Oh, God. No. Please don’t. He did it. He really did it. He took a swing at that guy. Jesus H. Christ.

I can barely watch the game. Jennifer is over at my house and her eyes are completely open. She’s got a big smile on her face and I swear I’m going to slap her. “Do not laugh right now,” I say. “Or I’ll kill you.”

“I’m sorry.” She starts laughing. “But this is insanely entertaining. Seriously, I told you yesterday. You need to just quit. I’ll get you a job in the entertainment business.”

“Stop,” I groan. “Why is he doing this to me?” He just keeps slamming his fist down on the guy. He breaks out of security’s grasp and goes for more. He even flips off the cameras from behind his back. This is great. Just great.

“He’s not doing this to you,” Jennifer says. “He’s doing this because it’s who he is. He loves the attention. And, shit, I love it, so it must be working.”

“Yeah, well, the league is not going to love it. And I’m going to have them, the networks, and Joseph on my ass all fucking day about it.” I glance at my phone, which has started vibrating uncontrollably. Joseph and a whole host of other executive types are blasting my phone. I don’t even answer. “I just can’t deal with this right now.”

“Well, I think he’s hot,” Jennifer smiles and winks at me.

“Don’t,” I tell her. “I can’t deal with your shit either.”

“I’m serious!” she laughs. “He’s a totally rough and tumble type of guy. I bet he eats pussy real good.”

“Ew, just stop!” I laugh. “Enough with the sex shit.”

“Why are you such prude?” she asks.

“I am not a prude,” I tell her. “I just don’t want to hear about how sexy my insane client is right now. He’s not sexy. He’s an asshole.”

“Assholes are totally sexy and I want to sit all over his face,” she says. “Seriously, I know he can ride a gal to the moon and back.”

To the moon and back? Who is this woman? The images that flash in my head are something else. She’s right sometimes, but this is my ex we’re talking about. This is my high school sweetheart, turned worst piece-of-shit.

“You do realize I was supposed to marry this guy, right?” I ask her, creasing my eyes.

“Yeah,” she laughs. “And live happily ever after, right? Come on, babe. You were like 17 when all of that happened. It was more than a decade ago. Now look at you. You’re doing great.”

“Right. Great.” I shake my head. “I have to make this idiot look like a changed man by the Super Bowl. This should be interesting.”

“Sounds fun,” she shrugs. “Anyway, I have more important things to do right now than talk about this all day.”

“Like what? I thought you weren’t working today,” I say.

“Yeah, exactly,” she smiles, pushing her butt out. “I’ve got a date with a very nice man. He’s a producer. He just did all of those Manic Prowler movies. You know, the really gory slasher type films.”

“Um, be careful,” I laugh. “I don’t want to wake up to you on the news.”

“If I don’t text you tomorrow, just assume I’m dead,” she says.

Jennifer gets off of the couch and gives me a hug. When she’s gone, I’m all alone in my house, in this forest that I now find myself living in. I immediately call Joseph.

“Fix this,” he says without giving me any time to say anything in my defense. “Fix it now.”

“Joseph, I told you. I told you I didn’t want any part in this shit,” I tell him. “Jackson is going to ruin his career. It’s a fact. I’ve seen players do this before and it never works out well.”

“Jackson just needs a little guidance. The coach is on him for that,” he reassures me. “What he really needs is a good public relations person to make him look good.”

“I’ll do my best. I’ll call the Sports Network and have him go on. He’ll do an interview and he’ll get a chance to explain himself. I’ll coach him on what to say. That’s about all I can do right now. Is he suspended? I assume he is.” I sigh loudly and close my eyes. This is too much work, dammit.

“Good,” he says. “And yeah, he’s suspended for a game, but that’s it. He still has time to redeem himself in the public eye. I want you to dig deeper after this, Fiona. I want you to find some information about his past. He grew up poor in Arizona, right? You both went to the same school. Have him open up to you about it and we can run a big spread in Time. Anyway, I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

He hangs up the phone and I have no chance to argue. Dig deep. I don’t need to. We were in love. I know a lot already. I know his mom used to live in the trailer park a few miles away from the school. I know he used to have to beg for rides to classes. I know that he was lucky as hell to have football and that his dad beat him almost every damn day.

