Second Chance Scandal

“Actually, I do know what’s best for you in terms of your career and public persona, or I wouldn’t be here. Your agent called me, not the other way around, Jax, so let’s make that crystal clear.”

“All you’ve accomplished is to further piss me off. If that was your game plan, then you’ve succeeded.”

“Then how about I talk to you in terms you understand?”

“By all means”—I gestured to her—“continue on your delusional theory on what a wife can do for me.”

“You know how to throw a touchdown. Well, I know how to play defense, and right now you need to show the world that you’re trading for a team that is not only your hometown, but also where your fiancée lives.”

“So now this mystery woman is my fiancée?”

“Yes, we can go two routes. The first, you get married in a big ceremony where your fans feel like they’re part of your special day or the second, you elope, and we leak pictures of your nuptials along with your love story that will have your fans chomping at the bit for every detail that they forget your ‘quote, unquote’, traitor status.”

“My fanbase is men, Red. They don’t give a fuck about fairy tales. The only happily ever after they want from me is to win the Superbowl for them.”

She smirked while pulling out what looked like a spreadsheet with graphs from her bag.

“Quite the contrary, Jax. Yes, your primary fanbase is men, as you see here on this bar.” She pointed to it. “But look at the bar right next to it.”

I did, shocked at what I was seeing. “This can’t be real?”

“Oh, come on, Jax. You can’t be surprised that women love you just as much as their husbands or boyfriends do. You’re easy on the eyes, and your notorious playboy reputation has bad boy written all over it. You’re literally a book boyfriend to women who spend most of their Sundays reading while their significant others watch you do what you do best on their screens. You’re on their televisions once a week for five months out of the year, if you’re not in the playoffs, and let’s face it, you’re Jax Colton—you’re always in the playoffs.”

I shook my head, unable to process what was happening fast enough to believe this was suddenly my reality.

“This can’t be right.”

“It is,” Caleb intervened. “I pulled these stats for her this morning after the news broke out, and I called her to do damage control. She flew out immediately.”

“Numbers don’t lie,” Autumn boasted. “I know football is the love of your life. It’s been that way since I first met you when I was a kid. I’m not asking you to stay married forever. Divorces happen every day, and I already have a plan of action for when that time comes.”

“So you’re saying I need a fake fiancée, who will become my fake wife, for our fake marriage?”

“It will only be fake to you, not the public. Your marriage license will be real in case reporters pull it for their ten-page spreads on your nuptials. I have a list of the best journalists I’ll be reaching out to, so they can break the news internationally. This is a foolproof plan, Jax. Your love story will override your trading. If your male fanbase is reluctant to forgive you, your female fanbase will convince them to. They’ll welcome you back with open arms for Sunday night football. After the season is over and you’ve won the Super Bowl, we can hit them with your divorce.”

“The season? I only have to be married for half a year?”

“Give or take.”

I arched an eyebrow. I didn’t know what was crazier: what she was planning, or the fact that I was considering it.

“After you win the Super Bowl with the team that no one saw coming, we can begin the steps of your imploding divorce. Where, of course, we will play the heartbroken card. We’ll work the angle of you being a diehard workaholic and football will always remain your number one priority. You’ve sacrificed your marriage and the love of your life for your devotion to the game. Again, Jax Colton will come out on top, and from what I hear, it’s your favorite position.” She wittingly smiled, allowing her words to sink in. “Now how about that for some action?”

I cocked my head to the side, thinking.

“Do you need more action?” she baited. “How about all the endorsements you will get from your marriage and divorce? Since I’m not only fixing your traitor narrative, but I’m also making you a much richer man. To me,” she pointed to herself, “that sounds like a damn good game plan.”

“It sounds far-fetched to me.”

“Why? People want to see love flourish. They want to believe that it exists. That if it’s possible to tame you, the eternal bachelor, then it’s possible to tame any man. Women want the hope, the excuses to keep screwing the guy who won’t ever settle down with them. The one who plays the game, the man who fucks them over time and time again. They want to believe that love can conquer all. It’s truly that simple.”

“Simple isn’t the word I’d use to describe what you want me to do.”

“I know. I didn’t say this was going to be easy on your part, but think of it as a role you’re playing for a movie or a commercial.”

“I’m an athlete, not an actor.”

“Well, the whole world’s a stage, Jax.”