by Aja Cole
“Don’t you mean two? Aren’t you seeing that chick from the party last week, and your baby mama?” Chris asks.
“Okay, I’m not seeing my baby mama. We just…kick it sometimes, you know? I got love for the girl, cause she gave me Maya, but I like it better when we just fuck without her crazy ass emotions.” He clarifies. “And this ain’t about me, this is about Jax not picking a single of those girls!”
“Y’all missed the memo? Jax has him a girl. A black girl, at that.” Hardict pipes up from the lockers, and all eyes swing to me as the room quiets.
I rub a hand over the back of my neck, and the guys gather around expectantly.
Don’t ever let anyone tell you that women gossip more than men, because it isn’t true.
“Who is she?”
“Where’d you meet her?”
“She thick?”
“She got a sister?”
“Jaxon?” Everyone peers towards the door and Bea, one of the new interns who works in the practice facility looks flustered. “Uh.” She comes forward, thrusting out a piece of paper. “Someone called for you…”
“Someone I know? Why didn’t they call my cell?”
“She said,” Bea clears her throat, dropping her gaze to the floor. She’s usually a little timid anyway, but this is new. “That idiot, selfish playboy’s phone is going straight to voicemail.” She says in a near whisper.
Well, there’s no doubt who that is.
“Ah, okay. Thanks.” I take the note and she hurries out the door. Unfolding it, I read just an address and a time on it.
“Ooh, a secret message? No name?” Kenny leans over my shoulder and I move away.
“I know who it is.”
“Your new boo thang?” Hardict calls out.
“Welcome to the dark side, Jax. It’s nice over here.” Kenny pats me on the back.
“I’ve talked to black girls before.” I scoff. “Just because you don’t know about it, doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.”
“Well excuse me. I guess we don’t need to give you any pointers on how not to be a cliche white guy then, huh.” Shawn asks.
“You’re white.” I deadpan.
“Yeah, but my wife is black so I automatically have a leg up on you.” He counters. “All of my cliche has been gone for years now. I learn quickly.”
“Okay, I don’t need a lesson. It’s not that hard to not be a creep, even if the rest of you are idiots.” I look around pointedly, and the guys make different rude gestures. “I’ve got somewhere to be, I’ll fill you ladies in on my love life at a later date.”
“Brianna has plans to set you up since you didn’t choose anyone, so you better update us quick.” Hardict warns.
I pick up my bag and make sure I have all my shit, giving them a wave. “Yep, later.” Walking down the hallway, I wonder why Sienna’s finally calling me back.
I’ve been trying to reach her for a few days, but she hasn’t taken my calls or texts so I haven’t gotten a chance to tell her about what I said to that reporter. I figure she’ll probably laugh about it and take me down a few pegs with a few insults about why I better enjoy this fantasy.
Whatever the reason is, it’ll be good to see her. Maybe I can sneak in a kiss before she thinks about it too hard.
The address she gave me is for a high rise apartment building in Atlantic Station, and it takes me about 50 minutes or so to get there from Flowery Branch.
It puts me right on time.
I park my car and eventually make it to the doors of the building, opening them and going inside.
“Hey, can I help you with anything?” A perky blonde pops out from behind the desk, sizing me up and apparently deciding I’m worth her effort.
Too bad I don’t have eyes for her.
I glance at the paper, but there’s no apartment number on it.
“I’m supposed to be meeting someone actually.”
When I say that, her eyes widen and she steps back, sudden disgust on her face.
Well damn, that was quick.
“If you go there and take that elevator up to the 11th floor, it’s number 117.” She doesn’t look me in the eye this time, and I feel a little offended. Actually her voice is very…condescending.
Is there something on my face? I sniff my pits as I make it to the elevator and press the button. I definitely showered, I smell clean. Like Old Irish Spring soap, in fact.
“Women are weird.” I mutter, pressing the elevator button and leaning against the wall. When it gets to 11, I walk off and keep an eye on the door numbers. I pause at 117, taking a deep breath.
I finally get to see her. I’m excited but a little nervous too. Did I imagine the way I felt around her? Is she going to tell me she wants to give things a try?
Stop being a little bitch.
Pushing the door open, I peer around it and enter an empty kitchen space. Walking further, I can see large windows and hardwood floors.
Then I see Sienna.
She’s facing a big window with her arms crossed. She has on a gold and blue pattered dress with what looks like small flowers on it, and gold detailing on the neck and hem. Her hair is different though. A lot different.
Instead of long and straight like it was before, it’s a mass of curls around her head. When she finally turns around to face me, I can see it makes her look younger. She’s so damned beautiful. It softens her face, frames those cheeks of hers.
Or it would. If her face wasn’t a tight mask of anger.
“How dare you.” She says, quiet anger in her voice.
Oh, fuck.
I stop in my tracks.
“What did I do?” I ask, cringing.
Instead of saying anything, she just stares at me and I think she’s contemplating if she can hit me or not.
