Antonio stood outside the makeup room, checking emails on his phone. A woman with a bright cinnamon-colored afro was approaching, clipboard in hand and an earpiece on.
She looked at Antonio with a quirked-up brow. “And Antonio Steele. Good to see you again.”
“Again? Remind me—I have a terrible memory, sometimes.”
“Oh, I’m Mya. You probably don’t remember because you were busy trying to dodge the baked beans flying at you.”
“Ah.” Antonio nodded. “You were at Jackie’s cookout.”
“Yep,” Mya said. “I have to admit, my girl has good aim. She inherited that from her dad.”
Antonio laughed. “She does have an arm on her.”
“So, is PJ ready to go?”
He peeked inside the makeup room to see PJ obviously telling the makeup artist, Cass, to put her number in his phone.Like father, like son—trying to be a player instead of focusing on the task at hand. Antonio cleared his throat, and PJ stood up, slipping his cell back into his pocket.
Mya shook her head. “Well, hope he’s done running game. We’re ready for him down in the studio. I’m here to take you all down to set. Follow me, please.”
The trio went down the hall to a set of elevators, which opened to a studio. The area had been staged to look like a cozy living room, complete with a fireplace, autumnal window backdrop, and overstuffed furniture. Sara Taylor sat in one of the large armchairs, staring at her iPad, tapping away as a makeup artist dabbed at her face with a fluffy powder brush.
“Damn, she’s fine as hell in-person,” PJ whispered to Antonio. “Imma get her number after this is all over with.”
“She’s here to do a job and so are you. Keep your mind on the interview, nothing else,” Antonio reminded him.
PJ sucked his teeth. “You really take the fun out of shit sometimes.”
Antonio smiled. “That’s my job.”
Mya walked over to Sara, leaning down out to whisper a few words. Antonio couldn’t tell what Mya was saying, but the look on Sara’s face suggested it was about Jackie’s cookout. Sara giggled, interrupting the makeup artist’s work. Yeah, Mya had definitely spilled the beans, reminding Sara about the baked beans.
PJ was shuffling his feet nervously. “The lights are kind of bright. Are they going to dim them?”
Antonio looked around. “We can ask them to if it’s bothering you.”
“Nah, I’m cool.” PJ looked at the crew and their gear. “So, it’s like three cameras?”
Antonio put a hand on PJ’s shoulder. “Son, it’s gonna be fine. Remember what I said, okay? Breathe. You can do this.” He’d taught PJ some of the breathing techniques that he and Jackie learned at the retreat. He couldn’t believe he was employing what he’d learned from Shane and Locust, but he couldn’t deny that it worked.
PJ took a few deep breaths. “Okay. I think I’m good.”
“Good, because here comes Mya to get you,” Antonio said, just as Mya approached.
“We’re ready. PJ, if you would, have a seat in the chair directly in front of Sara. We go live in five.”
Sara stood and extended a hand toward PJ, and he shook it. Antonio watched as PJ tapped his hands on his pants.
“Settle down, kid,” Antonio mumbled to himself.
“Who are you talking to?”
Antonio turned toward the voice. Dressed in slacks, sneakers, and a blazer, the woman who approached him had a face that everyone in sports knew.
“Tanika Ryan. Good to see you,” Antonio said.
“You too, but who are you talking to?” Tanika tilted her head toward him.
Antonio nodded toward the set. “PJ. The kid is a nervous wreck when it comes to interviews.”
