by Malone, Nana
That had been Izzy’s last straw. She knew their arrangement was unique, with Izzy having legal custody of Nick, and Sabrina having an all access pass. Izzy was also careful never to say anything negative about Sabrina, but she had a feeling Nick knew how she really felt.
He stared out the window, watching the red lights of traffic.
“So, I’m going to petition the Judge again.”
That got his attention. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. I told you I wouldn’t give up.”
“Yeah, I know. But what makes you think the judge will grant it this time? Which excuse of his no longer matters?”
She hated it that he was so astute. “Well, the gallery opening for one. I’ve got a Sports Illustrated shoot coming up too. That means a great income. Something more stable than a struggling studio. That’ll make a difference.”
He shrugged. “Not all the difference. Besides, you’ve done okay.”
No, not all the difference. She still wasn’t married; curse her luck for having a traditional Judge. And the primary reason, she was still black, and Nick was still white.
He glanced at her. “It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have to marry some douche just to adopt me.”
“Watch your language.” She slid him a look. She knew what he wasn’t saying. She shouldn’t have to be white to adopt him. She sighed. “Maybe it won’t matter this time around.”
At the sullen look on Nick’s face, Izzy opted for a change in topic. “So this thing with Samantha, you really like her?”
Nick’s expression was still sullen, but he answered the question. “Yeah, she’s okay.”
“Okay? I caught you guys necking like…like…well, like teenagers, and you only think she’s okay?”
Sullen expression gone, he now looked half mortified, half amused. “Geez, Mom, do you have to ask that? Who the heck says necking? What does that even mean?”
She laughed. “Well, yes, I do have to ask that. I’m your mom. And okay, you do have a point about the use of the word necking. C’mon. Inquiring minds want to know.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t we already cover this the other day?”
“Yeah, guess we did.” She coughed behind her hand to mask the bark of laughter when the tips of his ears turned red.
“Well, she’s the coolest girl in school. And she’s fun. And she’s Coach’s daughter.” He turned to stare out the window. “All the guys say I’m lucky she even talks to me.”
Something about the way he said it pulled on Izzy’s heart. She knew what it was like to be in the shadow of the girl everyone thought was perfect. She didn’t want him hanging out with Samantha Tisdale for the wrong reasons. “Well, do you think you’re lucky to be hanging out?”
Another shrug. “Yeah, she’s cool.”
Ah, to be the mother of a teenage boy.
Izzy mimicked his shrug. “Fair enough. Just keep it in mind. You don’t want to be a follo—”
He rolled his eyes again and finished the statement for her. “Follower, I know. I want to be a leader.”
Izzy feared she’d gone into Grandma territory. She was always trying to find that balance, but as he got older, she never seemed to find it.
He grinned at her, and Izzy squirmed behind the wheel, aware she was about to get a cross examination. “Can we stop talking about my personal life and talk about yours?”
Izzy laughed. “No! We cannot talk about my personal life.”
“What about that pilot guy, Mick?”
“Mike, his name is Mike, and we were never dating.”
Nick pretended he hadn’t known. “Are you sure? Because he showed up at the Arts and Tarts the other night and spent a whole hour trying to butter me up. He could be the one, Mom.”
Izzy laughed. “Doubtful.” She eased off the freeway. “Besides, he’s a potential client.”
Nick sobered again, his face a mask Izzy hadn’t seen on him too often. He looked too adult and world weary when he said, “You know, Mom, you don’t have to avoid guys ‘cause of me. I want you to go out and do stuff besides work.”
A light prickling behind her eyelid signaled oncoming tears but she blinked them back. When had her baby become a man? She took his hand and squeezed. “Nick, me not dating seriously isn’t because of you. It’s because of me. I’ve chosen to focus on my career that’s all.”
He squeezed back. “If that’s how you want to play it. But you should go out more, Mom.” The devilish smile that would likely melt many a female heart as he got older was back. “With someone besides Simple Simon.”
