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stuff.”
    â€œI don’t have time to do all that stuff,” I said, heading back to my car. “She is just going in and updating everything. It’s no big deal.”
    â€œIf you say so,” Sheridan said.
    I smiled. “I say so. I’m out. Don’t call me, because my phone won’t be back on. Today is all about me.”
    â€œWhen is it not all about you, Maya?” She laughed. “When is it not?”

Chapter 8
    I have a boyfriend. Even if he’s trippin’, I have a boyfriend.
    I had to keep telling myself that over and over. But the jacked-up part was I found myself wondering if I really did have a boyfriend. Bryce hadn’t talked to me in over two weeks now. I was trying to be patient, but he ought to know, Maya Morgan didn’t hold out for anyone.
    And, judging from the way J. Love was all up in my face, I didn’t have to.
    â€œSo, tell me again why a girl as fine as you doesn’t have a man,” he said, leaning in closer to me. J. Love was an R & B singer who had to be the hottest thing going right now. He was so fine, it was ridiculous. He had smooth chocolate skin, curly hair, and a body that was out of this world. He looked like a much finer version of Trey Songz.
    I shook myself out of the trance his sexy voice seemed to be luring me into. It was no wonder he had passed Chris Brown as one of the top R & B singers. Between his looks and his voice, he was all of that. “I’m interviewing you,” I said. “Not the other way around.”
    He grinned. “My mom always told me if you want to know the answer to a question, just ask. So I’m asking.” He grinned.
    I couldn’t help it; I crossed my long, Pilates-toned legs, making sure my thigh was peeking out from the slit in my pencil skirt. “Well, I don’t know where you got the idea that I don’t have a man.”
    He leaned back, disappointed. “Of course you do.”
    â€œI do.” I paused. “Well, kinda, sorta. We’re on the outs right now.”
    â€œIn my book, that means no. So I need to know how I can get in.”
    I had to push down the butterflies turning backflips in my stomach. “Mr. Love . . .”
    â€œJ. For you, it’s J,” he said, cutting me off.
    Oh, my, God! He was so fine!
    â€œJ,” I said, pulling myself together. “I’m flattered, but—”
    â€œWhy don’t you let me take you out?” He stared at me. Hard. Almost as if he were trying to put me into some kind of deep trance or something.
    I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me, so I stared right back. “Mr. Love, I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
    He turned back to his publicist, who was standing off to the side. “Yo, Cheryl, is this interview over?”
    She nodded. “It is. They only had fifteen minutes.”
    J. Love looked at his watch, which I had spotted right away was a Rolex Submariner. That watch was no joke. It cost $250,000. I knew because my mom had bought it for my dad for their anniversary, and he had made her take it back because it was “ridiculously expensive.”
    â€œIt’s been twenty minutes,” J. Love said, looking up at me. “So it looks like you owe me five minutes.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. J. Love was so smooth. I had to give him his props. The cameraman who was taping the interview winked at me as he cut off his camera and walked off. J. Love stood and walked right in front of me.
    â€œSeriously, our business is done. Let me take you out.”
    I was so tempted to say yes, but I really didn’t want to do Bryce like that. Besides, there were a bunch of people standing around trying to act like they weren’t listening, but I knew they were. I didn’t want these busters all up in my business.
    I stood, coming face-to-face with him. “I’m going to have to take a rain check, Mr. Love.”
    He put his hand over his