“We’ll figure it out by tomorrow,” Claudia assures me. “In the meantime, my stomach is growling.”
“Yeah, mine’s pretty angry too.” Annelise chortles. “And if I keep drinking on an empty stomach…”
“Say no more.” I rise. “Let’s head to the buffet.”
I know the moment that Rugged enters the studio. I hear the excitement in the air. Even a couple of squeals.
I’m in my office, but I don’t move. I sit casually at my desk, a current tabloid open on my lap. It’s trash, I know, but I read it to escape the reality of the heartbreaking stories I often report on the news.
My door is ajar, but someone raps on it nonetheless. “Lishelle?”
“Come in.”
It’s Carmen, one of the production assistants, and she’s grinning from ear to ear. “Rugged is here.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I took him to the green room. Is that where you want to meet him? Linda says she’ll be at least ten minutes. I didn’t want to leave him waiting.”
I glance around. My office looks presentable. “Why don’t you bring him here?”
Carmen disappears, but less than five seconds later, she pops her head back in my door. “Can I ask you something?”
I lower my magazine to my desk, but don’t close it. “Of course.”
“I know this is going to sound silly, but I’m a huge fan of his. I thought he was hot on television, but in person he’s even more attractive. Wait till you see him.”
“What exactly is it you want me to do?”
“Ask him for his autograph for me. Please, pretty please.”
“I don’t get it. You’ve met him. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“Because I’ll die!”
Whatever, I think. But I say, “Sure.”
A few minutes later Carmen reappears with Rugged. Her face is flushed—clearly she’s blushing. I’m completely shocked, since I never figured Carmen the type to listen to rap music, much less be a huge fan of Rugged’s. Hell, I’m not a big fan of rap. I have caught glimpses of Rugged’s videos featuring women in barely there bikinis on late-night TV, and I wasn’t exactly impressed. But for the cause of raising money for charity, I’m happy to embrace the idea of working with him.
“Lishelle, this is Rugged. Obviously.” She grins and nods, her unkempt bangs bobbing with her bouncing head.
My God, what has gotten into her?
“Rugged, this is Lishelle Jennings.”
I close the tabloid and toss it onto my desk. Then I rise from my chair and cross the room with my hand extended. Rugged meets me, takes my hand in his and shakes it.
And surprisingly, when our hands touch, I feel a jolt of heat. Something about Rugged has sparked a sexual reaction in me, one I didn’t expect.
“Hello,” he says.
Swallowing, I pull my hand away. “Hello.”
I don’t miss the way his eyes skim over my body. How can I—the move is so bold.
And makes a sex-starved woman like me think about riding a large, hard cock…
I clear my throat and add, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a fan.”
“I’ma fan o’ yours, too.”
Behind us, Carmen is standing stupidly, like she’s frozen in place. Of course, she wants an autograph.
“Rugged, would you mind signing an autograph for Carmen? She’s one of your biggest fans.”
Now Carmen’s eyes widen in alarm. Rugged glances over his shoulder at her.
“She’s much too modest to ask you,” I go on. “Isn’t that right, Carmen?”
“Um…well, I didn’t want to bother you.”
“No bother,” Rugged tells her. “You got a piece of paper? Or do you want me to something else—like your shirt?” Rugged’s eyes move to Carmen’s breasts, which look bountiful beneath her thin, cotton T-shirt.
“Um.” Carmen’s response is shaky. “My…my shirt?”
“I’ve got a Sharpie.” I go back to my desk, scoop it up, and pass the black marker to Rugged.
After Rugged signs his scrawling signature on her shirt, Carmen can’t stop saying thank you as she backs her way out the door. When she’s gone, I move to the door and close it.
“So,” I begin without preamble. “You’re interested in helping out with the pledge drive I’m planning.”
“Definitely. When Morgan called to tell me about it, I was excited, man. The city of Atlanta’s my home. And the people here, they been good to me. I wanna give somethin’ back.”
“Please, sit.” I gesture to the leather chair at my desk. As Rugged settles there, I sit in my own chair on the opposite side.
“Have you had any thoughts about how to participate? I’m thinking you could come into the studio, join me on TV as we appeal to people to open up their wallets.”
“That all you want? Yo, I was thinkin’ of doin’ a concert or somethin’.”
I perk up at that. “A concert?”
“Yeah, a summer concert. Maybe Labor Day Weekend, or wheneva you want. I’ll do a concert, and all the proceeds will go to the kids.”
The idea is so brilliant I could kiss this guy. “That’s fucking amazing.” I cover my mouth and mumble, “Excuse my Spanish.”
“And see, what I was thinkin’ was that some of my homies could hold concerts in other parts of the country. Maybe ten, fifteen major cities. One big ‘Give back to da kids’ event. Ya know? We could raise some serious fuckin’ cash.’ Scuse my Spanish.” He grins.
I am so excited by this idea, my heart is beating seriously fast. “You think it will work?”
“I’ma try my hardest to help out. We gonna do this, we do it big.”
“I like the way you think.”
There’s a pause, then Rugged asks, “What else you like?”
The question catches me off guard—but the slight upturn of the rapper’s mouth, plus the way he’s rested his thumb in the loose waistband of his jeans above his crotch, makes it clear I didn’t misunderstand the inflection in his voice.
He’s just propositioned me.
“Excuse me?” I ask. I try to sound appalled, but the truth is, I’m not. In fact, my panties just got wet at Rugged’s words. There’s something about a guy who goes for what he wants that is a huge turn-on.
“I’m a fan, Miss Jennings. I like you. A lot.”
“And how old are you?” I ask, my tone much like that of an adult questioning a child who’s been caught throwing rocks at her window. “Nineteen? Twenty?”
“Twenty-fo’.”
“Oh.” I force a laugh, trying, I guess, to hide my sudden sexual anxiety. “Like that’s old enough.”
“It sho’ is,” Rugged tells me confidently.”
My