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But I was bigger than her. And I definitely looked like the bigger jackass in this scenario.
Christ.
My guts twisted right back up, and that all too familiar tightness in my chest returned.
The only thing I could be grateful for was there was zero audio. Nobody could hear what we said.
Not that it mattered all that much. My body language and facial expressions told my feelings fairly accurately.
“Well, well, well,” Marco said with his hands together. He stared grimly into the camera. “It looks like Cash is definitely still carrying a flame for Jillian. As he stated last week. And now, he’s taking it out on her. What do you think, Christina?” He turned and set his thumb and forefinger on his chin as though he were pondering something serious.
Fuck me.
Christina shrugged and let out a sigh. “Look, Marco, as I’ve said many times before—” she inhaled and looked out at the audience, “we don’t know what goes on behind closed doors. And we don’t know what precipitated this argument. There’s no context here whatsoever.”
Marco’s head tilted and he took a step back. “You can’t see the context here, Christina? Because I see a lot of it. Jillian is trying to be kind to Cash—and he’s yelling at her.”
They spoke back and forth for a couple more minutes—but I’d already tuned out.
This was a complete and utter disaster. Explaining this away was going to be impossible.
Or more like, explaining this in a way that didn’t make me look like an absolute dick—was impossible.
Fuck.
7
Cash
Called to supper.
That was what the email from the owners said.
Everyone knew that meant I was about to be reprimanded by the highest tier of this team.
Angelique and Marcel.
At their mansion.
Oh, and I was the only one invited.
From what I could tell, anyway. No one else left when I did. And no one talked about it at practice today.
Not that the guys were being all that friendly to me since the show aired last night.
Trey and Beau had come over to my place after nine o’clock. In Trey’s words, they wanted to know, “What the fuck that was all about?”
Beau added in, “We know you two have a—past. But man, you can’t go talking to Jillian like that. She’s our friend.”
There was no way out of this mess. I looked like a dick.
Yeah, I’d acted like one.
But Jillian had deserved it—cornering me, and asking me about what—what I’d said on national fucking TV.
She should have left it alone.
She’d kicked me out of her life—again. And now, she needed to let sleeping dogs lie.