It’s stuff we shouldn’t bring to light. It’s stuff we, in the media, shouldn’t obsess over, just because it brings us good ratings. But this is my job and this is what the world wants out of stars. They want to own as many pieces of them as they can, to chew them up and spit them out.

Shit, what do I care? Jackson is an asshole, even more so than the consumers waiting to take a bite out of him. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. I have to keep telling myself that. I don’t care.

I get on my laptop, contact all the relevant people at the Sports Network, and check my phone when I’m finished. Shit. At least four hours have passed. What the hell have I been doing all this time? That’s when I hear the knock coming from my door.

Idiotically, I don’t check who it is, and I just open the door. My stomach turns when I see Jackson standing right in front of me, complete with that cocky smile of his. “Miss me?” he asks. I slam the door in his face.

He knocks again and I’m forced to open the door if I don’t want my door falling off its hinges. “What do you want, Jackson?” I ask him. He’s still smiling.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in to your new place?” he asks, walking in on his own accord. “It’s lovely, really. You’re doing so well, despite the circumstances.”

I close the door and groan. “I wish I could say the same for you, Jackson,” I say. “Instead, you’re fucking everything up for me. One week in and I have to deal with your shit.”

“Did you watch the game? If you did, you’d know that was a cheap shot. I had to swing back. It was practically self-defense,” he says, opening my fridge. He closes it when he sees that there’s no beer in it.

“Practically. Right,” I scoff. “What do you want? Seriously, I have things to do.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I thought we could hang out. It’ll be like old times.”

Is he really going to bring those days up? He should know how hurt I was then. “I’d rather not,” I say, feeling my heart rate quicken to an incredible pace. “In case you don’t remember, you broke my heart.”

“I know I did,” he says, turning serious for a second. “And I never got a chance to apologize, so I’m doing it right now. I’m sorry. There. I said it.”

“Great, can you leave now?” I ask. I’m serious too. I don’t know what he’s doing in my house.

He sits down on my couch and spreads his arms across the back end. “Alright, let me be serious for a second,” he says.

“I would love that actually,” I tell him.

“We need to fix what happened today,” he says. “I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t’ve done it. Now I have to sit out the whole fucking Arizona game. That’s our home state, Fi. My mom was going to go to that game.”

“Yeah, well.” I sigh. “You dug your own grave, Jackson. I’m not your nanny. I can’t just fix every wrong you do.”

“Fine. I’m not even asking you to do that,” he says, though that’s exactly what he’s asking me to do. “But, just this one time, please. Help me with this. I want to go to the Super Bowl. I want to make my ma proud of me.”

For the first time, Jackson is owning up to his bullshit. It’s like looking at someone for the first time. “You’re going on Sports Network. You’re going to do an interview and you’re going to explain yourself. I’ll tell you everything you need to say. If you listen to me, everything will be just fine. Luckily, sports fans have seen asshole players before. But the people who live for the game, don’t live for the theatrics. So cut that shit out.”

“Got it.” He sighs and stands up. “Look, I’m thirsty. I could use a beer or a few shots. You game?”

I’m hesitant. A drink might be nice right about now, but I don’t want to get involved with a guy like Jackson ever again. I want to keep my distance as much as possible, on the off chance he ever wants to mess up my life again. He sees my hesitation. “Come on. I know you want to. It’ll be fine. I won’t be a dick, or whatever you think I am normally.”

“You are a dick,” I say. “But a drink sounds fantastic right about now. I’m so stressed with work stuff. I probably do need a break.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” He puts his hand up for a high five. When I don’t give him one, he smacks my butt firmly. “It’s a date.”

“It’s not a date,” I tell him, as firmly as his butt slap. My face is bright red with embarrassment. “And don’t ever touch my ass again. Seriously.” I can already tell this is doomed. My career is beyond fucked if he keeps screwing up. I like his new “goody-goody” attitude, but can it really last? I’m sure I’ll have that answer soon enough.