Izzy’s laughter blurted out. Where did he and Jessica come up with this stuff? “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you, Nick, my man.”
Then she remembered she was supposed to be the parent. “And don’t disrespect him. He’s a very nice man.”
Her impression of Simon’s phrase whenever he saw Nick was spot on, and her son burst into a fit of giggles, once again looking like the child he was. “You make him sound like a librarian.” He thought for a moment then added, “Maybe Jessica knows someone.”
Izzy cringed then shook her head. The only men she ever saw Jessica with had more skin tattooed than not, and more piercings than she cared to think about. She shook her head. “I will not have my assistant or my son fix me up. I’m not that sad and pathetic yet.”
“Well, you just let me know when you are. Half my friends have older brothers who think you’re a total MILF.” He shrugged. “I think it’s gross, but one of them might—”
Izzy ignored the reference to older brothers and ran through the letters in her head, but couldn’t figure out what MILF meant. “Dare I ask, what is a MILF?”
Nick shook his head. “Geez, Mom, don’t you know anything? It stands for Mom I’d Like to—” A look of alarm crossed his features. He blushed, and continued, “Follow Around?”
She pulled into their driveway at the end of the cul-de-sac and shot him a glare. Somehow she didn’t think that’s what the F stood for. “Language.”
“What? I didn’t swear.”
Izzy raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes it’s the intent.”
He muttered something that sounded like “Yeah, yeah,” as he climbed out of the car.
As she followed him in, she wondered if she really had become so pathetic her son needed to fix her up. Catching a glimpse of her makeup-less face in the hallway mirror, she had a feeling the answer was yes. Before she could close the door behind her, her purse started to ring. The theme song from Buffy the Vampire Slayer filled the hallway. Izzy made a mental note to add Jessica to the list of people not allowed anywhere near her phone.
She juggled a camera bag as she dug into her purse. When she retrieved the phone, it took her a minute to realize it wasn’t a call coming in but a text message. Once through the door, she used her foot to kick it closed and placed both bags on the floor. Her phone continued to incessantly sing Buffy at her until she tapped the message icon. She really had to figure out all the features on the blasted iPhone.
Izzy didn’t recognize the number, but she instantly knew who sent the message. It’s rude to hang up on someone, you know. Didn’t your mother teach you better?
She absently wondered if she needed to change her number as she typed out a message. What are you going to do, spank me?
It wasn’t until after she hit send and mumbled to herself, “That’ll teach him,” that she realized the suggestive nature of her message. Or rather, how he might interpret it.
As if on cue, the sounds of Buffy once again filled the hallway, and Izzy half expected vampires to waltz around the corner. She angrily pushed on the text icon. Is that an invitation?
The rush of liquid heat to her core as she stared at his message didn’t bode well for her vow to ignore him. Playing games with Jason Cartwright would only get her hurt.
****
Izzy Connors was dangerous to Jason’s focus and recovery. He had to stop thinking about her and stay on track. He’d already nearly severed a finger
fiddling with one of the ball machines and almost dislocated his shoulder when lifting too much weight. He squeezed his eyes shut as he completed the last rep of leg lifts. Izzy’s last message to him played over and over in his head. Had she been flirting? Did she have a secret spanking fetish? If it was anyone else, he’d know the answer, but she was different.
Not paying attention, he let the weights slam down too quickly. His knee shot bursts of pain up and down his leg at the shock. He let out a curse as he rubbed the throb until it abated. It hurt, but still felt better than the disaster match the day before. The aches in his muscles and the throbbing in his knee were his body’s way of telling him he’d overdone it the past few days. But after seeing Izzy again, he’d needed to work off some of the tension. It wasn’t everyday he ran into the one woman he’d let himself love.
The Izzy he remembered had been inquisitive and sweet. But the woman he’d seen the other day was neither of those. More like closed off and cautious. And dating that robot boyfriend of hers—Jason couldn’t believe she was happy with him. Maybe she is. He quelled the burst of envy in his heart. He didn’t have any right to it. She wasn’t his.
