PJ rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. Play dumb all you want. Listen, please don’t fuck my agent, dude. I finally have her on my good side.”
Antonio shrugged. “Nah, I already ruined shit between us once. I’ll be damned if I ruin it again.”
“Ruined how? You talking about that stuff with New Balance? Or something else?” PJ raised a brow.
“I don’t know. Maybe both? Look, I’m not talking about it with you, of all people. We are supposed to be here to chill.” Antonio made his way to the bar, determined to end the conversation. He ordered a Hennessy neat and downed it in two sips.
PJ had followed him to the bar, and he wasn’t letting up. “Well,” PJ said, “I still think we need to tell Jackie about—”
“Nah,” Antonio interrupted. “The timing is off. There’ll be too many questions that I don’t need coming up. And neither do you.”
“Whatever, man. Jackie is my agent, and I doubt she’d trip. Actually, shecanbe kinda mean, but she has a right to know.”
“She does,” Antonio agreed. “Just…not right now.”
“Well, she did get one thing right. You do look like a tired ass uncle. You on the grill or nah? All you need is the sandals.” PJ cackled, tears forming in his eyes.
“Cmon, man,” laughed Antonio, gesturing to his outfit. “This outfit is fly, and you know it.”
PJ’s cackle turned to a howl, which was cut short as something caught his attention in the crowd. “Isn’t that Sara Taylor from WWSN over there? Man, imma try to shoot my shot again.”
Antonio shook his head. “Good luck, kid.”
“Don’t need luck when you’re PJ Dawson!” He winked and made a beeline toward Sara.
Antonio had to laugh. PJ was cocky, but a good kid. Being a former athlete, he knew just how dangerous the combination of cockiness, handsomeness, and millions of dollars could be. It enabled a young man to make plenty of mistakes. Major mistakes. He looked toward the dance floor and saw Jackie moving in time to the beat. He smiled, then gritted his teeth.
Antonio had plenty of regrets in life, but this was a big one. Letting Jackie get away had been his most costly mistake.
He turned back to the poolside bar to order another drink. Jackie had nothing but top-shelf stuff, which was impressive. Then again, this was Jackie Miles. She didn’t half-ass anything.
“Let me get a D’usse on the rocks. Two fingers.” Antonio slipped a twenty in the bartender’s tip jar.
“Oh, you could have ordered me one,” said a nasally voice behind him.
Antonio turned to see India Inkwell, child star turned Instagram model turned influencer, standing next to him. She was all bright smiles and jet-black, waist-length weave. She left no parts of herself to the imagination. Antonio was pretty sure the shorts she had on could double as denim panties. Jesus, how old was she? Like twenty? She was young enough to be his child.
“Are you even old enough to drink, my dear?” he asked with a raised brow.
India laughed, gently slapping him across his pec, slyly feeling him up. “Oh, you play too much! I turned twenty-one last week. I guess you didn’t see my deal with Black Eagle hard seltzer?”
“I did not.” Antonio signaled the bartender for two more D’Usses, one for her and one more for himself. “You here with someone?”
India was a notorious groupie, bouncing from one hot athlete or celebrity of the moment to another. He was curious how she got an invite—this wasn’t the type of person Jackie would hang out with or represent. She had to have been some poor sucker’s plus one. Antonio handed her the drink and watched her take a cautious sip, clearly not used to drinking hard liquor.
“I mean, I could be here with you, if you wanted me to.” India bit her lip seductively, showing off her brand-new, Chiclet-white veneers. Antonio wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want the girl to feel embarrassed. It was obvious that she was new to being an adult, trying her best to be sexy.
He looked over India’s head, spotting Jackie again. She was moving on the dance floor, laughing and smiling with her friends. Her skin glowed in the sun, like chocolate with flecks of twenty-four-karat gold. Her full hips moved like water, effortless. Jackie could always command a room, a dance floor, or a party. She took the oxygen out of any space she entered, leaving him breathless.
Nowthatwas sexy.
“So…what’s up?” asked India as she moved closer, her acrylics roaming up and down his arm. “You here with anybody?”
“Uhm, listen, sweetheart.”
But before he could let the young lady down easy, he glanced up to see Jackie glaring at him from the dance floor. She looked like she wanted to rip his head off and feed it to that pampered pooch of hers.
“Sorry,” said Antonio, easing away from a dejected India. Jackie had left the dance floor. He lost sight of her for a few beats in the crowd before he spotted her entering her house via the patio’s sliding doors. He maneuvered past the waitstaff who were clustered there, grumbling about Jackie’s attitude.
