CHAPTER 2
There were only a few things in this world that turned Antonio Steele on more than making money.
A) a fly, short haircut,
B) a big butt, and
C) a smile, or even better, a smart mouth that could put him in his place.
Jackie Miles had all three. It made Antonio’s dick hard just thinking about it.
He watched her march away from him in that denim jumpsuit, her ass bouncing in time.
Did she even have on panties? He shouldn’t even be looking.
But he couldn’t help it. He was drawn to Jackie like a moth to a flame, getting burned each and every time.
It should be criminal to be as smart, savvy, and fine as she was.
But Antonio knew Jackie was keeping him at arm’s length.
She had valid reasons, but that didn’t mean Antonio had to like it.
“How long you going to keep doing this?” asked PJ, following Antonio’s line of sight.
Antonio blinked. “What are you talking about?
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, she can be 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.
Now that was 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.
Antonio let himself in. Jackie was standing quietly in an otherwise empty kitchen, her back to him.
He watched her for a moment, reacquainting himself with the landscape of her.
He took in the lines of her bare shoulders, the way the blue of her jumpsuit enhanced her mocha-brown skin.
The precise way her haircut was lined up on her nape.
Kudos to her hair stylist, because it was damn-near perfect.
The clasp of her Tiffany necklace hit right in the center of the delicious curves of her neck.
The ampleness of her waist, her round behind resting against the marble counter.
He remembered how she had once felt between his hands…
the suppleness…the softness. He remembered how she’d made him beg for it.
If she asked him to beg again, he was more than willing to.
“What do you want, Steele?” asked Jackie, not bothering to turn around.
“Damn. How’d you know it was me?”
“You haven’t changed your cologne in ten years. Just tired.”
“Tired? I’d say it’s classic.” Antonio wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or afraid that Jackie knew him down to the scent. “I just came in here to check on you.”
Jackie turned to face him. “For what? Let me guess, you struck out with India? I don’t even know how the fuck she got into this party. I need to hire better security and tighten my guest list.” She looked him up and down. “That includes you.”
“India isn’t my type.”
“Is that right?” Jackie folded her arms across her chest, a movement that Antonio noticed put emphasis on her breasts. “Could have fooled me. I thought you liked them barely legal, full of silicone, and saccharine sweet.”
“Too much sweetness will give you cavities. Sometimes you gotta have a little spice.” Antonio winked.
Jackie scoffed. He knew she was trying her best not to laugh. One day, Antonio would get another genuine smile out of that woman if it killed him.
“What do you want, Antonio? I know you didn’t come in here to make small talk.” Jackie eyed him suspiciously.
Antonio had so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to tell her, starting with why he was in Atlanta. Instead, he blurted out the first thing on his mind. “I didn’t know this was a surprise engagement party until your cousin took the mic. Since when are you such a romantic, Miles?”
“I’m not. Just did this for my cousin.”
“So the tears I saw were fake, then?” Antonio smirked.
“I wasn’t crying. I had a little bit of PeeWee’s fur in my eye.” The dog, curled at Jackie’s feet, let out an accusatory whimper. Jackie crouched and patted his head.
“Uh-huh,” snickered Antonio. “Even your buddy begs to differ.”
Jackie stood up straight and stared at Antonio. “Why are you talking to me? And why are you inside my home?” When he didn’t answer right away, she started moving around the kitchen, pretending to check on the food, stirring a pan of cold baked beans.
“I just came in here to clear up any confusion.”
“Who’s confused? I’m not confused. Go out there and find another chick to rub up on you! Someone is bound to be stupid enough to fall for your bullshit.”
“Why are you giving me all this attitude?”
“I’m giving you the amount of attitude you rightfully deserve.”
Crestfallen, Antonio shook his head. “What is this really about? You’re mad about someone paying attention to me?”
“I don’t give a damn who pays attention to you! I stopped caring about that a long time ago. Ten years ago, to be exact.”
And there it was. Vegas. Still hanging on his neck like an albatross.
Antonio smoothed a hand over his fresh-cut waves. “Jackie, I’ve tried talking to you about Vegas. Plenty of times. Every time, you shut me down and—”
“I don’t care,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about a mistake I’ve moved past.”
Antonio’s nostrils flared. A mistake? “I’ve tried a million times to explain things to you, Jacqueline. You won’t let me.”
Jackie paused for a moment, looking a little taken aback. He knew it rattled her when he used her full first name. He couldn’t help it. He loved the way it felt. Three syllables that felt like a full meal on his tongue. It was too beautiful a name to not say completely.
Jackie came around the island and stared up at him, PeeWee right by her side. She was barefoot, and without her heels, she was tiny. “Antonio, why are you even here? Let me guess. To give PJ more bullshit advice? To try to steal my client?”
“No, it’s not like that. PJ is—”
“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 knew damn well I 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 her Lucky. 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 beans are good.