“Not your client! So, stop trying to cozy up to him,” she interrupted.
“I can explain.”
“Or,” Jackie continued, “maybe this is some fact-finding mission for your agency, so you can try to poach someone else on my list.”
Antonio let out a sigh, putting his hands in his pockets. “Here you go, always assuming the worst in me.”
“Because all you do is the worst! All the time! Just like when you signed Paco Jimenez when you knewdamn wellI was in talks to bring him to my agency.”
Now that was laughable. Jackie was never even close to snagging the lefty pitcher Jimenez. But Antonio wouldn’t antagonize her. “Jackie, if you just let me talk—”
“You know what? Fine, try and poach someone else. At least I’ll see the knife before it’s in my back.”
“Jackie…”
“Maybe then you’ll stop trying to prove how much better an agent you are than me.”
Antonio slammed his hand on the island, making both Jackie and PeeWee jump. The latter ran to a plush dog bed near the fireplace. Antonio felt bad for scaring the pup, but he couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Oh my god, Lucky! I just wish you would learn to shut up and listen for once! Fuck!”
The kitchen was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Antonio looked over his shoulder and realized they had an audience. Their commotion had moved the party to the patio, where folks could see the fight unfold.
Antonio turned back to look at Jackie. Judging by the look on her face, he knew he had fucked up. He hadn’t meant to tell her to shut up. Besides, it would take an act of God to get Jackie Miles to stop talking. But he knew that wasn’t what would set her off. It would be him calling herLucky. A name that recalled the weight of everything between them. He couldn’t take it back, though. He’d set Jackie’s wheels in motion. Antonio could hear the iconic sounds from Mortal Kombat:Finish Him.
“No girl! Not the beans!” yelled a sister with a bright orange creamsicle-colored afro.
Before Antonio knew it, a glob of cold baked beans was flying at his chest. A collective cacophony of “damn” and “oh shit” rose from the crowd. A good half dozen people were taking photos or videos with their cellphones.
Fuck.
Jackie held up the remaining pan of beans. “Get the fuck out, or I’ll pour the entire pan over your head! I mean it!”
Antonio sighed, grabbing a cocktail napkin from the island to wipe the bean splatter off his shirt. “Jackie, that was real fucking mature. I’ll send you the dry-cleaning bill.”
Jackie put down the pan. “I’ll wipe my dog’s ass with that bill and send it back to you, Steele. Now go!”
Antonio made his way out the patio and through the crowd to find a very amused PJ.
“Damn, dude. She fucked your shit up.” PJ shook his head. “I take it the talk didn’t go as planned?”
Antonio sighed. “Man, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Fine. But you gonna have to take that shirt off before you get in the whip, though. Can’t have you all sticky on the leather.”
Antonio looked down at his shirt, a few beans stuck to the front. He picked one off and tasted it.
Damn, her beansaregood.
CHAPTER 3
