Chapter 7 – Icing the Pucke #2
Before I can open my mouth, Larry cuts in again.
“Gerald, calm down before we have to call you an ambulance.” He turns to me.
“Jaxson, we need you to clean up your act.
No more flirting with or touching fans in public.
What you do in your private life is your business, but remember, your contract includes a morality clause tied to your professional image.
You've got family-oriented endorsements riding on that. Once this season ends, your contract can be renegotiated for next year. Those endorsements can be reassigned then, too. So, knock it off and lay low for now. ”
I try to control my anger and not lash out.
They're right. I thought I'd been careful, even though I'd indulged a little too much.
Still, the paparazzi caught me off guard with that photo.
We were about to walk into my motel room when it was taken, so it could've been much worse.
If that photo had shown the truth, I wouldn't be sitting here under fire. I'd be toast.
“What's our next step?” Coach sighs.
“Damage control,” Charlotte states.
“I'm still in talks with TrueNorth. They're on the verge of bailing,” Gerald growls.
“Just one more screw-up like this and I won't be able to salvage it.
I might not be able to anyway. The other sponsors are also getting nervous, but not to the same extent as TrueNorth.
They have a lot riding on this with their big charity bash at the end of the season.
So, keep your head down and don't make any more waves.
What you do in your personal life is yours, but don't let it spill into the public eye.”
“I'll be more careful,” I agree, taking a deep breath.
“There's always Iron Stud,” Larry mutters sarcastically under his breath. “What? Too soon?” He throws his arms out in mock innocence.
“Not funny, Larry,” Coach groans .
“And, Jaxson,” Charlotte begins, “have your wife come to some of your games, at least until this blows over. Make a few social appearances together, too, so the paparazzi can get photos. It'll help repair some of the damage.”
“If she's even speaking to him right now,” Coach grumbles.
“She called regularly, leaving messages for him at the beginning of the season because he wasn't picking up for her.
Now, we can't get her to answer. My assistant Libby tried to contact her about next month's holiday party, but she hasn't returned our calls.”
“Sounds like your marriage is circling the drain, as well, Jaxson,” Gerald snarks. “Is she taking your calls?”
“I—I don't know. I haven't called her recently.”
“Is she calling you?” Charlotte asks.
“No… no.” I take out my phone and scroll through the call logs.
Just how long has it been?
“No… No,” I repeat, a little concerned as I realize Melly's name isn't anywhere on my call list. That's… odd.
Hmm… she really hasn’t called in a while.
My chest tightens with concern, but then I recall.
Right. The texts .
I swipe through our messages. Yep, there they are—my automated morning texts. I love the app that lets me send those out.
Me: Morning, Melly. Love you.
Melly: Morning, J. You too.
I nod, look up at everyone gathered around me, and smile. “But we text daily.” I hold up the phone like a proud parent. “See?”
Charlotte takes my phone and scrolls through the thread, frowning. “They're all the same, Jaxson,” she points out. "Every text you've sent, and every one she's sent back, is identical. Are you using an automated messaging app?"
“What?” I grab the phone and flick through the thread myself, staring at the same messages repeated over and over. I never really checked them before, so I hadn't noticed. But she's right. Melly's replies seem automated, too.
“When's the last time you actually spoke to her?” Larry presses.
I brush off my sudden unease. “I don't know. A while ago. Most likely before the season started.”
“October?” Charlotte asks incredulously .
“Probably more like September,” I admit, pushing my concerns aside once again as I slip my phone into my pocket.
“Geez.” Gerald drops his head and rubs his face. “You're in trouble. I hope we can keep a lid on things until the season ends, and your endorsements can be reassigned.”
“It's fine,” I say confidently, waving my hand. “I love my wife, and she loves me. We talked about everything, and she agreed to my terms.”
“Oh, shite! Your terms?” Charlotte curses. “I thought you said that your open marriage agreement was mutual?”
“Yeah, she fought it for a few months, but when she understood how much I wanted it, she gave in.”
“Gave in?” Charlotte pales. “That's far from mutual.”
Thick with tension, the room falls deathly silent. The coach's mouth drops open. Larry, who's never short of burning sarcasm in any situation, lowers his head to the table and starts banging it quietly. Gerald is turning an unsettling shade of purple yet again.
I lean back in my chair, hands laced behind my head, feeling pretty confident. Melly eventually saw things my way. Even though the texts sound a little rote, I shrug off the uneasy feeling in my gut. I'm not worried.
I scan the room, expecting the tension to ease, but they're all still staring at me like I've grown an extra head or something.
