KICK IT | JENLISA

78

Lisa

Today's interview started a painful two-week process, where my life revolved around PR damage control in one identical public idiocy confession after another. To recoup the wasted money, Nancy sold my story. I gave national-level interviews, local interviews, put out social media explanations, and podcasts.

Her 'Lisa Manoban is for sale campaign brought in triple the amount of lost donations. The press ate up what Mark and I said and fought like pigs for scraps.

Admitting my stupidity burned my chest. Once I was acknowledged as a victim and charges were slapped against the Yang brothers for corruption, support poured in, but the media circus paled in comparison to the behind the screen shit.

My team earned their Christmas bonuses.

Jackson secured my interests with Houston's management. Mina presented her case as if they were a courtroom, not a boardroom. Heat pumped out my armpits and ringed the dress shirt choking my neck at the conference table filled with suits. Their frowns dissolved when she assured them first that neither I nor the team were at legal risk.

By the time Jackson finished his, 'This will all wash away once Lisa steps on the field.' pitch, judgmental eyes looked warily in my direction. The timing couldn't have been worse for my contract, but the most important person at the table stood up.

"I believe her." Gary Youn offered a tight nod. "Lisa might be a clueless idiot, but she's not a criminal."

My heart pounded so hard in my ears, I almost missed the murmured agreement.

All of my sponsors were outraged, but all press was good press for their bottom lines. All threw their unconditional support behind my 'victimisation.'

Three times a week, we organised a feature for each charity. My eyes leaked during visits to the leukaemia wing at Houston General Hospital. I donated six luxury vehicles now in my possession and served hundreds of meals for the homeless. Eight hundred pounds of dog food and five hundred pounds of kitty litter were delivered to Paws for Cause. Hearts for Heroes, the veteran support charity, allowed me the humility of attending one of their group settings.

The support hour turned into a rant of limited resources, but I was all ears. Complaints about poor meeting conditions, limited post-service housing availability, and lack of mental and physical health resources fed my drive past retribution. Their testimonies, similar to ones from Jennie's therapy class, planted the seeds for my craziest idea to date.

"Good news." Jackson scrolled through his phone. By the swollen bags around his eyes, the past three weeks aged him thirty years. "Mina's almost done with the YG Accounting case prep."

"That is good." I muttered, slipped on my sunglasses, and exited the community centre.

Legally, Mina couldn't sue the manager – some Yang Min-suk I'd never met – for drawing a seven-figure salary from my foundation. By no coincidence, his brother Yang Hyun-suk was the manager who fired Jennie, then Mark for digging into questionable financial reporting. Both the Yang brothers were lucky to never be in my presence.

YG Accounting's slimy president wasn't innocent in my mind, but I left the witch hunt to Mina. Settling for bad PR instead of me knocking out teeth left a bitter taste in my mouth, but her team worked with the Feds to shred YG Accounting's bankrolls and put a few bodies behind bars.

In an anti-climactic email format, I fired YG Accounting for breach of privacy. Their lawyers whined until two whistle-blower statements about unethical employment practices shut them up.

"Fuck, this has been a tiring three weeks." Jackson's eyes outlined my shoulder, which rubbed grease into my shirt. "Bam says you're close."

"No." My head shook at the wall of heat we walked through in the lot. "I'm there. No bullshit."

His smugness hit my ear. "Because of yoga?"

Heat simmered off the hood of my car, blurring the air. I pushed an exhale out my nose. "Because of Jennie. You were right, Jackson. She's... what I need."

Because of the media horde, I stayed away from the studio. Mark happily thrust himself into the limelight, even offered a book deal. Somehow, he thought – Benevolent Betrayal: Unveiling the Dark Side of Generosity, was a catchy title. As long as he didn't call the book – Lisa's Stupidity.

PR touring meant I was home a lot less. When I was, the house was empty, and my meals were a silent solitude. I missed that fishbowl-sized studio. More so, I missed her. She deserved more credit than I did for my shoulder recovery.

My lips were haunted by the slight touch of hers that was over before it started. It only furthered my itch for a deeper taste. When I did sleep, my dreams extended that kiss to a whole lot more.

"She's fine." Jackson assured me. "Quiet, but answers the press for you if asked."

"Good." A quiet Jennie was unfamiliar to me, but her on my side pulled up the corners of my mouth. Mina sent me evidence that Jennie hadn't leaked anything, but I didn't need it.

"I told Nancy to stop the interviews." His eyebrows drew together. "Press is moving on now that the Feds are handling YG Accounting. You pass that shoulder test and I'll get your contract. You're done. All future comments are that you're moving forward to start the season."

Start the season. I should have been more excited about that.

As an alternative to putting my fists through walls, preferably one of YG Accounting's, I hadn't stopped practicing in my basement. My movements were clunky, and my breath was out of sync. Meditation led my brain straight to her.

With one more week until my shoulder test, I didn't want to wait until. I didn't need shoulder rehab with Jennie anymore, but I sure as fuck needed her.