Juliet

Chapter 42 #3

“You know I don’t even have to pull this trigger to ruin him. I can just show the world what he thinks of women. His hatred is all over my face.”

“We talked about this, Lovie. If you talk, it’ll be you against the world—”

“And I’d win.”

He guffaws. “His lawyers will bury you and your story. You don’t know how media and public perception works—”

“No, but Rich taught me how the world works. He taught me about stupid men who have too much power and want too much control, so they manipulate women into thinking we’re not strong enough to fight back.

I’ve stared death in the face more than once, and you think I’m scared of public perception and lawyers? ”

“So that’s what this is about? That dude put you up to this, Lovie—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. You think the Knights’ front office is talking about AJ now?

Wait until I go downstairs and cry to that nice lady at the front desk with my black eye and busted nose.

That’s who helped me get up here. In fact, I’ll tell anybody who’ll listen what he did to me.

He watched me twenty-four seven, and I still got away from him.

Imagine what I can do now with all this newfound freedom I have.

I’ll ruin him worse than he ruined me without even laying a finger on him.

I ain’t got nothing but time down here in Texas, Blake. ”

I stare into AJ’s hazel eyes and see Tony in them just like Uncle Kenny did that day they first met. I see Tony’s anger, his obsession with control, and his crusade for perfection.

“I want my money, Blake. Give it to me and you have my word that I’ll keep quiet. No money, no deal. I’ll walk right out of here and have Gianna at the front desk call 911.”

He chuckles bitterly. “So this is what we’ve come to? Wow…”

AJ holds his bloody mouth and glances down at his phone. “If…if she says anything, what can I expect?”

Blake sighs. “AJ, don’t let her get in your head. If she talks—”

“Tell me!”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s not gonna say or do anything. She’s just bluff—”

“Help!” I shout. “Help me—”

“Tell me what the fuck I can expect!” AJ yelps over my screaming.

Blake groans. “As soon as she talks, the media is gonna hit us. The headlines will be ugly and the language will be triggering, but we can always do damage control first. Then there’s likely gonna be a personal conduct policy investigation by the league, a possible suspension—look, I’m only five minutes away.

We’ve gotta meet about this without her.

We’re literally strategizing with the enemy—”

“You said I’d be the face of the franchise next season. How is my dad gonna explain this to his colleagues at the hospital?”

“I don’t fucking know, AJ! I’m not Dr. Boyd. Maybe you should’ve thought about your daddy issues before you decided to start abusing your girl! I’m an agent, not a therapist!”

“You always told me if anything about our fighting gets out that I can beat the accusations, but now you’re talking about personal conduct policies and suspensions! That doesn’t sound like beating it to me!”

“I never said you’d beat it without getting scathed! You ain’t God! You don’t just get to do wrong and think you won’t be touched at all! There’s a consequence for every decision we make, you spoiled motherfucker!”

I burst out laughing.

They’re imploding because they’re just as stupid as Rich says they are.

“Give it to her,” AJ blurts. “Just give her the money.”

“AJ—”

“Get her the fuckin money.”

“You’re…you’re just gonna let her shake you down? Wow.”

AJ looks up at the barrel against his forehead with tears falling from his eyes.

“I don’t even have a speeding ticket to my name and you want me to wake up with my face on every blog tomorrow?” he asks shakily.

“Nigga, are you serious?” Blake yelps.

“Just make this go away, man.”

Blake groans, then lays on his horn. “Get the fuck out my way! It’s a green light!”

“Blake,” AJ grits out.

“Okay…okay. How about one mil and a signature?”

“Three, Blake, and no NDA,” I murmur. “Or I go downstairs right now and have Gianna at the front desk call 911. I’m fine with rolling the dice on what kind of cop we’ll get this time. I’m not scared.”

His ragged breaths crackle over the line.

“Blake…” I sing out.

“Fine! Three mil, no NDA, but that’s it. There’s no more—”

“I want it today—in cash.”

“This ain’t a movie, girl. I just can’t get that much money on a day’s notice.”

“Well, make some calls and figure it out, super agent.”

He growls out an incoherent jumble of words under his breath.

“AJ?” he calls out. “You good, playboy? I’m…I’m pulling in downstairs.”

“How good can I be with a gun to my head?”

“I want the gun off his head, Lovie.”

“And I want the three mil you promised. I think we’re fine just how we are. You can hang up, AJ.”

And just as God and Mama would have it, my phone vibrates next to us on the floor right as AJ hangs up.

Both of us look over at it.

Rich’s name covers the top of the screen.

“How convenient,” AJ mutters sarcastically.

“Shut up,” I hiss, swiping my nose and glancing down at the red left behind on my hand. “Don’t say anything.”

I keep the gun pointed toward him and squat down. I answer the call, put it on speaker, then put both hands back on the gun.

Muffled laughter and music hum in the background.

“Baby, I’m on my fifth game of dominoes.

Where you at? I can’t be hanging around the house doing nothing all day.

I need to go by the bank, and I talked to Senior.

He said you ain’t even been by there yet.

He said something about somebody owing you money.

He was worried. What the fuck is he talking about? ”

The sound of Rich’s voice makes AJ’s face contort into a ball of betrayal.

“Rich, I’m…I’m coming. I…I just need to take care of one more thing.” I suck my lip while AJ’s eyes burn my face.

He doesn’t reply.

“Rich?”

“Your stutter.”

“Huh?”

“You lying to me.”

AJ sputters out a loud guffaw that pierces my ears and, no doubt, pierces Rich’s on the other side of the phone. I frown, pushing the barrel into his head even more.

“Who the fuck was that?” Rich asks.

Another trickle of blood cascades from my nose, and I sniffle, but it keeps falling.

