so that we can go over this in more detail.”
“Please do,” she replied as Mimi walked in.
There was no love lost between Michael’s best friend and Nic. Ever since they were undergrads at Spelman and Morehouse, Mimi and Nic had butted heads. MJ could never put her finger on why, and at this point she’d chalked it up as one of life’s unexplained mysteries.
“Ooh,” Mimi said, giving Nic a cool glance. “Am I, hopefully, interrupting something?”
“Hello and goodbye, Mimi. I was just leaving.” Nic strode to the door.
“Don’t let me stop you.” Mimi took the seat that Nic had vacated.
“Guys, this is my office, not the quad,” Michael said. “Nic, we’ll talk soon.”
Mimi made a face and crossed her legs as Nic walked out the door. “Please tell me that was about business.”
“It was and you’re rude!” MJ broke out into laughter. “I don’t get you two.”
“Whatever. Are you in as much pain as I am?”
“Not you, Miss Marathon Queen.” MJ rolled her eyes. “Let me just go on record and remind you that this morning’s run was your idea.”
Mimi yawned. “Well, I had a bit of a workout last night with my loving husband, so three miles was a bit much this morning.” Mimi stretched her left foot out. “And these heels are murderous. But I had to show up at the Blog-Her conference looking like a million bucks.”
“Umm, TMI, Mimi! How’s the conference going so far?” Michael asked, quickly changing the subject. MJ had watched her friend rise to fame and infamy with the power of the keystroke as the creator of the Mis-Adventures of Mimi blog. After her public spat with the online dating website Fast Love, Mimi had fallen in love with her attorney, Brent Daniels. Michael had hoped their real love story would’ve made her friend a little less controversial on her blog. It hadn’t and that was why the public loved her. Mimi still wrote about relationships and real life issues.
Her last post had been about women not waiting for a man’s potential to kick in while dating. The post had gotten over seven million hits.
“I think I might have started something positive,” Mimi said with a smirk.
“Why does that statement scare me?”
“Because you’re nuts. I met a web designer who wants to make a site that celebrates women. Highlights our trials and tribulations. Falls from grace and comebacks. There are a few sisters looking to create some dating apps that aren’t just about your looks and can match couples by the books they’ve read.”
“That does sound positive. I could see myself logging on to an app like that.” MJ smiled. “And what else has been going on at the conference?”
Mimi smiled and excitement sparkled in her eyes. “A lot of good ideas in our early sessions. There’s even talk of a No More Mistresses website that would list all of the married men pretending to be single on dating websites.” Mimi kicked off her shoes. “Enough about me. Why was Nic here?”
“Business. He wants to do a citywide jazz fest and I’d be handling the marketing for it. We’re just sketching things out right now. But it sounds like it could be a great idea.”
“I hope it’s successful for your sake. But Nic can hug and kiss my—”
“Got it, Mimi.”
“I forgot to tell you this morning, but Jamal asked about you over dinner.”
MJ smiled and Mimi pointed at her. “What?”
“You and Jamal. What’s that all about?”
MJ sucked her teeth. “Jamal and I are just friends. He’s a foodie, despite the fact that he looks like he eats nothing but protein bars. We were going out Saturday night, but I got a call from a client because of some negative social-media reviews. We had brunch Sunday morning. Then he had to set up security at a venue for a concert or something.”
“So, this thing with you and Jamal is still light and fun or...”
“Stop it. Because for the last time, we’re just friends.” And Michael wondered if they would ever be more than that. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that she wanted to be more than Jamal’s friend, but she also knew his reputation as a ladies’ man, so she kept her heart as guarded as possible. The last thing she would be was another name on his list of conquests. And she wasn’t about to get her heart smashed again by expecting too much from a man who didn’t know what he wanted.
* * *
Jamal loved his family, especially his grandmother Ethel. Every Monday, she called him to make sure he was taking care of himself—as if he was a teenager away at boarding school. And every Monday, he looked forward to his early morning conversations with his beloved grandmother.
But at this moment, he needed to get off the phone. A blast from his not-so-distant past had just made eye contact with him.
“Gran, I have to go,” he said as he saw a woman walking toward him with a smile on her face. How was it that the one morning he decided to go out for breakfast, he ran into Loony Lu-Lu, also known as Lucy Becker? The wannabe Atlanta socialite couldn’t fathom that Jamal rejected her advances and she couldn’t take no for an answer. And she always seemed to show up out of nowhere like a ghost of bad dates past. Jamal had gone out with Lucy only once. They’d attended a concert where she spent most of the night on her phone Tweeting and taking selfies for Instagram. It was a boring date, and when she outlined her plans for being on a reality show, Jamal knew he’d never go out with that crazy bird again.
Too bad she hadn’t gotten the message.
“Jamal, I do wish you would settle down like Brent. Look at him and Mimi, just as happy as they can be,” Ethel said.
“Gran, how do you know that they’re happy?”
“Because I read her blog! Anyway, go ahead and do whatever it is you said that you had to do and make sure you get me some fresh crawfish for my Savannah boil this year. I know that stuff you brought last year was frozen.”
Jamal chuckled, surprised that his grandmother read Mimi’s saucy blog. He remembered how Brent had gotten all out of sorts when his wife had written about their kiss on that infamous blog. “All right, Gran, fresh crawfish and settle down like Brent. I’m going to give you a call tomorrow.” He disconnected the call and bit back a groan. If Jamal thought he was going to get away from Lu-Lu, he was wrong.
“Jamal Carver,” she exclaimed, “you could’ve invited me to breakfast and I would’ve gladly accepted. Now you had to eat alone and where is the fun in that?”
“Hello, Lucy. Being alone is always fun—best company ever.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and dropped it on the table. Rising to his feet, Jamal reached for his wallet and left enough cash to pay for his breakfast and tip his waitress. “Well, I’m off to work. Have a nice day,” he said.
“How about we have a nice night, together?”
“I’m good,”
