Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) by Angela Burt-Murray Read Free Book Online Page B

highlights my hairdresser put in this morning. I let the left side of my hair fall sexily over one of my hazel-g reen eyes.
    Wearing the New York Gladiator colors of black and red, I was officially ready for my close-up. I grabbed my phone from the bathroom counter, placed one hand on my hip, and with my pinky finger, pulled up the side of my thong and positioned the camera to shoot. After reviewing the shot, I clicked forward, found Marcus’s number, and typed: Your “Welcome to New York” Present and press ed “Send.”
    Marcus King will be mine. And judging from the immediate response to my text, it was going to happen sooner than I planned.
    MK: Damnnnn, baby. U got me horny as hell lookin at ur sexy assssss!!
    Laila: Well, why don’t U come get some of this brown suga. Lap dance? Shower sex? However U want it!
    MK: R U in NYC???
    Laila : Yessssss
    MK: U got my soldier hard as a brick! Meet me at Four Seasons at 6:30. Ask for my man Christian at the desk and he’ll hook U up.
    Laila: See U soon
    MK: And make sure U wear that sexy shit U got on now

    It was only 4:00, so I had time to take care of a little business before I got pleasured. I pulled up the number of Miki Woods, the fast-talking, Emmy-award-winning Glam Network executive in charge of programming who’d been stalking me about doing a reality show. Over the last few weeks, she had been putting on the hard sell to get me to at least consider shooting a pilot. Her concept was kind of hot. It would be the first-ever interactive web-based real-time reality show called Whatever Laila Wants . . . with the tagline “She’s Every Man’s Fantasy and Every Wife’s Nightmare.” It would follow my life as I build my “modeling career,” party in New York City, and look for Mr. Right. Viewers would get to interact during the show through the show’s website. Miki was blowing up my phone, salivating over the opportunity to be the first to capture my rumored relationship with New York Gladiator Marcus King. Showing Miki our X-rated text message exchanges over the past few weeks had only whet her appetite even more, and it was getting my offer price close to seve n figures.
    “Hey, Miki, it’s Laila,” I said when her assistant, Tyra, patched my call through to her boss.
    “Hi, Laila!” Miki gushed into the phone. “How are you? Did you see the press conferen ce today?”
    This chick ain’t even slick, but I decided to play with her. Maybe I could even turn this seven-figure deal i nto eight.
    “Press conference? What press conference?” I as ked coyly.
    “Marcus King’s first press conference as a New York Gladiator. Every local news channel carried it live. This is big new s, Laila.”
    “Oh yeah. He told me he was doing something like th at today.”
    “Now, Laila, let’s cut to the chase. You know Glam Network wants to do this show with you. And I promise you Whatever Laila Wants is going to be huge! We’ll put our entire marketing muscle behind it to ensure it’s a ratings smash, and with Marcus moving to New York, the interest in the two of you is only going to get more intense.”
    “I agree, Miki. But opening up my life to your cameras is a big step. I don’t generally like to . . . well . . . kiss and tell.”
    “I know, but we’d really be breaking new ground in the reality TV space with this concept.”
    “I don’t know, Miki. You’re really asking a lot . . .” I let my voice trail off and heard her breathing quicken, but I could tell she needed a little push to raise her offer.
    “Check your e-mail, Miki. I sent you a little present.”
    “Oh my God” she exclaimed into the phone after she opened the e-mail containing my most recent text exchange with Marcus along with my photo. “Is this from Marcus King? Are you really about to go meet him? Can I send a camera crew to meet you?”
    “Are you crazy? Of course you can’t send a camera crew. First of all, we don’t have a deal, and second of all, you can’t