Page 3 of Vaughn & Cori (D-Ville Projects #7)

Cori

“You said no to him?” Sheena asks, staring at the article I posted about Jaylen Winston and his father.

After a quick Google search on Vaughn Winston, I spiraled down a rabbit hole for half the night, not coming back out until I had a comprehensive story about athletes and the children who successfully follow in their footsteps.

Is it a groundbreaking piece meant to save the world?

No, but it’s more substantial than the tired, predictable Friday night play-by-plays everyone else regularly posts.

The best part is I didn’t have to compromise my journalistic integrity to do it.

“What was I supposed to do?” I ask, already knowing her answer.

“Say yes. Shit, while we’re talking, if you still need an interview with the son, I’ll gladly do the damn thing for you with his daddy,” she says, studying his picture with a smile on her face.

“Trust, if it were under different circumstances, I wouldn’t think twice about saying yes to him, but I can’t go out like that,” I say, admitting my interest and Sheena huffs in response, like she’s put off by my statement.

“Go out like what? You think those critically acclaimed journalists got to where they are by being nice and following the rules?” She shakes her head, answering her own question before continuing.

“No. The OGs had to get in the field and get their hands dirty. If I was at the game, I would’ve at the very least taken Mr. Winston up on his offer and at the most mollywhopped the bitch who pushed you in the back. .. allegedly.”

She pauses, throwing up air quotes when she says allegedly, to mock my recollection of how I got pushed into Vaughn Winston, and we both laugh it off even though I know she’s dead serious.

It’s a running joke at The Daily , but we all know Sheena’s hands and mouth are just as potent as her pen game.

Most times, she uses all three for her benefit, but then there’re times when she throws all that out the window and acts without hesitation.

She’s never been fired because of it, but after a few slip-ups, she went from writing front page articles daily to editing the weekly obituaries.

So now I have to be the constant voice of reason between us.

“If I have to get my hands dirty for a story, then I don’t want it,” I say and she scoffs.

“Obviously. It’s a damn shame too because you’ve got talent.

” She flips through my most recent portfolio until she finds what she’s looking for.

It’s a picture I took last summer at Highland Park during a streetball tournament.

The original shot is in full color and has a stark contrast from one side of the photo to the other, depicting the crowd’s obvious clothing choices, giving the photo an ombre effect.

The picture goes from a sea of green of the Bedford Homes residents to the stark black and white associated with the D-Ville Projects.

The message in the photo was clear and already there.

I just emphasized it. Digitally filtering out all of the colors outside of the whites, blacks, grays, and greens in a way that makes the imagery more impactful.

“You think somebody will see this and think, ‘Oh, I wonder who she had to fuck to get this shot?’” Sheena asks, still holding up the photo like I’m seeing it for the first time, and I can’t deny her logic.

“No.”

“Exactly. People always like to come out of their mouths about a woman sleeping her way to the top, but talent is talent, Cori, and a good dick down doesn’t change that.”

She gives me a look to emphasize her point, then puts the picture back in its place and begins packing up her work area well before our five o’clock stopping point.

“Where are you going?” I ask, checking the time again, and she slows down long enough to answer with a sly smile.

“We’re going to find Mr. Quid Pro Quo. I figure we can catch him on his way home from work, set up another run in, and since you ain’t have no smoke for ol’ girl at the game, I’ll gladly be the one to push you into his path again.”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” I ask, regretting I even mentioned that lady at the game.

“Absolutely not. Especially if you point her out where I can see.”

“We don’t even know where he lives,” I say, trying to discourage Sheena’s impulsive plan with a logical obstacle, or at least slow it down, but she immediately comes up with an answer.

“Use your reporter brain, Cori. Jaylen plays for Douglasville Prep, right? All we have to do is ride through Highland Park or D-Ville and ask…”

Before she can finish laying out her plan, our phones ping simultaneously with a message from our boss. When I look down at the screen, I can already feel Sheena smiling my way as I read the words that make her plan more feasible.

