“What’s good? Is it Gideon?” Jackie typed.
“No, babe. Gideon is fine,” Tanika sighed. “It’s about PJ’s interview.”
Jackie’s heart dropped to her stomach.
Tanika rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “First off, I want to tell you thanks again for letting Sara interview PJ. Cutting her chops with such a major guest is a big deal for her. I’m sure ratings will be through the roof, but I wanted to talk to you before this airs on Friday in primetime.”
Jackie took a sip of water before typing. “Nik, you’ve got me worried. What’s going on? Antonio said that the interview went well, for the most part.”
Tanika ran a hand through her silver-streaked hair. “It did. But it’s not a great interview. We had to do a lot of heavy lifting in editing. PJ was really nervous, and it showed—especially when Sara asked him about his dad. He got agitated. What’s up with that?”
Shit. Jackie didn’t want to continue keeping secrets from her best friends, but this wasn’t hers to tell. Hastily, she typed, “PJ is just super private, that’s all. Can’t you edit that part out?”
“I guess we can. I mean, people do deserve some modicum of privacy, even if they are in the public eye. On the other hand, maybe we should keep it in—a little agitation is good television.” Tanika shrugged. “Besides, who don’t have daddy issues? Am I right?”
Jackie gave an awkward thumbs-up, wishing she could come clean.
“Girl, you’ve got the opposite of daddy issues,” Tanika said. “No man can measure up to Marcus Miles. He was an angel on earth.”
Jackie smiled and typed a reply. “He was. No one can compare.”
“How about Antonio?” Tanika asked, her brow raised.
Jackie sucked her teeth before typing what she felt was the truth. “A couple of hot sexual encounters and a few sweet gestures don’t make the perfect man.”
Jackie didn’t want to think about her and Antonio beyond the present. There was something between them, but she didn’t want any pressure. If she told Antonio she wanted to take things to the next level, he’d be ready to go full steam ahead. And that scared her.
“Enough about that, let’s talk BACHELORETTE PARTY!” Jackie’s app yelled, changing the subject.
“Jackie, I don’t know if I have time for all of that,” Tanika whined. “Hell, I barely have time to plan this wedding. I got wild stuff going on here at WWSN. Outside of work, I doubt I’d have time to get away.”
Tanika’s words gave Jackie an idea. “What if we combine work and play? Why don’t we go to Atlantic City for Mo’s fight in April? WWSN will cover the fight regardless. You can use it as an excuse for a bachelorette party.”
Tanika squinted at Jackie. “Now you know if I say I’m going to Atlantic City, Gideon is going to want to go too. And so would his boys. Boxing and gambling are right up their alley.”
Jackie shrugged, then typed. “Okay! Let’s make it a joint thing. I mean, unless you’re trying to have one last fling before you get married.”
Tanika laughed. “You know damn well you’d kick my ass if I even hinted at a thought of cheating on your cousin. Besides, I love my Giddy Bae. I don’t need a fling.”
Jackie made a vomiting motion with her finger. Tanika and Gideon’s sugary-sweet romance could be a little much for her, though she was glad her matchmaking skills had paid off.
“Girl, please! You had a hand in us getting together in the first place. Anyway, I gotta go. But Jackie…” Tanika put her hand on Jackie’s shoulder. “Nobody is perfect, girl. You should let someone love you in the way that fitsyouperfectly. It sounds like Antonio wants to do that.”
Jackie didn’t believe in soulmates, but Antonio did fit her nicely. He was like the corner edge of a pan of brownies—the best part.
Tanika pulled Jackie into a hug before she could respond. “Love you, boss chick! Bye!” She blew a kiss and headed out the door.
The email alert on Jackie’s computer made itsbingsound—it was probably Guzman either approving or countering the changes. She opened the new message without looking at the sender, then gasped in surprise.
FROM:A.Steele @AMW-Elite.com
SUBJECT:Saturday
Ms. Miles:
Please pack an overnight bag and have an ID or Passport.
