So. Long(79)
Shay elbows me. “Shh.”
I toss her a look.
She ignores me. “No. A cheater is a cheater is a cheater—no matter what.”
The mischief coming off of Jackson Tremaine is almost palpable, and the audience goes silent. It’s as though they know he’s going to do something outrageous, which he probably will. And they’ll all think it’s epic, only I’ll probably be shoved to a lower level of Hell. Even the slight shifting and shuffling that usually goes on in a crowd dies down as he continues to study me and my friend.
He looks around both of us. “Bax, you’re a gambler.”
Mr. Ransom draws back. “Well, my business is gambling, but—”
“Let’s make a wager, shall we? Right here on live television.”
My bladder twitches. Nervousness makes me need to pee. I could probably fill up three adult diapers at this very moment. Whatever Jackson has in mind is bound to be bad for me, terrible for my book, and probably horrible for my long-term career goals.
Baxter leans closer to Jackson. “Go on.”
“Let’s see which of these two ladies’ juju works best.” Jackson wags his eyebrows like he’s a villain in a cartoon.
Shayna pops up out of her seat. “That’s not how I run my business.”
“Aw, c’mon, now, be a sport.” Baxter grins, his eyes trailing from her fake hair all the way to the five-inch heels of her platform fuck-me boots.
Jackson looks straight into the main camera. “What do you think, America? Shall we wager that Love ‘Em can’t use the techniques in her book to keep Leave ‘Em from taking her man?”
Shayna falls into her seat with a thud. “She doesn’t even have a man.”
And there it is. I let out a sigh. All of America knows I’m a love specialist who’s not in love and has no man. No hint of a man in my life—not even an old toothbrush still haunting my medicine cabinet from a man I once had. I’m sunk.
Jackson cocks his head, as though he can hardly believe what he’s heard.
I open my mouth to rebut her statement, only to be interrupted.
“Do you not have a significant other, Ms. Love ‘Em?” His green eyes are too beautiful for someone like him. Nasty, evil people shouldn’t get to be gorgeous. Not fair. They should be ugly as a warning to children not to become emotionally corrupt.
I close my eyes. I so hoped this wouldn’t come up. Of all the things, why this?
I clear my throat. “That has absolutely no bearing on—”
He holds up one finger. “Wait. Hear me out. I take it from your reply that the answer is no?”
Panic sweeps over me in a rush of hot tingles up the back of my neck and across my face. I fight the urge to jump up and run off stage. “No significant other at this time.”
The twinkle in his eyes makes me want to scratch them out of his skull. I’ve never met a man I liked less.
Ever.
I toss my purse onto the counter in the kitchen. “Worst. Day. In. History.”
“I don’t want to hear it. You could’ve avoided that entire exchange.” Shayna drops into a chair at the table and unzips her thigh-high boot.
My jaw falls almost to my navel. “I could have avoided it? What about you?”
Shay kicks off one boot. “Not me. You’re the one who should’ve said no.”
“You should have, too.”
She tilts her head to the side, glaring. “No. I couldn’t. My work depends on women trusting the fact that if their guy is a cheater—if he’s going to cheat at all—it would be with me. If I were to say I couldn’t possibly entice your guy—whoever the fuck that ends up being—into cheating, then why would anyone ever hire me?”
“Who’s going to buy a book on how to catch and keep their man from a woman who isn’t confident enough to say that she can keep her man enthralled enough that he’ll turn down the opportunity to go at it with a blonde dressed like a prostitute?”
“Prosti…” Shayna looks down at her outfit and giggles. “Yeah, I guess I am kind of dressed to head down to the boulevard and hawk my ample wares.”
She shimmies her tits in her too tight black leather jacket. “Day-umn. I didn’t even get the big O from that one. How about you?”
“What?”
She makes no sense to me sometimes.
Shay extricates herself from her other boot. “I mean, Jackson Tremaine fucked us both, and good.”
“I guess he did.” I drop into the chair adjacent to hers. “It’s not exactly like we can bail—not now that the entire country is waiting to see which one wins.”
She side-eyes me. “We could tell Jackson to fuck off, and dust off our hands and move on.”