I have no doubt that my decision will have consequences, both for myself and for her. We live very high-profile lives. People in her world and mine will talk, and not all of it would be kind. Lisa is a beloved influencer and television personality by millions of women in the country and in the world of professional sports. I’m well known too.
For most of my career I’ve kept my private life under the radar and I’m not really used to dealing with a lot of negative online chatter, other than how badly I’m protecting my quarterback, but I know one thing for sure. Regardless of how fantastic of a human being Lisa is, she’s not the one, and it was time for one of us to stand up and admit it to the other.
After a good night’s sleep and maybe a few tears, she’ll realize the same thing. I made the right decision for the both of us. At least, I can go to sleep tonight and feel good about that.
Tomorrow, I’ll focus on what comes next.
Brick
Clunk.
I hurl my brand new cell phone across the bedroom and it lands dead center inside of the waste bin in the corner. I shouldn’t have looked online, but I couldn’t help it. Every social media site worth reading (and a few that aren’t) is featuring stories about how much of an asshole I am, because I abused, then dumped, the sweetest girl on the planet.
Abused?
What in the actual fuck are they talking about?
There’s even a video being circulated of poor, innocent Lisa sitting among several empty bottles of Pinot Grigio while crying the night away about what a horrible human being I am. A video which seems to have originated from Lisa’s personal Instagram.
Sure, I get it, she’s mad; but to publicly and purposely attack my character like this? I assumed we left things on a civilized note yesterday. Clearly I was wrong. In fact, this very public reaction of hers is baffling to me. The way I remember it, all she really cared about was if I was going to make an appearance on her stupid cooking show. So how is it in a matter of hours, I’ve now become enemy number one on every woman’s hit list?
I suppose dumping the culinary world’s youngest influencer is tantamount to clubbing a baby seal these days, because the comments under this video are downright brutal and they remind me of another dark time in my past.
Everyone knows that Brick beats up women. Remember that incident in college? He was definitely guilty. The school probably paid that girl off.
He’s not even that good of a player, and they pay him millions of dollars? Why are we even talking about this loser? Lisa should have never broken up with the funny guy from that HBO show.
As if he can find anyone better than Lisa Adams. That girl is hot, rich AND she can cook? He’s stupid. I’d marry her sweet ass tomorrow and I don’t even like girls.
As I use my thumb to scroll down the social media site, I can see that there are oodles more comments just like these, but before I can go further down a very toxic rabbit hole, I decide to call my accuser and get an explanation for everything I’m seeing online.
“Hello?”
“Lisa, did you post that video?”
“I sure did.”
I almost choke on my spit at the coolness of her response. I’ve never heard her use this tone of voice before.
“I thought we left the cafe on a friendly note.”
“What’s friendly about being dumped by some second-rate football player?”
That’s when it finally clicks.
I should have listened to my gut when it told me not to get too serious with this woman and I didn’t listen. I was trying to force something which was never there. Lisa is not who I thought she was. In fact, she’s a real bitch.
“Second rate, huh?”
“You had the perfect situation, Brick. I don’t think you understand who I am. You would have become a much more relevant player if you’d just understood the assignment.”
“Let’s be clear, Lisa. You’re not out here curing cancer. In fact, you’re fooling their asses. You cook keto on television and eat macaroni and cheese in private. Take the video down,” I tell her, pissed at her second-rate comment. Who the hell does she think she is?
“That video is my truth and I will not take it down,” she says in a snotty voice.
“You were drunk and alluded to some sort of abuse when you know that is the farthest thing from the truth. Take it down!”
“People interpret things the way they want to,” she says casually. “I have nothing to do with what people think of you.”
“I could sue you for defamation of character, you heartless bitch!” I say, pissed.
I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. She knows everything I went through in college. The baseless allegations made against me back then still cast a heavy shadow on my career because no matter what I do, some people will always believe that where there’s smoke, there’s fire.
“I’m hanging up now, Brick. I think I feel threatened.”
There’s a tinge of amusement in her voice, as if she’s truly enjoying playing the victim at my expense.
“Wait, Lisa–”
When she hangs up on me, I toss the phone a second time, and this time it lands in the waste bin. A few moments later it rings again and I want to ignore it, but the sound of it vibrating inside the metal trash can is driving me bat shit crazy, so I answer the call on my smart watch instead.
“What?” I answer curtly.
“Brick, it’s Joyce, and I’ve got Phillip on the line as well.”
Joyce and Phillip are my personal dynamic duo. Joyce is my publicist and Phillip is my agent. They’ve been with me almost since the very beginning, when no one thought I had a chance in hell of making the NFL.
The media dubbed me “Mr. Irrelevant” after I was the last player picked in the NFL draft. But I was determined to become very relevant in the world of sports, and with hard work and the help of these two, that’s exactly what I’ve become once I was traded from the team who was last place in the league to where I play now, with the five-time Super Bowl champion team, New York Nighthawks.
“I know who it is.”
“Based on your bitter tone, it’s obvious that you’ve seen all the chatter about your break up online?”
I waltz over to the waste bin and switch the call over to my phone.
“Do you see what they’re saying, Joyce? She’s trying to ruin me!” I explode. “A moment ago I was the rags to riches golden boy in the NFL and now they’re talking about Brick Jennings like I’m some sort of serial killer because of who I decide to date or not date.”
“Okay, first of all, I need you to stop referring to yourself in the third person. That’s weird.”
“Whatever.”
“And I realize the stories may seem a little one-sided–”
“That’s putting it mildly. I never touched that woman unless we were fucking.”
“Well, she didn’t exactly say that you physically abused her.”
“Physical, mental, whatever the fuck, I didn’t do any of it!”
As usual, Joyce is doing all the talking as Phillip sits on the phone and listens quietly. He only speaks up when asked a direct question or if we’re specifically discussing money.