Chapter 39 Margeaux
MARGEAUX
Flying back home and parting from Jon was miserable. Who would have thought that I’d get all attached and needy?
“Girl!” I’m practically thrown to the floor, barely catching myself. Jazz is hugging me from behind, her arms wrapped around my waist.
“What the–!?”
I try to spin around and peel her arms off my, but she’s not budging. She’s clinging to me like a baby koala.
“Shut up. I was worried sick about you when I found out what happened. A fucking stalker, Mar!? Why didn’t you say something?” She’s now changed tactics to giving me a not-so-gentle shove.
“I didn’t think it was a serious situation. I mean, you even said you get creepy fan mail all the time,” I argue.
She rolls her eyes at me like I’m the biggest idiot in the world.
“Yea. Creepy dick pics. None of them are coming to my house or threatening me. You could have gotten seriously hurt.” Her darks eyes well with tears quickly and I crouch down and give her another big hug.
“I was scared something did happen to you. You’re my only real friend out here.
I can’t do this shit without you,” she sniffles against my shoulder.
It’s been so long since I had a close friend like Jazz. The last close friend I had was Becca, and that turned out horribly. “Just promise me, if our friendship fizzles out, you won’t kidnap my boyfriend and try to kill me in a seedy hotel room,” I joke.
“Is that what fucking happened?!”
Before I can give her the entire story, Dahlia finds us and leads me to the meeting room with the directors of the PEW. Dahlia sits next to me, and Ashleigh is on my other side.
“First of all, Margeaux, we need to apologize for not doing better to protect you,” Dave says. His thinning black hairline is dotted with sweat.
I stay quiet, giving him a chance to finish.
“The question is what are you guys going to do to change things so something like this doesn’t happen again?” Dahlia speaks up, clearly pissed off.
Mitch shifts in his chair, his bulky arms testing the limits of his polo. “Well, to be fair. Margeaux, you never told anyone about this situation…”
“Don’t you dare pull that shit here, Mitch!
” Dahlia stands up, leaning over the table.
“Who was she supposed to tell? What would people have said? It’s part of this life.
That just means you’re on your way to becoming a star.
Fuck that shit! I didn’t take this job to see this sport and organization stay the same.
I’m here to help push it into the future.
The women’s division has tripled in popularity over the last five years,” Dahlia begins, then glances over at Ashleigh who is already pulling up something on her laptop.
She spins it around, facing the screen to the directors. “More teenage and pre-adolescent females are tuning into the PEW each season. The sales and marketing department is already getting more requests for female athlete appearances, and events.”
I stay quiet, absolutely impressed by these two women. Maybe I should take a business class or two. Learn more about these types of things.
“Word is already getting out about the incident with Margeaux; I highly doubt she’s the only athlete– regardless of gender– who is receiving inappropriate mail from fans.
This organization needs to stand behind its athletes.
So, again, gentlemen, my question to you is, What. Are. You. Going. To. Do?”
Another ninety minutes of meeting and discussing the future of the PEW has me feeling even more secure and confident in my decision to compete in this sport.
Mitch and Dave shared plans for improved athlete safety and welfare.
Which will also include access to counselors and therapists, regardless of whether you’re a first-year rookie or a seasoned veteran.
Mentally exhausted, and ready for a nap, I stand up.
“Just one more thing, Margeaux,” Mitch says before I can leave. I keep my face neutral even though I’m so grumpy from all the travel and not having a chance to check my phone to see how Jon’s doing. “Did you drop in at a place called Frankie’s Gym while you were in Paramount?”
My entire body goes rigid. Fuck. Did somebody snap a photo of me making out with Jon in the men’s locker room? Am I now going to be charged with public indecency or something?
“Uh. Yea. About twice a day. There wasn’t much else for me to do while I was stuck there awaiting my sentencing,” I say with probably a little too much snark, but whatever.
Mitch doesn’t seem phased as he continues. “Well, Frankie, the owner, loved having you there. He said the energy you brought was great, and once people heard you were dropping in at his gym, he noticed an increase in attendance during those hours.”
“What are you getting at, Mitch?” Ashleigh asks. Her usually perky and bubbly tone faded away about twenty minutes ago. I can see her phone lighting up with unanswered e-mails and messages. This woman needs a vacation.
“He offered a partnership,” Mitch says.
“A great opportunity to grow and expand PEW,” Dave adds. “He wants us to build a training facility in Paramount. He would be a part owner of the facility.”
My jaw drops. Is this really happening?
“When?” Dahlia asks.
“How?” I ask.
“Apparently, that guy Frankie—Frank DeLuca—has deep pockets. He sees the growing market of the PEW and wants to be a part of it,” Dave says, smiling.
