So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (41 page)

He thrust himself away from his desk and stands, arms held
out wide. His face is masked with shock and disgust.

My hands fly to cover my mouth. Tears gather in my eyes, and
I can’t breathe. I take off and run into the blue curtain. It swishes around me,
and I push against the heavy fabric. I twist and turn, until I free myself.

Can it get worse?

Down the halls. Wrong turn. Back up. Another wrong turn.

God, why am I having such a hard time finding my way?

Finally, I find the greenroom. I snag my purse out of the
locker and toss the little key onto the floor.

Of all the times for this to happen.

I make it to my car, ramming the key into the ignition with
shaking hands.

Who pukes on national television? What will people think?
What does Jack think?

I peel out of the parking lot.

This will definitely be a career ender.

SEVENTEEN

I drop my ruined note cards and sling warm wetness from my
hands. My jaw hangs loose.

Eric coughs, drawing my attention. He gives me his
dumbass-we’re-still-on-air
look.

I grab a tissue from the box at the far end of my on-stage
desk and pull my shit together.

“And that’s all part of the excitement of live television.
You never know what might happen.” I slap on a smile. “We’re going to go to
commercial break and pay some bills while we get this mess cleaned up.”

I pull up at the curb in front of Shayna and Ronnie’s place.
There’s a light showing around the blinds in the entryway. Maybe that means
she’s still awake. Something this important can’t wait.

We have to get this shit straightened out right now.
Whatever she thinks she’s got going with Dave, if it’s just sex, it can’t trump
giving our baby a home with two parents. Surely she’ll see the logic in that.

I ring the bell and wipe my suddenly clammy hands down the
front of the jeans I changed into after the show. The bird squawks and
whistles. Well, if they were asleep before, they aren’t now.

It only takes a few seconds for the door to open.

Shayna’s hair is mussed. Her lace panties might as well be
see-through, and that wife-beater could just as well not be there, with her not
wearing a bra.

I avert my eyes and check out the door frame.

She lets out a big sigh. “What do you want?”

I look her directly into her eyes, careful to keep my gaze up
high. “I need to see Ronnie.”

She slides her hand up the side of the door, leaning against
it. “No can do.”

“Not here?” Where the fuck is she at this time of night?

She shrugs. “Not my business where she chooses to stay the
night. She’s a big girl.”

“Dave’s?” Ugh.

Shayna inspects her fingernail. “Couldn’t say.”

I turn away from her and head to the car. “When you see her,
tell her that she and I need to talk.”

I’m halfway down the walk when Shayna says, “You know, Jack,
I’ve been wondering something about you.”

I turn to face her, still ensuring to keep my gaze above her
shoulders. “What’s that?”

She bites her pinky nail and gives me this look. In the glow
of the front porch light it almost seems like she’s hitting on me. “You like
white meat as much as you like dark meat?”

“White meat?” What the fucking hell?

Shayna shrugs. “I mean skin tone.”

Holy fuck, she
is
hitting on me. That bitch. I can’t
believe she’d do this to Ronnie—ah, man.

This is Shayna.

I shake my head. “You know, Shayna, it has nothing to do
with her shade of melanin, but everything to do with who she is. And you forget
that I know what you do for a living. Nice try, though. She ask you to do
that?”

Shayna drops the sex-pot persona and grins. “Nope. But I had
to make sure you’re worthy of my girl. She’s flying to Oklahoma in an hour.
Hurry up; maybe you’ll catch her before she gets through security.”

I take off for the car at a run.

“Hey, Jackass!”

I stop. “Yeah?”

“We know Dave was a plant. Not cool. So. Not. Cool.”

Shit. That’s why she’s so pissed.

I jump into my car and race toward the airport.

Blue lights flash in the rearview.

Fuck.

I pull over and dig out the appropriate documents. Maybe if
I’m ready, this will go fast.

The officer comes to the window and taps it with his
flashlight. “License and registration please.”

I hand him the requested items.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

Considering I’ve broken just about every traffic law on the
books since I left Shayna’s, I have no fucking idea. “No, sir. I don’t.”

“You were exceeding the posted speed limit by thirty miles
per hour. Are you injured and on your way to the hospital?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m trying to catch the love of my
life before she gets on a plane and leaves.”

He cocks his head and blinds me when he shines his light
right into my face. “Seriously? That’s your excuse?”

I grip the wheel. “It’s the God’s honest truth.”

He glances at my driver’s license. Then he bends down,
taking a closer look at me. “Jackson Tremaine?”