“You put me in a situation today that I’ve never been in once in my entire career, one that I didn’t ask you for and one that I now have to go with or explain away. You’re asking me what you did?” She hisses the last word, and all I feel is regret and a heavy dose of confusion.
“I need you to dumb things down just a little bit more for me, Sienna. What exactly have I done to piss you off this much?”
“Does I like to keep my relationships private sound familiar to you?”
Well, that’s one mystery solved.
“Why are you so mad about that? It’s not like I gave them your name or anything? No one knows who you are.”
“My bosses know who I am, and they know who you are. Imagine my surprise when I got into my office after an already shitty morning and I get called into my bosses office and asked why I didn’t mention to them that I’m dating Jaxon Blake.”
“I..b…” I sputter, scratching my head. “Listen, you can’t blame that on me. How are they sure the picture was you?”
“I saw them the same night, they put two and two together and made fucking four. Now, I would,” She stresses the word, walking towards me, her heels clacking on the wood. “I would have been fine. It was a friendly embrace, we could just be old friends. But to put the cherry on top of the goddamned cake, you opened your big, stupid mouth and said we’re dating.”
“Hey, I didn’t tell you to tell them that it was true.” The words come out of my mouth and I immediately know that it’s a flimsy excuse. I would’ve been better off just shutting up and letting her speak her mind.
Her large brown-green eyes widen, thick lashes blinking incredulously. I’ve really done it now.
“So I was supposed to tell them we aren’t, with you on record, saying we are and have everyone talking behind my back about my drama?” She pushes me and I fall back a step. “You don’t know what it’s like keeping your reputation clear for as long as I have.”
Push.
“You don’t know how hard…”
Push.
“I’ve worked to only have my accomplishments be mine and not credited to anyone else or mentioned with a man.” She pushes me again, this time weaker because I can hear it in
her voice that she’s tearing up. “What happens when everyone else figures it out? When people go digging? I’ll never just be Sienna Davis again. It’ll be, the girl that dated Jaxon Blake.”
“Sienna, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t fix it now, you said what you fucking said and now all I can do is figure out how to work with it.” She wipes her face angrily, turning away from me.
I feel like shit. When she says the reasons she’s mad, it’s not even something I can justify or argue with. I just didn’t realize.
“So, since you want to make choices for people without consulting them or thinking about the ramifications, you’re about to get some new rules too.” Her spine is stick straight, and her voice is hard.
“Your social media? It’s mine now. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat - all of it. You post what I say post, when I say post it, how I say post it and I get all of your passwords. You don’t type a letter without my approval.”
I blanche. “Okay, that seems a little bit extreme.”
She whips around and raises an eyebrow, looking every bit resolute and in-control.
“Ask me if I care.”
Of course, I keep my mouth shit.
“This isn’t a relationship. You’re my bitch, now. You do what I say, when I say it. You don’t make a move without running it by me first, are we clear? No girls, no parties, no bullshit. Don’t mention me in press unless I say so. You’re not going to make me look like one of those stupid athlete girlfriends that’s a pitiful laughingstock.”
Nowhere is the playful Sienna that threw that ball back and forth with me, or the one that sank into my kiss like she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
I’ve fucked up, and I’ve fucked up bad.
“I’m going to assume your silence means we’re clear. I won’t be at the Super Bowl, I have to travel. You’ve got the next week to make sure there’s no shit in your back yard.” She turns from the window and brushes past me, picking up her purse from the kitchen island.
She stops with her hand on the door, and I just wish she’d look at me again.
“Goodbye, Mr. Blake.” She says softly. “You better prepare to feel like everything you’ve built is in question, because that’s exactly how you’ve made me feel.”
With that, she opens the door and slams it behind her, making me wince.
I’ve picked the wrong goddamned battle.
Sienna
“Will you be my date to the Honors?”
The text came in a few hours ago, and I just stare at it now, sipping from my wine glass and setting it down on the nifty bathtub tray I picked up.
Currently, it’s holding candles, my iPad, a glass of wine, and my phone. I can’t believe I never got one sooner.
Will I be his date to the honors? The nerve. Like I’m going to let him take anyone else.
I’ve been on a staunch campaign to not speak to him, because I’m still slightly angry with him, as irrational as it might be.
Honestly, when I had time to cool down about it, I realized he probably didn’t do it to spite me or to embarrass me.
I wouldn’t know his full reasoning because I haven’t let him explain.
I have made him send me everything he wants to post, say, respond to etc. and have me approve or not approve it before he posts.
Is it ridiculous? Yes. Does it feel good for me? Also, yes. For a man who doesn’t think he needs anyones approval for anything, it must feel absolutely terrible to him to have to run his actions by me.
He posted a tweet without my approval once and only once in this past week, and I locked him out of his account for two days.
It was sweet, sweet revenge.
I also have the number of Malcolm, his driver and bodyguard when he’s not doing team stuff, and per my instructions to Jaxon, he keeps me appraised of his whereabouts.
It’s truly a small part of my day to make sure I have Jaxon’s completely in my hands.
I haven’t added anything to his schedule because I know the game is in two days and they’re doing a lot with the team and practicing.
