Page 14 of Enemies Off Camera
They don’t have to tell me.
They show me.
On an iPad.
Hunks of Junk Jocksis a website exposing professional athletes accused of mistreating women. Post after post—some with photos, some with long captions—details Jaxon Wilde’s alleged misdeeds. Lying. Ghosting. Using his status to lure women into bed. Screwing them, then vanishing. Fifteen of them even say he gave them the clap.
“So… did you give them the clap?” I ask, recoiling at the thought.
“No,” Jaxon replies, defensive.
I study his eyes, trying to figure out if he’s lying. I can’t tell. But then I remember something, and shrug. “You know what? I don’t care. You’re a hypocrite, though. Remember what you said to me during our first meeting?” I nod, slow and righteous. “Hypocrite. A real one.”
Jaxon scoots forward on the couch. “I apologized for that.”
I tilt my head. “Did you mean it, though?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”
I raise a finger. “But. You flirted with nearly every woman on that show.”
“To be fair, that was his job,” Roger interjects.
Jaxon points at me. “Exactly. It was part of the role.”
“But youmade outwith almost everyone,” I snap. “I think I’m the only one who kept my distance from your mouth.”
“Your choice, not mine.”
I jerk back at that. Stalled.
Thatwas a comeback I didn’t see coming.
“And,” Jaxon adds, “I’ve been tested for everything. The clap included. I’m clean. Always have been.”
He says it firmly, like it’s the one thing he needs me to believe. And maybe I do. Maybe.
I only look away when Anne claps her hands together, loudly. “I’ve got another meeting. Now that you both know why you need each other, let’s wrap this up.”
My head’s spinning as Roger and Anne volley ideas back and forth, totally in control of the two tools in the room—Jaxon and me.
“Six months and, let’s say... seven days,” Anne says, sinking back into her sleek chair like the queenpin she is. “You know. Keep ’em on their toes.”
“Half a year?” I squeak.
“In two days, we tape the reunion,” Roger cuts in, talking right over me. “You two need to look in love.”
“Understand,” Anne says, “we’ve seen the post-show surveys. There are a lot of unhappy ladies. So the stage is going to be hot.”
“But they’re all under NDA,” Roger adds.
“They’ll still try to get under your skin,” Anne warns, eyes darting between us. “They’re crafty. Season after season, same story. They’ll want you to crack. To expose yourselves.”
I think I nod. I’m not sure. I’m too busy reeling.
This is more than learning lines. More than acting.
This is performance… but with a script I never wrote.
