Page 12 of The Game Plan
“That’s not how it was in Las Vegas, Jax. You two were like… biscuits and cheese,” he says, making me raise an eyebrow. “You hit it off big time.”
“Did you see the way she skipped to Immigration after I promised to get an annulment?” I ask. “It’s like she can’t even see that I’ve been a good guy in trying to fix her visa shit. I was the one who told Mitch to tee up her working here, too.”
TJ scratches his head. “Why?”
“Because she needs a job for her visa and I’m not letting her work for her ex after what he did to her. Keep up, Teej.”
“Ah, right, I’m the fucking stupid one here,” he says, smirking.
“Yeah, I get it. I got drunk, dressed as a minion and got married, and now I can’t even remember if I consummated the marriage.”
He snorts. “I can’t vouch for what happened in your hotel room but you guys definitely tried something.”
“We did?” It hits harder than my marriage failing to launch because my wife thinks I’m an idiot that I might have gotten lucky with her and I don’t remember.
“Before the Registrant told you to get out of the chapel bathroom.” He chuckles as he speaks and I bite my lip, laughing despite my plight.
“Christ, she’s right, I’m a loose cannon,” I say, sobering.
“So you’re going to actually get the annulment?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’ll make sure her visa’s sorted, then there’s no need for us to stay hitched.” I ought not to care about this, it’s just, the thing is… I’ve never failed at anything in my life and that’s what isn’t sitting well with me. “If there’s a silver lining, no one outside of the Vegas group knows about this, so she gets to stay in New York and I go back to being the ineligible bachelor. No harm, no foul.”
He watches me silently, eyes narrowing. “Right. At least no one knows.”
“TJ, I can sense your cogs whirring, so say whatever it is you have to say.”
His lips part as if he’s going to speak, then he exhales, shoulders dropping. “Let’s get some lunch before weight training.”
But I don’t make it to lunch because when I come out of the showers, my phone is ringing in the locker room.
“You’d better have a good excuse for calling me,” I tell my sister, even though we speak regularly. “Is Hell freezing over?”
“Why, do you want to skate on it, pea brain?” she retorts. “And I’m calling to ask if you have lost your goddamn mind?”
I sigh. This morning has drained me already. “Cut the cryptic, Sas?”
“Did you really get married in Las Vegas? Dressed as a minion?” Her decibels rise to a level I don’t need right now, but…
“How do you know that?” I ask, my heart suddenly racing.
“Erm, the video that’s surfaced online. I have a hit on your bonehead name for when you do something stupid.” Sas works at Dad’s sports agency, which is not my representation but it doesn’t surprise me that she set up a PR hit for my name – I’m tight with my sister, deep, deep behind hateful banter. I’d knock down walls for her and she’d take a PR bullet for me.
“Online? The fuck?” I ask, switching her to speaker so that I can search for the video of my drunken nuptials. “Jesus fucking Christ. How the fuck?”
If this isn’t TJ’s video, it’s one taken by someone else in the chapel. Someone inside the Vegas Circle of Un-fucking-trustworthy.
And so I relay the story, as much as I remember of it, to my sister, who tells me, “Jax, you can’t get this annulled. Imagine how bad this will look for your image – undermining the sanctity of marriage. And if Sienna – God, I can’t believe Sienna would marry you, she’s professional.”
I scoff. “Yeah, recurring theme here that I’m the weaker half of the couple.”
“Now is not the time to be broody and whiny, Jax. Think about how this will make Sienna look to the high-ups at the Dragons and in the industry generally. She got wasted and married a client by accident? Her reputation will be in tatters if you don’t legitimize this. Plus, doesn’t she have a no fraternization clause in her Dragons contract?”
“Fuck, this is bad, isn’t it?”
“Look, I wouldn’t ordinarily advocate being dishonest but this is showbusiness and since that video went public, you need to stay in this marriage for as long as it takes to fake it. Then you can get a divorce. Put on a pair of coveralls and a yellow hood for it, since that’s clearly your kink.”
“You’re suggesting I fake being married to my wife?” I ask.
