Jackie hadn’t even said hello when Marilyn began to rail.
“Jackie! Why the hell was my son looking like a forest creature today? I thought Louis St. Jean was a visionary! The pics he sent me looked nothing like Louis’s stuff in the SeptemberHarper’s Bazaar.”
Jackie gritted her teeth. “And hello to you, too, Marilyn. I assure you, Louis had it all under control.”
“Hmph,” Marilyn scoffed. “That’s what PJ said, but I don’t want my son looking like a fool in his first major ad campaign. I don’t give a damn how famous this French photographer is.”
“Actually, he’s from Texarkana, Arkansas.” Jackie remarked. The accent was all for show.
“I don’t give a flying flip where he’s from. All I know is when I see this ad in a major publication, my child better be looking dignified. New Balance ain’t paying PJ to look like a Cirque du Soleil character. At least the shoe made it into the picture!”
“Right.” Jackie swallowed. Damn. If Antonio hadn’t been there to intervene and prevent shoe-less photos, this tongue-lashing by Marilyn could have been worse.
“Well, thank God for you stepping in! PJ said you talked to that fake Frenchie.”
Wait, what? Jackie furrowed her brow. Why had PJ lied to his mom about Antonio being there? That was weird.
“Yeah, well, that’s my job,” Jackie lied. “I told you. I’m looking out for your son as if he were my own…nephew.” She wasn’t going to say “child” and risk offending Marilyn; besides, Jackie didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. Except when it came to PeeWee, of course.
“You better had,” Marilyn said. “Hold on. How much did you say that was?”
In the background, Jackie could hear someone say, “The bag is $1475 ma’am. How will you be paying?”
“That’ll be on my black AMEX,” Marilyn replied.
Don’t you meanPJ’sAMEX?Jackie wanted to say something, but she bit her lip. She had advised PJ strongly against giving Marilyn access to his money. But PJ wouldn’t hear it. She’d seen this happen time and time again with her clients, but it was no use. If a kid made it to the big leagues, they felt obligated to give their parents the world. Their financial success, in her clients’ eyes, was also their parents’ reward for all their sacrifices. Jackie had seen parents bleed their kids dry, guilting them into bankrolling lavish lifestyles. It was a vicious cycle. In Jackie’s opinion, kids weren’t obligated to take care of their parents. Period.
Not to mention, Marilyn Dawson was a certified, old-school hussy, as Jackie’s grandmother would say. Back in the day, Marilyn Dawson was the ‘it girl,’ on the arm of many a professional athlete across many sports. In current lingo, she’d be the equivalent of a reality star or Instagram model. She knew how to hustle the best of them. She was a party girl who got used to a certain standard of living, thanks to the wealthy men she surrounded herself with. That is, until her hard-partying ways caught up with her. When her access to every eligible athlete dried up, she focused all her attention on her basketball prodigy of a son, setting him up to maintain the lifestyle she was accustomed to.
Although she’d played up the angle in the press, Marilyn was no struggling single mother. PJ had a pretty privileged life as a kid. Private schools. Individual coaching. Travel ball. The newest clothes. The freshest kicks. He and Marilyn had lived in a posh neighborhood in a suburb of Charlotte. To her knowledge, Marilyn didn’t work. Jackie often wondered how PJ’s father factored into any of this. Was he giving up a ton of child support and then some? Anytime Jackie inquired about his father, Marilyn would reply, “He’s a nobody. So why worry about him?”
Dealing with Marilyn in relation to PJ was sometimes triggering for Jackie. But she put personal feelings aside, for the sake of her job and her client. PJ was her top priority.
After Marilyn finished her transaction at whatever high-end boutique she was at, she turned her attention back to Jackie. “Anyway, I was just checking on that. We’re still on track for this rookie thing, right?”
Jackie rolled her eyes at the casual use ofwe, as if Marilyn was in the gym with that boy. “Well, we shall see.”
“Ain’t no ‘we shall see,’ Jacqueline.” Marilyn shot back in a mocking tone. “My baby needs to win. I didn’t raise no loser!”
Loser? Jackie wanted to curse this woman into next week. Even if PJ didn’t win Rookie of the Year, he was still a winner. He had value beyond ball and dollar signs. “Well, Marilyn, we can only hope that PJ continues on the path he’s on, and that the committee votes in his favor.”
“I see. Well, I’ve gotta run. I have an appointment at Spa Sydell with Urla for my Swedish. Tootles, love.” Marilyn hung up before Jackie could even say goodbye.
“A piece of damned work,” Jackie mumbled. Not unlike the piece of work who’d raised her. Jackie’s thumb hovered over the Instagram icon, curiosity almost getting the best of her. She hadn’t talked to her mother in years. There was no telling where she was or who she was with. Last time she spoke to her, the woman was galivanting in Europe, somewhere between husbands three and four. Jackie shook her head. She didn’t need to be angrier than she already was. She looked at the time on her phone before tossing it on the nightstand. Just a few more minutes before her food would get there. She needed to relax.
Jackie remembered Tanika calling her sexually repressed earlier. Jackie wasn’t sexually repressed, was she? She had sex often enough. It wasn’t the stuff of legends all the time, but it was serviceable. Jackie tapped her nails against her thigh. How long had it been? Two months? Four? Damn, could she not remember? Maybe shedidneed a release.
She scrolled the dating apps for a minute, but no one caught her eye. She texted a few of her New York friends with benefits, but no one was available. After striking out, Jackie went to her suitcase and rifled through it until she found her mini vibrator. It was discreet enough to not get her stopped at the airport and powerful enough to get the job done. She never traveled without it.
Quickly, she stripped out of the rest of her clothes and lay on the bed, vibrator in hand. She didn’t feel like pulling up porn on the hotel television or pulling out her tablet. This time, she’d just use her mind to take her where she wanted to go. Maybe she’d think about Megan thee Stallion, her current go-to celebrity fantasy.
Jackie closed her eyes and let her mind drift as she slowly started the vibrator. Though images of Megan floated to her consciousness, nothing stuck—not even Megan with Cardi B in the WAP video seemed to do it for her. Frustrated, she shook her head and tried to concentrate. She increased the vibrator speed as a disembodied voice entered her mind.
“Look at you, baby. You look so pretty when you come for me…”
Jackie’s back arched off the bed as she felt the early tremors of an orgasm beginning.
“This pussy is too good, Jackie. So good…”