“See how I just manifested that? It was quick too,” she says, holding up her phone as proof, like I didn’t just receive the same message.

Apparently, Jaylen Winston’s set to make an announcement in the next hour, and it’s my job to report it, putting me and his father in the same proximity sooner than I expect.

When we make it to Douglasville Prep, there’s a good number of people gathered around the gymnasium that has the usual setup for these types of announcements, and Jaylen’s in the center of it all, sitting at the table with a woman beside him.

“Is that Jaylen’s mom? She’s cute and all, but she’s got a few years on her,” Sheena whispers, sizing the woman up before I can tell her who she actually is.

According to everything I read in my deep dive, Jaylen’s mother is not in the picture and the woman sitting with him today is his grandmother on his father’s side.

“Will you stop?” I mumble out of the side of my mouth. “That’s his grandmother.”

“Oh, I was about to say...”

Sheena doesn’t finish the thought and lets her words trail off after I give her a warning look, willing her to shut the hell up or at least lower her voice. It’s one thing for her to unabashedly share her thoughts with me in private, but doing it in public like this is getting tired.

Before the announcement is set to start, the MC runs down a list of Jaylen’s accolades that has everyone in the room snapping their fingers in appreciation, clapping, or cheering in some kind of way.

There are even a few guys who call out DP in a low tone loud enough to carry across the room as she hands Jaylen the mic.

When he takes a moment to scan the room with a smile, everyone around us gets choked up, and he soaks it all in before looking over the selection of hats in front of him.

He dances his hand over the CFU hat, looking at his grandmother, then the one beside it, teasing her and everyone in the room before announcing his decision.

“After careful consideration, I’ve decided to follow my homie Big Kov to Crescent Falls U,” he says, grabbing the hat to pull down on his head, and I get caught in the moment just like everyone else.

Flashes fill the room and snap me out of it, reminding me what I’m here for.

So, I move to get a few shots for my article as Jaylen poses for the camera and hugs his grandmother.

When she pulls him in tighter to murmur something in his ear, he nods, and the moment seems too personal for us onlookers.

Especially when his dad joins in the hug and stares up at the ceiling whispering a few words of his own.

“Whew, they got me choked up in here,” Sheena blows out, fanning herself as the family breaks away from their embrace, recovering from the emotional moment. They’re all smiles again, and when I take my last picture, Vaughn Winston’s smile lands on me.

“If I could have everyone’s attention,” the MC says, trying to get her voice to carry over the crowded room now that she doesn’t have the microphone. “This concludes the press conference, but Jaylen will stay for questions and pictures over to the left side of the room.”

“So are you going over there… or over there?” Sheena asks, nodding her head to the line then back in Vaughn’s direction, like his offer should still be an option now that I can wait in line for an interview like everyone else.

“I’ll be over here,” I say, walking to the left side of the room, and she follows me, grumbling about manifesting and missed chances the whole way.

“The universe had your back today and you’re out here squandering opportunities,” she says, refusing to let the idea of me and Vaughn go.

“This is the opportunity,” I say, pointing at my spot in the back of the line before I notice Vaughn walking our way out of the corner of my eye and Sheena chuckles when she sees him too.

“You know what I think?” she asks and I glance back at her in confusion.

“What?”

“Universe three… Cori zero.”

Before I can ask what she means, she gives me a mischievous smile and a hard nudge right back into Vaughn’s path.

This time when I stumble, he catches me by the waist with a curious expression. Then he looks over at Sheena, confused.

“I had to do it,” Sheena says, raising her hands in surrender with a smirk, trying to explain her reason for pushing me right in front of his face while I try to separate myself from Vaughn and his musky scent that steals my focus.

“Excuse her,” I say, needlessly smoothing out his shirt again. Ever since the last time I had the pleasure of touching him, I’ve been subconsciously thinking about doing it again. I guess the universe does have my back today.

“Excuse you too,” he says with a cocky grin, letting his eyes roam down my body before nodding in Sheena’s direction.