After the season ends? Oh, he’s going to really wish he’d kept his mouth shut.
After a little more debating with myself, I type my answer into the phone and press send. Putting it face down, I pick up my wine again and press play on my iPad, sinking into the bubbles a little more.
I’m catching up on this great show called Revenge.
There’s a knock on the door and I pop up from where I’m laying on the couch, putting my iPad aside. I don’t know what time it is, I’ve been bingeing since I got home from work. They gave us Friday, Saturday and Sunday off since it’s championship weekend.
I’m still planning on traveling early Sunday, but I’m grateful for the downtime. It’s been a busy time making sure everything’s in place. Fan booths, ambassador appearances, press releases and strategic social media. We have teams for every component, but I try to keep my hand in a little bit of everything to make sure the brand is staying cohesive.
Padding to the door and pulling my robe tighter around me, I look through the peephole.
“Who is it?”
“I have a delivery from the front desk for you, ma’am.” The man puts his ID badge to the door and it’s one I recognize after I check against his face, so I open the door. This place really has good security measures.
From the side of the door, he picks up the boxes and I move aside so he can bring them in.
I haven’t ordered anything lately, so I have no idea what it could be.
The first box is large, about a 2 foot square with a thin gold ribbon tied around on. The second is thicker but not as big, like a shoe box. The third is flatter, but about the same size as the first box.
“Thank you.” I direct him to set it on the table in lounge area and he does, leaving after. I shake each box, listening for anything suspicious or rattling, but I don’t hear anything. I also don’t think I have any enemies, so it should be fairly safe.
Unless Jaxon is really tired of this approval game and has decided to get rid of me for good.
I’m tugging on the gold string when there’s a knock on the door again.
“I’m popular tonight.” I murmur, sighing and knotting my robe again. I’m really not fit for company. Maybe the delivery guy forgot to bring something else in.
Operating on that assumption, I open the door again without looking this time.
“Hey, did you f—.” I stop, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t remember inviting you over.”
Instead of deferring to me like he has been the past week, he rolls his eyes and steps into my place, making me step back as he nearly slams it closed.
“You’ve had your fun, I’m over it.”
“I don’t care if you’re over it, I’m still having fun. You can see yourself out.” I keep a healthy distance from him and sit on the couch, hunching a little because I’m very aware that I’m not wearing a bra and my breasts aren’t exactly invisible.
“Sienna, maybe if you gave me a chance to explain, you’d stop being so pissed off.”
“You’re assuming that’d have any bearing on my anger. Whether I know what was going through your harebrained mind or not, the situation is still what it is.”
“I need a truce, because I can’t keep doing this. So pick another damn punishment, or just forgive me.”
“Well door 2 isn’t even on the radar, so you can forget that. Why are you still here?”
It is entirely possible that I’m being a little childish, but I don’t like the way I’ve felt off my game since that night with him. This isn’t just my anger at him, it’s my anger at myself too. Since I was 16, I’ve been laser focused on my career and building an amazing foundation for myself and hitting my goals.
I’ve lapsed a few times, but never like this. I’ve never felt like this and I’m ill equipped to deal with it.
Instead of leaving, he drops on the couch next to me and I side-eye him. He’s scruffy today. More t
han a five o’clock shadow, hair tousled, and wearing those three stripe Adidas track pants and a long sleeve Adidas shirt. It looks like he rolled right out of bed.
Maybe even someone else’s bed.
That thought really irks me.
“What’s really your problem? Lay it all out for me.”
“I told you exactly what my problem is, it’s not my fault if you weren’t listening.”
“That’s not it though, so stop the bullshit.” His voice is deep and annoyed.
When I ignore him and pick up a the largest box from the table, he sighs and sits back, spreading his arms on the couch.
I can deal with him sitting in silence.
I take off the top of the black box and move aside the airy black tissue paper, exhaling low when I see sheer black fabric before anything else. Standing, I unfold the fabric completely, and a wash of black falls to the floor.
“Holy shit.” I breathe. The dress is long sleeved, but the sleeves are sheer with light lace detailing. That sheerness is all over the dress, with skin colored nude lining the top, until the high waist, then it drops to all black. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever held in my hands. It’s not too flashy, but it’s not boring. It’s elegant, but still fun.
“Do you like it?” Jax asks quietly, and I swing my head to him. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees and staring hard at me. “I told them how I see you, and when they sent a picture back, I immediately knew it was the one.”
It takes everything I have, but I gently fold the dress back into the box and fold the tissue paper back over it. I put the top back onto it, and stack the other two boxes atop of it, then I push them towards him.
“You can’t buy me. Maybe other women are impressed by your thoughtfulness, but I’m not.” I leave the living room and go to the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it before I slide down and sit on the floor with my back to the wood.
For some strange reason, I feel a tear welling up in my eyes and I blink it away furiously.
It was a really, really gorgeous dress. And I can’t imagine what the shoes looked like, oh god. Was the third box jewelry or lingerie? You’d need the right undergarments for that dress, no doubt.