“We are already in talks about potential locations to build another training facility. Once that’s settled, it’d be great to have athletes in there, training, by next summer,” Mitch says excitedly.
This is amazing. The best news possible. I could move to Paramount for work! Jon and I just need to stick it out for about a year. We can do it. I hope he’s willing to do it. Then, a sudden twisting and churning feeling hits me in the gut.
“So, how will you decide who gets to train in Paramount? And, if I wanted the option, would I be considered? You know, considering the trouble I got into down there?” I ask nervously, already preparing to hear soul-crushing news.
“Don’t worry about that Strickland guy,” Ashleigh says, tapping her shoulder into mine.
“I did some digging into that boy’s past, and he’s not exactly a ‘model citizen.’ Appears his daddy bails him out of all kinds of trouble.
Plus, the legal team here got a very interesting e-mail from a Miss…
” Ashleigh pauses, pulling up the e-mail on her phone.
“Zoey Gallagher. She said she was at the bar that evening, and can corroborate your story, that Bryce Strickland was being inappropriate and attempting to assault her friend, who is also willing to go on the record if we need her to. So, you won’t be getting any more problems from that family. I promise.”
Again, I’m speechless. Is this my life right now?
I need to call Zoey and thank her. She didn’t have to do that.
I guess I really underestimated her, and how much she really wants to make things right between us.
I was starting to see why Jacky likes her so much, and I’m starting to realize how awesome of a person she can be.
Especially when she’s in your corner, fighting for you.
“So, with that conflict no longer looming, we would give priority of choice to athletes with permanent contracts,” Dave says.
“Oh. Yea. Sure. That makes total sense,” I relent. I have hopes of getting offered a full contract after this season wraps up, but who knows? There are a lot of talented athletes and only so many spots.
Dahlia nudges me with her foot, trying to be discreet. I look over at her and she’s still looking forward to the directors, but I notice one of her hands is behind her back and she’s pointing her thumb upwards. Does that mean? OH. MY. GOD!!!!
“Alright. We’ll make a formal announcement about the new training facility once we get an actual location identified and Frankie signs off on his portion of the expected costs.
You’ve helped create a lot of great change for the organization, Margeaux.
Whatever happens after this season wraps up, you should be really happy with what you have done,” Dave says, doing his best to look stoic, and not give anything away.
I nod, worried if I speak, I’ll say something stupid.
Mitch isn’t as subtle. “We look forward to seeing a lot more of you, Margeaux. Hope you’re ready for that.” He gives me a half-smirk.
I take that as my exit cue because I cannot handle more good news right now. I’m practically jumping with energy, forgetting how tired I was just minutes ago.
“Alright. Think you’ve earned the rest of the day off,” Dahlia says, giving me a big hug.
She’s like the older sister I never had.
I give her a big hug back, knowing she can handle all the strength I’m putting into it.
“You better be ready to hit the ring hard tomorrow.
The final showdown match is coming up, and we need to make sure you and all the girls are ready.
I say goodbye to her and Ashleigh, who hustles to the parking lot to drive back to her office. I swear, that woman never stops. I think she’d go even crazier if her day wasn’t busy. It’s like she’s an adrenaline junkie, and a jam-packed calendar is her equivalent to bungee jumping.
I dig in my bag as I stride over to my car.
The list of names I need to call is so long right now.
I can’t remember the last time I had this many people I wanted to reach out to and share news about my life.
I want to call Jacky and tell him that I made it back safely and that I’m ready to hit the ground running with training.
I want to call Zoey and thank her for reaching out to my legal team and coming to my defense.
I want to call Jazz and tell her that I’ve gotten everything but written notice that I’m getting a permanent contract.
I even want to call Mom and Dad and just say hi.
Spending a couple of days with them has me missing them a little.
My fingers have decided for me and Jon’s name is already lighting up my screen.
He ignores my voice call and calls me back with a video chat request. I accept immediately.
“There’s that beautiful face,” he says, smiling as he paces through the hospital. Blushing. This guy has me blushing. I’m so smitten for Doc.
“Looks like you’re busy at work,” I say, needing to take the attention off me.
“Not too busy to say hi to you.” Fuck. He’s such a dorky, but smooth talker. It’s got my heart doing somersaults.
I manage to gather my thoughts and remember why I called him. “Do you have a few minutes to chat? I have news.”
I watch the background shift from the hospital to the main street the hospital is on. He takes a seat on a dark green bench beside an apple tree. A ripe, red apple dangles above him. I roll my eyes at the kookiness that is Paramount.
“What’s the news, Beautiful?”