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Who do you think was the first man to come over to Nailers Stadium and congratulate me in person after I bought the team? Who do you think fawned over my every word in my office before inviting me to dinner?
That’s right. AJ Ledoux.
I saw right through that asshole. I let him down gently, but for a man like AJ - who thinks he has power over masses but all has is an illusion, my turning him down did a lot to pierce his bubble.
He’s ignored me after that. He pretended I didn’t exist at the ESPY’s. And he’s tried to question me in every single column, intimating that I’m unfit. AJ is the kind of man who can only dream of fucking me - I understand that's where his frustration is coming from.
Three.
That's the number of weeks since the final sex tape of the three of us was released. Like I said, we had a bye, and then lost one game. We're going into a matchup with the Pittsburgh Pimps with a team that's in disarray. With the central players of our team hounded by the media day and night - there are some days that Coach Karl simply cancels practice or tells Ethan and Colt not to come. In instances like those, the team doesn't have proper cohesion and nothing gets done. The hopes for taking this once bankrupt team and winning the Super Bowl this season are pretty much in the process of becoming pipe dreams.
Fifteen.
This part I can't believe, but it's true. That the number of people I've been with in the past that are coming forward to say that they've slept with me. Not only that, but they're selling lurid details in to the highest bidder amongst the tabloid press. You remember, Barry, or Bill? Whoever it was that I brought home one night that I sent away from my apartment the day I met Colt and Ethan? AJ had the Times of New York just buy his story. I read the whole thing - 5,000 words- where Barry basically stated my favorite sexual positions. He told the world how I liked being on top. According to him, I “desperate shuck myself like some whore on a man until I achieve my orgasm”. And then afterwards, how much I liked it doggiestyle. And as he was about to cum, how badly I wanted him to cum on my lower back. I admit, I love it when guys cum on the small of my back. Your body is very sensitive to the feelings of warm cum right there. Try it sometime after this. Have someone shoot their cum on you right there. It's heavenly. I didn't know that always - my friend Suzy had to teach me.
Seventeen.
That's how many times Colt has tried to contact me. He texts me. I don't answer. He calls. I don't answer. He sends me emails and I don't answer. But the more and more I think about it, I realize that not answering is a defense mechanism.
But for the first time in my life, I feel lonely without him. And incomplete without Ethan. I need them. I need them both. I resolve today that I'll do better than answer. I'll go see him.
Five.
That's how many minutes long the phone call with Commissioner Horton was today. He just called. For the first time, I felt fear.
"Julianna," he said, breathing deeply. Despite everything that's happened, he's been patient. "Fix this."
"I'm trying, Bo," I said, thinking of all the different ways I could do it.
"Well, try better. You and those two fuck-ups are becoming all anyone talks about when they say NFL," he told me. "I'm going to put you in touch with a lawyer - J. Henry Edgar - he'll help you navigate through this."
I'll take anything at this point, but I don't need his lawyer. I know what the lawyer will advise me to do. Throw Ethan or Colt - or both of them - under the bus, cut my losses, and preserve my own reputation. I can't do that to the two men I care about. The two men I love. I tell him that I can manage on my own.
"I'm giving you two weeks to fix this, Julianna," Commissioner Horton tells me as he gets ready to hang up. "Before I come in with my steamroller and decide to fire everyone and start over."
Two weeks to fix a problem that won't go away. That is staying because it's being perpetuated by a man who hates seeing powerful women succeed.
I need to think of something. And I need to think of that something really fast.
Julianna
I stare at the placard on his desk. It reads "J. Henry Edgar, Attorney at Law." The man sitting behind the mahogany table top taps his pen against the wood and flips through pages of documentation. He is in his 50s and has a smoker's cough, but he still has a head full of hair. You can tell he takes great pride in it. It is peppered with grey, and he slicks it back in what appears to be one, big brushstroke. He is a round man—no, the word round doesn't even begin to describe him. His girth is so profound that he doesn't seem to have a neck, just a head sitting on top of shoulders. Supposedly, he's the best lawyer money can buy. I hope that's true because at $500 an hour, he better be the best.
I sit in a dark brown leather chair facing Mr. Edgar's desk. The leather is stiff and shiny and my gaze rests on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves behind him—all filled with old, leather bound tomes. Does he even use those books? I wonder. Isn't everything digital these days? I think that maybe the books are there for decorative purposes and that he probably uses Google like the rest of us. At least I hope he does.
"So, tell me. What would you like to see to evaluate my case?" I ask, growing impatient. I want to speed things up. With so much on my mind, I am having a hard time sitting still. I am not sure how long I am able to sit in this dark office. I want to go for a long run through the city to clear my mind.
He doesn't bother lifting his gaze from the documents. "I think I have everything that I need to see," he says, stifling a cough. "Ms. Heaton, given your history, I'm afraid to say that this won't be easy."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, for starters, the video footage leaked to the media captures you fully engaged in sexual relations with these two men whom you have professional, working relationships with."
"Here's what I want to know, Mr. Edgar. What percentage of your practice is in the area of expertise that I need? Because right now, you're not telling me anything that I don't already know, and I feel like I might be wasting my time."
"I assure you—"
"Spare me the bullshit! Actions speak louder than words. And I need results. Right now I have an NFL team in disarray and a media shit storm that is out for my blood. So cut to the chase. How long will it take to bring this matter to a favorable conclusion?"