“Rich…”

“Where you at, Lovie?”

“I…”

“Smit, where my keys at, man?”

“Rich…”

“Tell me where you are right now, Lovie! I’m…I’m coming.”

“How? I have your truck, baby.”

“You planned this? You planned this shit? You—”

“Listen to me.”

“Smit, call Arnez. Tell her I need her car!” he hollers into the background.

“Rich, listen to me!”

“Where you at?” he yells.

“Rich, do you trust me?”

He breathes hard, and the music in the background fades into a low hum while a jumble of voices talk around him.

“It’s me! I don’t trust me, Lovie! I hear you sniffling and I hear a man with you, and I…I…you got my head all fucked up right now!”

“Listen to me. Are you listening?”

“How the fuck can you ask me to listen to you at a time like this?”

“Rich,” I murmur. “I want you to take a deep breath, go back, sit down, and finish playing your game. I’ll be there soon to finish unpacking and to cook us lunch while you go do what you need to do.”

AJ shuffles forward on his knees. “She has a gun! And…and we’re at the P—”

I slam my hand against the phone, ending the call while my finger hugs the trigger.

“Are you stupid?” I grunt.

“Are you?”

“I’m the one trying to make sure you go back to New York alive because I still have some respect for your parents.”

He scoffs. “So you’d really do it? You’d kill me over this?”

“No. He’ll kill you over me. He doesn’t care who you are. To him, you’re just another stupid man who hurt me, and he doesn’t spare stupid men. So I think it’s best if you shut up and let me and Blake work this out.”

Two solid knocks echo throughout the suite. “It’s Blake! Open the door.”

“Is that really necessary?” Blake nods toward Rich’s gun sitting on the dining table next to me.

“Was the beating your client gave me necessary?” I ask through throbbing lips.

AJ sucks his teeth and holds a makeshift ice pack to his mouth that Blake made from one of the hotel towels and the melted ice from the champagne bucket.

Blake’s nostrils flare as he reaches down for the Morgan Stanley folder that sits in the empty chair between me and them.

It took five phone calls for him to make this happen.

One to AJ’s accountant, one to AJ’s lawyer, one to a financial advisor at a Morgan Stanley in Uptown who Blake’s frat brother recommended, one to a courier service, and then another one to AJ’s accountant who wanted to know why AJ was making a three-million-dollar investment he hadn’t consulted with him about on a random Friday in Houston.

And Blake’s such a good agent that he lied without stuttering as he paced back and forth in the suite’s kitchen while telling Mr. Chavez that it was “a personal venture AJ and his family were embarking on that he wasn’t at liberty to discuss. ”

The bright sun shines on the middle of the dining table while a heavy silence engulfs the room just like it did when we’d meet at the penthouse back in New York, but for the first time I have a seat at the table.

Usually I lingered off to the side next to AJ’s chair as Blake rattled off his “what does this mean for AJ’s career” speech.

He pulls an envelope out of the folder. “This was the safest and quickest way to do this.”

“Are you positive they won’t find anything out? Like can they trace any of this back to her?” AJ asks.

Blake cuts his eyes at him from across the table. “Can you shut the fuck up and let me do my job?”

AJ blows a breath out of his bloody mouth.

“He has a point,” I grit out. “I told you I wanted cash.”

“And I told you that was impossible on a day’s notice. No bank has three million dollars lying around. Even if we gave them a week’s notice, they’d ask questions and request law enforcement presence. It’d be messy.”

He opens the envelope and pulls out three checks. “They’re cashier’s checks. There’s no cap on them and Dorian said he talked to his manager and the bank can guarantee the funds.”

My face throbs as I stare at the checks.

“Are you sure this is how you wanna handle this, Lovie? I know AJ has some issues…but he’s a good kid.

You’re a good girl. I remember the first time I saw you two together.

I said, ‘Wow. I don’t even need to polish them up.

They’re already gold. They already have the makings of an NFL power couple. ’”

“Until you found out we were just fool’s gold, huh?” I ask, glancing at the side of AJ’s face as his jaw clenches.

“We can get you two into some couples therapy and forget this—forget these people—forget whatever this Rich dude has gotten you tangled up in.” Blake fingers the checks and holds them up.

His eyebrows had almost shot off his head when I told him I wanted two of the checks made out to Melo Barnes and one of them out to Rich Lovelace Jr.

“You know you can take this three mil and finish planning that wedding, and we can move on quietly from this,” he says.

“Is this the speech you’ll give your daughter some day if she ends up with a good kid like him?” I jut my chin towards AJ.

“All I’m saying is that you’re throwing years down the drain for something that can be fixed. Look at how much you’ve already invested into this life.”

I snort out a quiet laugh. “I don’t believe in the sunk cost fallacy, so save your agent pep-talks for the meatheads you recruit.”

“But you believe in AJ…well, you did.”

“Yup. And my mama believed in a man just like him too.”

“And I bet your mama would’ve told you it was worth it in the end,” he murmurs, setting the checks down and spreading them out between us.

I catch AJ’s hard hazel eyes. “Actually, that man she believed in for so many years killed her right in front of me. So how’s that for your sunk cost fallacy?”

“You told me your parents died in a car accident.” AJ scoffs.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room, and AJ tries to pull his eyes away from mine, but I don’t let him until I’m ready. Afterward, I scan the checks, eyeing the three separate million dollar amounts and names written on each one.

I place my hand over Rich’s gun. “You can pack them back up and I’ll be on my way so you don’t have to worry about protecting your client from little old me anymore.

I’m gonna need you to get Rich’s truck from the valet, and I’ll meet you behind the building—unless, of course, you want me to walk back through the lobby like this. ”

I snort, pushing back from the table. “Good luck with your winning season.”