“This is my first time seeing her, but your second time running up on me like this. So it can’t all be on her.

If you didn’t already shut me down, I’d think you were trying to push up. ”

I hesitate to respond, looking toward Sheena, who’s backing away until she’s damn near at the door, throwing two fingers up in the air at me as she turns to leave. Vaughn laughs at the exchange before motioning over to Jaylen.

“In case you were wondering, the offer’s still on the table.”

“I think I’m good on the interview,” I say without hesitation and the cocky grin he’s wearing drops a little.

Originally, I fully intended on standing in this line to interview Jaylen without agreeing to his dad’s proposition.

Hell, I still can, but an alternate option comes to mind instead, and my plans shift.

I can write a bomb ass article for The Daily and go out with Vaughn Winston, all while keeping my journalistic integrity intact. I back out of the line and pack my camera up, confident I can create something that’ll set me apart from every other reporter here.

“You sure?” he asks skeptically.

“Yeah, I got what I need,” I say, patting my crossbody bag while I work out how to play this. “Besides, the six other reporters getting the same access makes the idea of an interview less appealing. Especially when I’m the only one being harassed to get access.”

I flash him a sweet smile, expecting him to ask me out without the caveat.

But he frowns and tilts his head toward the side door exit instead, then walks away without a word.

It takes a moment for me to decide, but I follow him without question, hanging back only long enough to not draw attention.

When I make it to the dimly lit hallway, it takes a second to spot him in his dark clothing, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, studying me.

We get stuck staring at each other until he looks away, cursing under his breath as he runs his hand over his bearded chin.

“You know I was just fucking with you, right? As long as Jay is cool with it, you can get your interview just like everyone else… no strings,” he says as I fight the urge to close the distance between us and lean against that wall opposite him while he continues to explain.

“I wasn’t trying to sexually harass you or no shit like that.

I was just shooting my shot. But I’mma fall back, so go ahead and get your interview. ”

He waves toward the door, but I don’t move.

“I promise I’m good on the interview.” I shrug nonchalantly and he looks up and down the hallway before pushing himself off the wall, stepping toward me.

“Nah, for real, go ahead.”

His voice is low, almost pleading, and too sexy as he reaches for my hand like he’s going to take me to the table himself. The act is so persuasive I almost let him, but I move just out of his reach at the last minute, doubling down on my decision.

“I’m for real too. I don’t need the interview, but if you were trying to shoot your shot, then keep that same energy. Don’t switch up now,” I say, halfway begging him to ask me out again, and he chuckles.

“First, you say I’m harassing you and shit. Now you want me to keep that energy?” He shakes his head, almost turning to walk away before he comes back, leaning in to be eye level with me. “Are you good? Because I’m fucking confused?”

His demeanor goes from relaxed and leaning against the wall to tense in a matter of minutes, like I’ve stretched his patience past its limits.

“Well, when you come on some bullshit, that’s usually what you get back,” I say with all the audacity as he pulls back and points to himself in disbelief.

“I’m on some bullshit?”

“You were when you tried to get a date in exchange for an interview. I don’t do those types of favors for a story, and I don’t need to. But now that the interview’s a nonfactor, we can clear the way for… whatever.”

I started off strong, but when the word whatever comes off my lips, it’s low, raspy, and drawn out, carrying more emotion than I intend. So much that it travels from my mouth to his ears, seemingly soothing all the traces of stress, when a sleepy smile spreads across his face.

“Whatever?” he asks skeptically, drawing attention to his lips when his tongue peeks out to swipe the top and bottom in one motion.

“That’s what I said,” I say boldly, not even recognizing myself.

“Can I test that theory tonight?” he asks.

Damn, the way he looks at me makes it hard not to ditch the work I have to do after this and say yes, but… instead I meet his plans halfway.

“I can’t tonight, but definitely this weekend.”

He considers my offer for a moment, then nods, pulling out his phone to take my number and text me.

“Bet. I’ll let you know the day and time to be ready for whatever,” he says with a smile and it’s all I can do to turn and walk away.