Mo grabbed a toothpick from his shirt pocket, twirling it in his mouth. “A title fight with Ramón Rodriguez? In AC? For real?”
Jackie’s nails were flying across her phone screen. “Yep. All I need is one meeting with Manny Guzman. I think he’ll be game.”
Manny Guzman was a former-boxer-turned-promoter who’d basically discovered Ramón in his gym as a kid back in Miami. He’d been in Ramón’s life ever since, guiding every step of his career, including promotion and management. Jackie wasn’t too keen on Manny taking percentages as both a promoter and manager, but boxing was dirty like that.
Mo raised a brow. “And why would Manny go for this? That dude keeps Ramón on a tight leash.”
Jackie typed out her message and leaned forward. “Let’s be honest: Since you took your so-called hiatus, Ramón has had no real competition in the ring. That last fight he had with the Irish dude, O’Sullivan? Ended after five rounds because Ramón was using his face as a dishrag across the ring. He’s been coasting, Mo. And you can give him a challenge.”
“You talking a good game, Miles.”
“And I back up what I say, Mo. Always.” As good as this app was—thanks to Honey’s brilliant customizations—Jackie wished it knew how to communicate snark.
Mo ran his hand down his full, Freeway-style beard. “You persistent ain’t you, Lil’ Bit. Tiny and annoying like a mosquito.”
Jackie shrugged. “I’ve been told that a time or two. But I’m only this way when I’m confident of my client’s potential.”
“Ain’t had nobody said that about me in a minute. Not since….” Mo trailed off.
Jackie paused a bit, thinking carefully about how she’d phrase her response. Finally, she pressed SPEAK on the app. “We all make mistakes, Mo. Trust me, I know. Some mistakes haunt you for a lifetime.” Her mind flashed to an image of Katrice, quickly replaced by one of Antonio. “It seems like you’re trying to put the past behind you. Like you said, getting all Zen and stuff.” The app autocorrected “shit” to “stuff.” Whatever.
“Yeah, but folks out here ain’t believing me when I say I done changed.”
Jackie typed swiftly. “That’s why you’d have me and a really good PR team on deck, with a revamped strategy. We can lean into your new, holistic lifestyle.”
“Hold on, Tiny,” Mo held up his hand. “We gonna need something stronger than beer to talk about this business shit. You drink tequila, Miles? Or are you a fruity cocktail kind of girl?”
Jackie tilted her head with attitude. Okay, so maybe Jackie and all her big boss chick energy did love a fruity cocktail. Preferred it, actually. Hell, she hadn’t been able to handle the scotch on the plane with Antonio, and the tequila shots they did the other night had left her falling asleep all over him.
Mo laughed, his platinum grill gleaming. “You right. I bet you just drink straight gas out here. If you can step to me over the years, clearly your heart don’t pump no Kool-Aid.”
Jackie smiled. From Mo, that was definitely a compliment.
Mo signaled to his bodyguard. He whispered something, and the guy headed off toward the bar. After a few minutes, the bodyguard brought over a very expensive bottle of Reposado with a setup of limes and salt. Mo poured two shots, sliding one over to Jackie.
“To new beginnings,” Mo said.
Jackie nodded, clinking her shot glass against his.
“ABASEBALL BAT, JACKIE?” MO CHUCKLED AS HE THREW BACKanother shot. “And I thought I was bad when I punched that bouncer. And that photographer. Or was it a reporter?”
Apparently, Reposado was a truth serum, because Jackie had been spilling her guts to Mo for a half hour. The music was getting pretty loud, so Mo had graciously hooked up his earbuds to her phone via Bluetooth, so that he could hear her via the app.
From her time at her agency to her dad, she’d opened up to Mo. Unless Jackie was with her girls, she wasn’t typically this open. Yeah, she was definitely blaming the tequila. Funny, the tequila hadn’t really done that the other night when she and Antonio… She pushed the thought out of her head.
Jackie sucked on a lime, taking the edge off. The screen was getting a little blurry as she typed, but she pressed on. “Trust me, that was a long time ago. I’m not that Jackie anymore.”
“You sure? ’Cause you sure came at me with some fire. I respect it, though. I need someone passionate about me, about the sport. Not someone trying to hustle me.” Mo rubbed his hands. “I’m sorry I ain’t listen to you earlier.”
“I tried to tell you Donovan was a snake. One day, you men will learn to listen to Black women,” Jackie typed, a slight smile on her face.
“Well, I’m listening,” Mo said, tapping the earbuds. “I am. And if you can pull this fight off, then you got me for life, Lil’ Bit. For real. I know you’re in my corner.”
Jackie played it cool, but she was doing a victory dance inside. “Good. You’re a once-in-a-generation fighter. We’re talking Ali-level greatness, dude. I’d hate to see you squander it by hiding out from the world.”
Mo’s face became solemn as the band struck up the last tune of the evening. “I ain’t fought in a title fight almost two years. I still train like a beast. Have a minor fight here and there. No real money, though. All the cash I had, Clyde took. But…to step foot in the big ring again? I won’t lie and tell you I ain’t scared shitless.”
Jackie nodded. “Sometimes we’ve got to do things that scare us,” she typed. “I mean, look at me. I took a chance coming here to Mexico. Though, not without some coaxing.”
