“I think this is the first chance we’ve had to really speak together,” Jess finally spoke up, keeping her eyes locked onto the road.
“That implies that we’ve been speaking,” I observed, glancing over at her.
A small grin crossed her face.
“He really fucked up this time, didn’t he?” Jess asked.
“Well, he’s in jail…”
“That’s not what I mean,” Jess replied. “With you, I mean. I haven’t seen him so easygoing in years… For him to storm off into the night like this? To get into a fight? Lex has been the center of plenty of scandals, but he hasn’t been in a straight up bar fight since his early career… You two must have been in one hell of an argument.”
“That’s not really your business,” I shrugged.
Even in the darkness, I sensed Jess’s face harden into bitter resolve. “It actually is my business,” she quickly replied. “It’s my job.”
“Your job? You represent him, right? You’re his agent or whatever? So what if we had a little spat?” I told her, challenging her darkened tone with my own. Who the fuck does she think she is, anyway? “Whatever goes on between us is none of your concern, like I said.”
The car screeched to a halt.
“I’m not his agent, Riley. I don’t land him gigs or whatever the fuck you think an agent for an athlete does. I’m his fucking publicist.”
“Publicist?” I asked, creasing my brow. “You’ve been doing an excellent job with that, then. Because a friend of mine spent thirty minutes in Google and pulled up a treasure trove of disaster on your client.”
“Lex Lambert is a World Cup football player,” she told me, staring at me with wide, wild eyes. “He’s one of the best players on the fucking planet of the most popular sport in the entire world. He’s also a loose cannon and a complete fucking prick, and he makes my life a tremendous hell.”
“Then, why do you bother representing him? Is it just because he’s loaded?”
“Because Alexander Lambert saved my life, you nosy little shit,” Jess angrily told me.
“What?” I asked, feeling a sudden burst of shame that I’d turned on him… after he’d rescued me in my time of need.
Jess’s eyes glistened with tears.
“We met while we were both homeless. We relied on each other to survive. When he started pulling himself up and making a name for in the junior leagues, he didn’t for get about me. He immediately pulled me off the streets.
“While he slept on a tiny fucking cot in the den, he insisted that I have a bedroom – with a locking door. He protected me. He never laid a finger on me or asked for anything. He was my best friend… Maybe my only friend. With his help, I followed in his footsteps. I got myself into a good university, and found a career that I love… one that allows me to return the fucking favor.”
We sat in silence for a moment, allowing us to hear the chorus of honks from behind. Muttering something under her breath, Jess finally kicked the car back into drive, and we tore down the roads on our way to where he was imprisoned.
“I had no idea,” I muttered.
“Of course you didn’t,” she snapped. “He’s a good fucking man, even if he’s a complete, unrepentant pain in the ass … If he could just learn to get a grip of himself, he’d have that stupid fucking sponsorship in the bag...”
“I had to find out myself that he’s such a big deal,” I responded. “He lied to me and practically told me that he was a nobody. Why the fuck didn’t he say anything?”
“Because he was supposed to be laying low,” Jess answered through gritted teeth. “And now he’s been arrested in a foreign country for instigating a barroom brawl.” She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Goddammit… I can’t make this one go away.”
“Yeah, why was he arrested?” I thought to ask. “You didn’t say much over the phone earlier…”
Jess glanced at me for a second, before turning back to the road and answering. “When he left your apartment, he found himself a bar with some pool tables. The cops say he attacked somebody.”
“That doesn’t sound like Lex,” I said.
“No… It doesn’t,” Jess replied. “He’s been in a few fights, but never one he started. He’s a lover, not a fighter.”
I shook my head, the tabloid covers flashing through my mind. A lover indeed…
“And you’re the one who fucked up,” Jess added.
“I fucked up?” I spat out, turning to glare at her with every ounce of enmity I could muster. Seriously though – who the fuck does she think she is?
“Yes, you fucked up,” she reiterated. “What, so, you’re upset that he was hiding some things from you, right? Is that it?”
“That’s all the reason I need… and for the record, I still don’t see how it’s any of your goddamn business, publicist or not,” I answered.