I smile and salute. “That would be me.”

He chuckles as he writes in his notebook. “I sure wish you’d
have just told me the truth. Don’t lie to an officer of the law. Everyone knows
you’re not the kind of guy who chases after a woman. You leave a wake of broken
hearts everywhere you go.”

Great. Of all the cops that could’ve pulled my ass over, I
get the one who reads gossip rags.

It takes a total of seventeen minutes before I’m free to go.
I slam my fist on the dash. “Fuck.”

I turn the car toward home. No way I can get all the way out
to LAX and catch her now. She’s probably already at the gate.

When I let myself into my house, Bull’s waiting. Happy to
see me and wanting to play, he grabs his toy and spits it at my feet.

I flop onto the bed. “Sorry, Buddy. Not tonight.”

He jumps onto the bed. His toy hangs over my chest while his
expressive eyes question what could possibly be so bad that I wouldn’t want to
play.

I slide my hand over his head, scrubbing behind his ears. “I
fucked up, Bull. Bad.”

He whines. Then he drops the slobbery stuffed animal on my
belly, jumps off the bed, and runs out of the room.

I pull in a deep sigh and choke on it. “Fuck, Bull! What the
hell?”

The air is rancid with dog shit stink.

That dog needs to visit the vet. There’s something wrong
with his gastrointestinal health. I lay my arm over my nose and mouth.

I deserve it, though. I should have to breathe bad-fart air.
My life should reflect my personality. I’m a complete asshole.

I swipe my screen and end the call. “Fuck it. It’s been
three days. She’s not going to answer.”

Bax grunts and takes another swig of his beer.

“What?” I ask.

“Don’t be a pussy. She’s your woman. Go get her.”

“A
pussy
? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He stares at me. “Look, just because things aren’t going the
way I’d like with my own life, it doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking
about. She ran because she wants you to come get her.”

“No. She ran because she hates my face. She doesn’t want to
see me. Hell, she probably can’t stand to hear my fucking name. It was just a
joke. How was I supposed to know I’d fall for her?”

Bax drops his head. “Don’t ask me. I can’t even talk the
girl I want into another fuck. I thought it was good. I thought we had fun. I
thought
she was attracted to me. All I want is a fuck or two more. Is that too much to
ask?”

I shake my head. “We’re quite the pair. Two dicks, pissing
into the wind.”

I wrap the blanket tighter around my legs.

Gee-Gee hands me a cup of hot cocoa. “Here, Baby Girl.”

I pat the sofa cushion right next to me. “Come watch with
me?”

She sits and takes me into her arms, hugging me tightly.
“Why do you watch his show every night if you say you don’t have feelings for
him?”

I pull in a breath and hold it, count to three, and let it
out slowly. “Because—I don’t know. I just do.”

The commercial break between shows ends, and Jack’s house
band plays his theme song. The audience erupts into applause.

He unbuttons his jacket and takes his seat. He looks into
the camera. “I’m skipping the introductory segment this evening. It’s time to
get down to business.”

More cheering.

What is he doing? This isn’t the normal format for his show.

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, and then lets
the air seep out between tight lips. “A few weeks ago, on this program, we had
two very special guests. I nicknamed them
Love ‘Em
and
Leave ‘Em
.”

I cover my lips with my fingertips. Lord. What is he doing?

He picks up my book, showing it to the audience. “This is a
wonderful self-help book written by Ms. Ronnie Fitz, or
Love ‘Em
as I
dubbed her. It’s a book detailing ways a woman can catch and keep the love of
her life.”

I try to swallow the brick lodged in my throat.

A clip from my first guest appearance comes on screen. Just
enough to get the idea of what Shayna does, and how the bet came about.

The bet. Of course. He has to address that. Sunday is
Valentine’s Day, so this is the show that we were supposed to meet on-air with
the results.

My teeth grind.

When the clip is over, Jack comes on screen. “So, we made a
bet. Most of my viewers know I love a good practical joke every now and then.”

The studio fills with clapping and whistling.

Jack motions for the crowd to calm down. “Well, I thought it
would be fun to pull a fast one on our two unsuspecting players in this bet.
So, unbeknownst to
Love ‘Em
and
Leave ‘Em
, I hired this man.”

A photo of Dave pops onto the screen for a few seconds.

“This man is an actor. His job was to pose as a regular guy.
Love ‘Em
was supposed to attract and hopefully get him to fall for her.
Then we were to send
Leave ‘Em
in to try to entice him away from Ms.
Fitz.”