Vengeance(33)

“Are you okay, Wicket?”

“Wha . . . what did you say his name is again?”

“Jonovan Davis. J-O-N-O-V-A-N. You know him or something?”

I quickly gathered my composure before Nikki saw right through me. “No, never heard of him. I thought you said Jonathan Davis at first. I’ve run across someone by that name, but it’s a common one. I don’t know any Jonovan.”

“Oh, okay.” Nikki stood there, hesitating. “Are you still coming now?”

“Actually, I need a few minutes. I need to shoot a couple of e-mails out before noon. Tell him that I’ll be right out.”

“Cool beans.”

Nikki left the room and I almost collapsed on the floor. I had not heard the name Jonovan Davis in decades. It seemed like several lifetimes ago.

Jonovan Davis saved my life the night that everyone else was seemingly determined to take it. He had always been nice to me at Powers High School, but I was too shy to ever take his kindness for genuine interest. Besides, he had back-to-back girlfriends all throughout school. A lot of it had to do with his incredibly good looks and charm, and the fact that he had a 4.0 GPA. He was voted the most likely to succeed as well. So he was a reporter now? Interesting! I wondered if he was still as attractive. Nikki had made it obvious that he was fine, but was he still that fine?

Suddenly, I was concerned about my appearance. I ran upstairs to my bedroom and threw open the doors to my humongous walk-in closet. I picked out a red skintight pantsuit to slip in and opted out of a blouse so I could show off my cleavage. Then I slipped into a pair of five-inch black pumps and a black jade necklace and bracelet to adorn the outfit.

I hightailed it into my bathroom and took about five to six minutes applying makeup. I was not going to put on any powdered foundation that day at all, but I made myself up to look like I was about to do a photo shoot. Actually, my dermatologist told me that I should always protect my skin with makeup. That way all the germs and elements from the day get washed off at the end of the night instead of seeping into my pores.

When I was headed back down the steps, I almost fell when I got near the bottom. My nerves were shot.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself. “He doesn’t know who you are.”

My heart felt like it was about to hop out of my chest, it was beating so loudly. I took in three deep breaths and headed outside.

When I saw him, it was like time had stood still. He was sitting there spreading orange marmalade on a croissant as one of my maids poured him some coffee and orange juice. His dark-chocolate skin glistened in the sunlight and he was now bald. Damn! There was nothing that I was more attracted to than a baldheaded man. Back in high school, he had sported cornrows most of the time.

He spotted me and stood up as I walked toward him. “Good morning, Mr. Davis.”

“Good morning, Ms. Wicket.”

We shook hands and smiled at each other. I was likely to faint at any second.

I pointed toward the chair from which he had arisen, all six foot four of him. “Please, sit back down and enjoy the meal.”

“As long as you join me.”

“My pleasure.”

After we both got settled at the table and my juice and coffee were both poured, the maid left us to some privacy. Antonio was surely in a spot to see all, but at least we could speak without him overhearing.

“So you’re with G-Clef?”

“Yes, have you read any of our issues before?”

“Can’t say that I have. You’re local?”

He shrugged and fiddled with the recorder app on his iPhone. “Actually, regional. We’re up-and-coming. Right now, outside of a budding subscriber base of about eight thousand, we’re circulated in Georgia, the Carolinas, Alabama, Tennessee, and some parts of Mississippi and Florida.”

“That’s cool,” I said, picking up a mimosa that had been prepared for me before I sat down. “So how long have you been working for them?”

Jonovan chuckled. “Since its inception.” He paused. “Oh, I forgot to mention that we have a pretty huge digital following . . . to make up for our smaller circulation. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time granting me an interview.”

“It’s fine. And I get it; everything worth knowing is primarily in the digital space these days. I’m surprised some of the dinosaur newspapers and magazines are even still around. Some that used to be considered credible, intelligent sources of information have converted into thinly masked tabloids to try to keep readers at all.”

Jonovan agreed. “Exactly! That’s why I started . . .”

I stared deep into his eyes—those sexy-ass eyes. “Aw, so you’re the publisher of G-Clef?”