He moved over to the treadmill and entered in the appropriate workout selection. All the while he tried to ignore the guilt he felt about the last time he’d seen Izzy. He should have called her. Had the opportunity to more than once. He should have gone back to see her. He should never have gone anywhere near Sabrina Reems. Should should should. He couldn’t change any of that now.
He could have insisted on seeing her when he went back to campus, but he’d taken the easy route, Sabrina. He hadn’t even thought about Sabrina in years, but seeing Izzy brought back those memories. Whatever had possessed him to choose Sabrina over Izzy all those years ago was long gone. He prayed he’d exorcised the desperate need for self- destruction.
For an hour, as he ran, the steady whir whir whir of the treadmill soothed his mind. One step in front of the other. He could do that.
“Anything you want to tell me?” His manager’s steady voice came from behind him, startling him into tripping.
Not sure how to respond, he kept it simple. “Hi, Aaron.” Does he know? Adrenaline poured through his body, urging him to run and release some of it. But he didn’t. He kept his pace and schooled his expression. Aaron either wanted to discuss Michaels or Jason’s poor showing in practice. Either way, he wasn’t in the mood to rehash.
Too bad, because his manager wasn’t in the mood to stay quiet. Aaron pulled out Jason’s exercise report. “Is that all you have to say?”
Shit.
“I wish I knew what you wanted to hear, man.” His heart rate monitor beeped at him, and he slowed his pace.
“How about the truth? How bad is your knee, Jason?”
“Not that bad. I’m recovering.”
“Is that why Brian recommends a full physical analysis in two months before he clears you to play?”
Shit. Brian had no right. “What the hell does he know? The guy’s a blowhard. I have no intention of waiting two months before I get the all clear.”
“Damn it, Jase. Do I need to remind you that you selected this trainer? Plucked him out of obscurity from your alma mater? You’re not going to find anyone this good in such a short timeframe.” He slapped the folder on the neighboring treadmill. “This is the kind of shit you’re supposed to tell me about. You can’t keep looking me in the eye and telling me you’re fine. If your knee’s done, then I need to know that so I can restructure your career.”
Jason continued to walk at a steady pace on the incline, ignoring the throb in his knee. Tread lightly. He surveyed Aaron’s bloodshot eyes and disheveled suit before checking the wall clock. Eight in the morning. If he knew his friend, he was out past his bedtime so it might as well be dawn. “Look, don’t listen to that idiot. Get rid of him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. How about you have a little faith and let me worry about my knee? You just worry about getting me in as a wildcard in a couple of matches in the next few months. I’ll be ready.” Jason flashed his all will be well smile at his manager.
“You can’t fire him because he’s telling you something you don’t like. When are you going to learn that you can’t charm and bullshit your way out of everything? Your career is serious. We need to figure something out if this trainer isn’t working.”
Jason wiped his arms off then ditched his heavy towel, using his forearm to swipe away sweat from his forehead. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not trying to charm or BS my way out of anything. I’ll be ready. On my own if I have to. Don’t fire him, but you better tell him I’ll be damned if I’ll listen to some bullshit about not being able to do this. Even if you don’t believe it, I do. Even if fucking Brian doesn’t believe.”
Aaron wiped a hand across his shadowy stubble. “Okay, look. I get it. You want your shot at a comeback. You’re getting ready for a run on your old title.” He placed both hands on the side rail of the treadmill. “You might not want to listen to Brian, but if you do some serious shit to yourself, and we’re not prepared, you’re fucked. No title, no more shots at a title. And, if we don’t clean up your rep, no cushy broadcasting job, no training camp for the aspiring kiddies. None of it. Is that what you want?”
Jason leveled his gaze at Aaron. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, reminding himself that Aaron wasn’t the enemy. “I hear you, but get Brian off my case. If I wanted doubters in my camp, I’d have kept Michaels around.”
Chapter Seven
“I will see Izzy, if I have to physically remove you to do it.”