Standing to the side, Charlotte swallows hard, her throat working as if she's forcing the words out. “Jaxson, did you make your wife agree to an open marriage?”
I shake my head, a small, slightly smug smile tugging at my lips. “No, of course not.”
Everyone exhales at once, a shared sigh of relief easing the tension in the room.
“Sure, I might've threatened divorce if we couldn't make it work, but I didn't force her into it. She knew what was at stake and gave in,” I continue with a laugh.
Charlotte breaks the silence that follows. “Wait... gave in... divorce?” Her tone climbs with each word until she squeaks out the last one.
I grin, feeling like the cat that got the cream. “When I told her it was open marriage or divorce, she couldn't say yes fast enough. She loves me.”
Relief drains from the room with their collective gasp .
Charlotte stares at me like I didn't just steal the cream but also kidnapped the cat. Coach is gaping again and appears to be mouth breathing… or wheezing. Larry's head-thumping has reached a fevered pitch. Gerald's turning the deepest shade of violet yet, and his eyes are practically bulging.
Is he even still breathing? Geez, he needs to relax.
Meanwhile, I sit here wondering what their problem is. I've got this under control. Melly loves me, and I love her. I can't stress that enough. She's been mine since high school, my sweetheart, my soulmate. That's never going to change.
I don't care what the gossip rags say. Melly isn't a na?ve little girl.
She knows exactly what I want and what's going on.
She won't let any of this affect us. Sure, I need to be more discreet to avoid embarrassing her, but she'll never leave me.
She never wanted this open marriage, and she's probably at home right now, not out with other guys. She's too devoted to me.
I realize I've neglected her a bit, but we text every day.
I glance at my cell. Well… I have the automatic texting, but she replies.
She knows how busy I am. I start to wonder how she might feel about that newspaper article, but I push the thought away.
She doesn't read th ose tabloids. If she did, she'd brush it off, knowing we have our arrangement.
I snap out of my thoughts, shaking my head to clear it and focus. Every pair of eyes in the room is locked on me, tense and accusing. No one moves or speaks for a beat, then the room erupts.
“Jaxson!” It appears Charlotte isn't done with me yet, so I shift my attention to her.
Eyes wide, mouth agape, she shakes her head in disbelief.
“Of all the idiotic things… forcing your wife into an open marriage by threatening divorce is the height of stupidity!” she spits.
“Do you seriously think that's going to work?”
“It did, didn't it?” I grin.
“Have you ever heard the expression, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned ?”
“No?”
“You've made a mess of everything. This could cost you your marriage.”
“No, it won't,” I scoff. “My marriage is fine.”
Suddenly, Coach jolts out of his stupor. He jumps to his feet, barking orders.
“Libby,” he shouts at his assistant, nearly frantic, “get in touch with Jaxson's wife. Now.”
Libby rushes into the room, fumbling with her phone. “What should I say to her? ”
“Just check in. Feel her out. See how she's doing!”
“O—okay,” she stammers, already dialing.
“Send her flowers!” he calls out. “A big bouquet from us and another from Jaxson.”
“Flowers… right,” she repeats, jotting notes on her pad with the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder.
“And chocolates,” he insists. “And whatever else you can think of that might help Jaxson smooth things over with her.”
I watch, still puzzled by all the fuss. They're clearly overthinking things.
All this time, Larry has been typing furiously on his laptop.
“I'll start checking into moving Jaxson's endorsements to Cranson.
He's a family man, and his wife just had a baby.
That'll work.” A relieved smile crosses his face.
“We might be able to salvage this if we act quickly, but negotiating with another player could take months, and we don't have that kind of time.” He pauses, wiping sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Listen, guys, it's okay. Melly is okay. Our marriage is stable. There's no need to pull my endorsements. I'll be more discreet.” I throw up my hands, hoping to calm them down. I don't want to lose my contracts.
Charlotte's anger is on the verge of boiling over, but she needs to chill. She doesn't get it. I know I'm right. I know my wife and what she needs.
Libby interrupts. “Mrs. Kingston isn't answering her phone, and the mailbox is full.”
Then, without warning, Gerald crumples to the floor. One minute, he's standing there, nearly foaming at the mouth, his face that deep shade of purple. Next, he's out cold, convulsing on the beige carpet. Every person in the room freezes, stunned.
Libby, in the middle of ordering flowers, drops her phone. I watch, still in shock, as Coach yells at her to call an ambulance.
Note to self: My PR team is more fragile than my marriage. Next time we talk, I'll remind Gerald to stay seated, or I'll bring smelling salts.