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Sam coughs as her eyes widen in shock. But how could she be shocked? She invited Jenny Jo on her show, and making shocking statements is what Jenny Jo does.
“Yeah, that’s if she’s truly there for him. I believe she is after seeing them together, but like I said, you never knowhow these things will turn out. She’s beautiful, though,” Sam attempts to regain a small amount of decorum. “Life seems to be great for the young quarterback. Let’s see if he gets to keep this position and woman if Dariel Grant returns and takes his spot.”
With a straight face, Jenny Jo finds the camera and says, “Wayne, if Dariel comes back to take your spot and your girl doesn’t want you anymore, call me.” She holds her hand to her ear as if it’s a phone and chuckles. “But seriously, though, I’m becoming a Wayne Richards fan. I don’t think the coach will bench him when Dariel comes back. He has shown too much talent to go back to the bench. Dariel is injured, and let’s face it, he wasn’t delivering the wins before he got hurt. So, if Wayne doesn’t start for the Washington Saints next year, another team will pick him up, and they will go back to their drought for wins. If Washington knows what’s good for them, they will keep him on the field.”
“I agree with your assessment. Are you sure you aren’t meant to be a sports commentator? Maybe in your next job?” Sam asks.
“I don’t know. We shall see,” Jenny Jo laughs. “I think entertainment is my arena. I love a good gossip story, and people gossip about Wayne, saying his woman is a gold digger. And I don’t know if this is true because he just introduced her yesterday, it’s all alleged.”
“NFL players make millions of dollars. They are all targets for women trying to take their money, so I agree, even though I can’t help but admit I feel like they are a good couple. You could just feel the love just being around them. They are a beautiful couple,” Sam admits.
Jenny Jo gestures again with her hands like it’s a phone. Then, she mouths, “Call me Wayne.”
She’s joking around. At least, I think she is, but this commentary is messy. I pick up my phone to call Leslie and seeall the social media notifications. I have thousands of tags on Twitter and other social media platforms.Shit.
If she, by chance, isn’t paying attention to the news articles or interviews, my social media has blown up, and some of my fans have hunted her social media pages down and are tagging her in the comments. Some offer congratulations, but far too many have fallen for the drivel they’ve read and are calling her a gold digger.
I go out to Google and enter my name. The first article that stops me reads “Wayne Richards to Marry Girl from the Sneaker Store.” The next title is “An Alleged Gold Digger Comes out of Nowhere to Snag Wayne Richards.” The overall sentiment is that Leslie is with me for my money. But the headline that floors me the most is “Wayne and His Loose Girlfriend,Allegedly.” It includes pictures of last night on the dancefloor. Leslie was bent over, rubbing her ass into my crotch, seducing me, and I looked like a man willing to give her everything I own for just a few more minutes of her seduction. This isn’t a lie, but damn. The way the story is spun pisses me off.
I stand up, throw on some clothes, and pick up my phone. My first call goes to my agency to let my agent know about the interview. I informed her about my and Leslie’s decision to go public last week, so she might have some thoughts on how to spin the press. Nancy Sullivan’s voicemail comes onto the line, so I leave her a message.
My next call is to check on Leslie. I pray to God she hasn’t heard anything like the nonsense I just read or heard on the sports channel. I hope she’s eating with Jasmine and not paying attention to the news. Her phone rings nonstop. She’s not answering.
I jump in my truck and head to her and Jasmine’s favorite brunch stop, The Breakfast Spoon. I reach the parking lot and growl when I see her sitting in her car surrounded by paparazzi.She looks frazzled, like she’s been sitting there trying to figure out how to get out of the vehicle without having microphones thrust into her face.
I lean on the horn, and relief enters her eyes when they find mine. I quickly park and jump out. Stalking toward her with a scowl that could scorch a man, I hear one of the reporters saying, "People are saying you’re with Wayne because of his money. Care to comment?”
Another reporter yells, “How did you go from selling shoes to hooking a multimillion-dollar man? That’s very advantageous. Do you want to make a comment?"
Once they realize I’m there, the sea of reporters part and redirect their questions to me. I turn to the reporter that had been tapping on her window and yell, “Get the fuck back! Get away from her car.”
The look I give them causes them to flinch and take a few steps back.
One reporter is bold enough to yell, “So, you’re no longer the most eligible bachelor?”
I respond, “Move!”
Instead of backing off, the reporters pull closer with their microphones in my face. “What do you have to say about the reports that your fiancée is a gold digger?”
“Lies.”
Another asks, “Will your relationship affect your game?”
“Yes, it makes me better.”
Excited by my few short replies, they hurl more intrusive questions at me.
“Do you really know her?”
“How long have you been together?”
“Are you planning to get married soon?”
“Will you get a prenup?”
“How will you safeguard what you’ve built in the NFL from a bad relationship?”
“Can you tell us more about Leslie’s background?”
