this festival. We could kill two birds with one stone.”
I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. I don’t know if I could spend more time with Jackson. It hurt so bad last time, watching him leave. This time, I would basically help him do just that. Leave. I don’t know if my heart could take another loss. I look at him and he’s watching me with something different in his eyes. Vulnerability. He’s afraid I’m going to say no. “Are you different?” I askquietly.
He opens his mouth to answer. Then shuts it. Starts again, but then my phone goes off and I look at the text. It’s Britt checking in, but I take it as a sign to get the hell out of here. “Oh shoot, I forgot I made lunch plans.” I shove out of my chair. “Sorry to bolt, Mom. I’ll catch up with you later about all this.”
As I head out, Jackson calls out, “I’ll text you later Noches and we’ll go over the details!” I continue to run from the room, not caring that I look like the place is on fire.
* * *
I fall onto my couch with a glass of wine and try to relax. I look around at all the boxes I’ve yet to unpack. Coming back here was hard. It feels like I failed.I missed everyone so much, but I always wanted to say I made it on my own.
Growing up with three older brothers, they loved to smother me. And I didn’t mind it because when I was small, the protection, love, care and attention they showed made me feel safe. However, when I hit my teenage years, I wanted to do my own thing and find out who I was. I wanted my own friends and wanted to have girlfriends who wanted my friendship and not my friendship because of who my three older brothers were. Some girls thought if they hung around me and at my house, they’d have a better chance of getting noticed by the boys.
That’s probably the biggest reason why I left Christmas. I wanted to branch out, jump into the big city, but I was not ready for what that big city held. I had to get out from under my brother’s thumb, especially Adam, and I needed to get away from the constant reminder that was Jackson, and how he was moving on right in front of me. He had no reasonnotto move on. The attraction was one-sided and immature.
He was going places.
I wanted to be seen as being able to handle my life.
So, I indulged in my work and kept myself busy, focused, vying to be the best, to climb higher and higher until I was knocked off that peg again by someone who I thought wanted me for me andnot, once again, my name or who I knew. Nick was always very interested in my brother and his ties to Jackson and who he could introduce us to. I hated it. I would never use someone like that. I thought it might be jealousy, but I think I see now it was how he could get ahead using someone else’s contacts.
Jackson was my brother’s best friend and, by proxy, became my friend and someone I could count on, another added protection. But when he hit the NFL, he played up that bad boy persona, and it ruined him. He let the fame get to his head. The money and women were too much for a young kid to handle. My dad warned him, but Jackson couldn’t pull himself out until it was too late.
When he got hurt, he lost the attention he had become accustomed to and, worse, lost who he was as a person. In the end, it was a good thing, a blessing. It was his second chance to come home and return to being the good guy who we all knew he could be.
Now he’s the hometown hero yet again and I’m just the poor sister who failed at her job.I’m sure he’s heard about what happened to me. He came to me for help. I hope this isn’t a pity ask. I want to help him get back his image, but at what cost? He will just leave us again, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to let him go again.
Trying to evict him from living rent free in my head for all those years, only resulted in making bad choices for myself and choosing the wrong guy. But can I block my feelings for him and still help him at the same time?
My phone buzzes with a text.
Unknown number: Hola buenos noches! What are you wearing?