Izzy’s head snapped up from her light table at the commotion from the reception office.
“Over my dead body, Simple Simon. She’s working her tail off to try and complete the impossible, thanks to your poor planning. You can’t interrupt her.”
A crash exploded down the hallway followed by colorful expletives from both Simon and Jessica.
“I’m her fucking manager. I know what’s best for her career.”
“Oh, remove that fucking stick up your ass, you pompous douche bag.” Jessica’s shrill voice echoed off of the reception walls.
“Tsk, tsk. How would your freak of a boyfriend feel about your language, Jessica?” Simon’s voice chilled the air.
As Izzy rushed out of her office, her heart slammed against her ribs. Voices grew louder and harsher as she rounded the hallway.
“You’re nothing but a small minded, little dicked, mother fucker, no wonder Izzy—”
“What the hell is going on here?” Izzy interrupted in a rush cutting off the rest of Jessica’s tirade.
They stood facing off over the reception desk, tension and anger crackling between them. If Izzy didn’t know better, she’d swear the tension was…sexual. Jessica’s colorful red poodle skirt and matching sweater set a good barometer for her mood. Simon’s ice blue tie shifted and gleamed, reflected the recessed lighting above as he loosened it. She looked like a sparkling firecracker and the look in his eyes bore frosty resentment.
Izzy tried to keep her voice calm. “Is there a legitimate reason you’re shouting the studio down? Lucky for you there’s no one in here right now. What the hell is wrong with you two?”
Both spoke at once.
“She wouldn’t let me in to see you.”
“He tried to bully his way past me.”
She stared, incredulous. “You have got to be kidding me. What are you two? Children?” Before either could speak, she put up a hand. “Enough. Simon, I asked Jessica to keep everyone out, including you, so there’s no need to verbally lambaste her.” She turned to Jessica. “Thanks for doing your best, but next time, just come get me before it escalates. I can’t have a shouting match in here. There could have been customers.”
Both of them stared at her with a mixture of anger, antagonism and angst.
A red-faced Jessica muttered a brief apology, then bent to retrieve the discarded desk phone, paperweight and invoices from their scatter
ed locations on the floor. Her contrite attitude toward Izzy didn’t translate to Simon, however. He stared at her bent over form, eyes half lidded. He drew in several deep breaths, before turning to face Izzy again. There was something in his expression, Izzy had never seen before—uncontrolled, almost primal.
She dragged him back to her office determined to diffuse any potential flare-ups. Once ensconced in the relative privacy of the brightly lit room, she gave him her full attention. “You owe her an apology. I’d make sure you give it to her before you leave.”
He stepped back as confusion lit his eyes. “Me? You’re going to make me apologize? She’s your assistant. She should know I have important matters to discuss with you, whether she likes it or not. And—”
Izzy narrowed her eyes to slits. “She’s also my friend. She was doing her job so I could work. Apologize.”
Izzy watched as the last of his annoyance seeped out of him, replaced with contrition.
“Okay, you’re right. I was an ass. She just drives me crazy.”
“Whatever it is, squelch it. I can’t deal with your squabbles and still get work done.”
“Actually, that’s what I’m here about.”
Izzy moved back to her light table. “What’s the urgent matter that couldn’t wait till this afternoon’s meeting with the publisher?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You mean besides you calling to back out of the photo shoot with Jason Cartwright?”
Blood suffused her cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “Oh, that.”
“Yeah. That pesky little photo shoot with Sports Illustrated? Why would you jump to that solution without talking to me first?”
Yes, why had she tried to avoid talking to him? How was she supposed to explain working with Jason was a non-starter? Simon would read something into it. She opted for a safer excuse. “Look, I know you had to pull a lot of strings to get me the job, I just can’t manage it and the gallery opening. It’s too much.”
“What is it you can’t handle? It’s a couple of shoots, Iz. This is Sports Illustrated. They’ll do half the work for you. All you need to do is take glorious photos.”