It was Jess’s turn to be furious.
“Alright, smartass, did it ever occur to you to question what an obviously rich, well-dressed Englishman was doing without a day job in America?” She asked, glancing over at me.
Before I could respond, she continued:
“He wears tailored handmade Italian suits, plays a little soccer as you’d call it, and he’s just flying under the radar. Here I was, thinking he was completely fucking obvious. I mean… you knew his name. You didn’t bother to look him up? You could have had any of these answers at any point. Hell, did you ever directly ask him who he was and what he did?”
“Why would I have done that? I don’t have any reason to snoop around on the guy,” I answered. “Not until someone else did it for me, not that I asked for the help or anything…”
“So, what, you’re the one woman in the world who wouldn’t be suspicious about any of those details? The man is a sex god, do you think he wouldn’t have a little history? No… You know what I think? I think you were never looking for a real relationship. You were using Lex. You wanted a little fun for the night and you didn’t care who he was. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That man loves you! How do you feel? Did you ever tell him how you really felt? Did you let him know he was nothing but a shag?”
We took a sharp turn, and I braced myself against the armrest on the door.
“Maybe that was what I wanted… But things changed,” I replied, my anger turning to sadness.
“You know, Lex can be a real fucking prick,” Jess said, “but he’s a good guy underneath. You brought that out in him. You were good for him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier. And don’t sit there and pretend you don’t want things to work out. You wouldn’t be coming if you didn’t want to see him.”
“I’m just here for the moral support, and then I’m right the fuck out of here.”
“Seriously?” She tilted her head and glanced over at me.
“I don’t need his money, or his lifestyle.”
We came to a stop, and I realized that we were finally here. Jess killed the engine and turned to me again, her uninterrupted gaze piercing through mine.
“Let’s get one thing straight, you and I. I happen to think that you’re a smart woman with a great head on your shoulders. I know you’re not after his damn money! Do you think I’d have let him go near you if you were some kind of piece of shit gold digger?”
I went silent as the car came
to a stop. While I deliberated on these thoughts, I followed Jess into the station. She opened the door for me, and we walked up to the front desk clerk. With bushy gray hair and a stern face, the clerk seemed faintly familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“I’m here for Alexander Lambert,” Jess confidently informed him. “He should be incarcerated here somewhere for drunken disorderly conduct of some sort.”
The clerk glanced up from his desk.
“British guy, right?”
“That’s the one!” She chirpily smiled
“Right. He won’t be able to leave just yet,” the clerk responded, glancing through a file on his desk. “We’re waiting to see if the young man he assaulted wishes to press charges.”
“I’m sure that an amicable solution can be found,” Jess responded instantly, her smile unwaveringly strong.
“Be that as it may… we still need to keep him here while we finish receiving eyewitness accounts. There’s an officer taking down notes as we speak.”
“May I speak to this kid? I’m sure I can make an arrangement with him to handle this without tying up your valuable time…”
“Afraid not,” the clerk told us. “We haven’t found him yet. We’re interviewing witnesses as we speak.”
“…Virgil?” I asked, letting it all come back to me. “Virgil Higgins, is that you?”
The clerk blinked a few times, and then recognized me. “Riley Ricketts… didn’t expect to see you here. What brings you in here?”
“My boyfriend appears to be in your jail,” I shrugged. “This is his friend, Jess. We’re trying to figure out what to do about this alleged act of his. Is there anything we can do?”
“Nothing outside of wait for a phone call,” the clerk noted hesitantly.
As if on cue, the phone on Virgil’s desk rang, and he paused to answer.
We caught part of a one-sided conversation, although he cupped the receiver in his palm at one point and turned away. Both of us leaned closer to hear, although it was of no use.
He hung up and turned back to us.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day… Detective Donovan has three witnesses that say the other guy threw the first punch, and one of them just backed up Lex’s story that the kid made off with his wallet. We’re gonna go ahead and drop the charges. Your boyfriend is free to go,” Virgil told us. “Now, normally he’d wind up at the back of the list, and get out late morning… but for you, darling, I can expedite him out shortly.”