Me: If you’re trying to be a creepy stalker, you’re succeeding.
Unknown number: I didn’t really want to creep you out. That’s why I gave myself away.
Me: thanks, I think.
Unknown number: whatcha doing?
Me: staring at all my boxes that I have yet to unpack
Entering his name into my phone, I wait for the bubbles to pop up, signaling he’s responding.
Jackson: I can help with that. I’m an expert at boxes
Me: --groan--Do you ever take a night off?
Jackson: Come on! That was funny.
Me: if you’re trying to change your image, your one liners need editing as well
Jackson: does this mean you’re going to help me?
Me: I need more information before I agree to anything.
Jackson: so, you want to talk? Is that what you’re saying?
Ding! My doorbell goes off and I roll my eyes. It’s after eight at night, ten bucks says Jackson has already made his way over to my front stoop.
Me: is that you at my door?
Jackson: only one way to find out
Huffing, I get up off the couch and look down at myself.I’m feeling a little flushed after this glass of wine. I have on a tank, no bra and pajama shorts that are a little too short to be inviting him in right now. But the wine is hitting and at this point I’m ready to turn the tables, makehima little uncomfortable.
Yeah, right. Like I have any effect on Jackson.
Opening the door, I find Jackson leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, smiling with that dimple popped. His hat backwards, his eyesimmediately drop to my tank, and his perusal of me has my senses going wild. I can feel my nipples lighting up through my tank and he sees it, too. Trying not to be embarrassed, I turn and walk away from him, and he follows me into the living room.
“Chess.” His voice is strained, and I wonder why. It can’t be me. I’m sure he reacts that way to every female showing the goods.
But I like this power over him.
“Want some wine?” I ask.
“Uh, yeah, sure, that’d be great.” I keep going toward the kitchen, turning to look at him over my shoulder and catch him staring at my ass. I clear my throat and his eyes find me. “Get your fill?”
He gives me a sheepish grin, and mumbles ‘sorry’, but doesn’t look away. I pour him a glass, then turn and hand it to him, motioning to the couch. “Let’s talk.”
He sits at the other end of the couch, visibly breathing a little harder. He takes a gulp of the wine and I smirk to myself. “So, you want me to be your PR specialist? What exactly do you have in mind for this?”
Jackson explains how his agent Tony believes if he put forth a different version of himself, his endorsements would increase, and colleges would start taking notice again.
“So, I’d need you to work on my social media, maybe put out some press releases of what I’ve been doing. Cover stories about the high school team that I’m coaching now.”
“This is all stuff you can do. In fact, you should be doing this for yourself. Fans will want to see you being active for yourself. Not some face behind the computer putting out random posts.”
“I guess, but it will look better if I have representation.” He's right.
“You mentioned fundraisers and events? I’d be your date? Why would I need to go with you? I’m sure we could find women to be your arm candy.”
