know Rachel hoped to never see Jasmine again.
If Rachel’s hope was that Jasmine was going to be fired, she was going to be one disappointed First Lady on Monday afternoon when they had their brunch. Instead, when they were alone, Natasia asked Jasmine to join her and Melinda at one ofthe tables in the restaurant where they’d just finished filming. That was when Natasia had gone into her plan.
“It’s time for us to bring your husband into this,” Natasia had said, purposely not mentioning Hosea’s name.
Jasmine had stared at her as if she had two heads that were speaking two different languages. “No,” was all she said.
Natasia had sighed, rubbed her hands together, and then held them up, surrendering and turning the conversation over to Melinda.
“Jasmine,” Melinda said, “this is a show about First Ladies. How are we gonna have a show about pastors’ wives and not have the pastors be part of it?”
“That sounds like your problem, not mine. You knew the deal when I signed up for this. I told you, my husband is very busy building his new church. I told you that he wouldn’t have time”—Jasmine paused and looked straight at Natasia—“for any foolishness.”
“Foolishness?” Natasia and Melinda said together. And then Melinda added, “Well, you were the one who contacted the powers that be so that you could be a part of this . . . foolishness,” Melinda sniped.
Natasia was surprised at Melinda’s snarkiness. Usually, she seemed to bend over backward, forward, and sideways to please Jasmine and her mongrel-wearing sidekick. But Mae Frances hadn’t been with Jasmine on Friday, apparently too sick to show up for the filming of a show that she wasn’t supposed to be a part of. And without Mae Frances, Melinda was aggressive and Jasmine backed down, just a little.
“Look,” Jasmine began again, a bit calmer this time, “I’m just telling you what I told you before. Hosea can’t do this.” She spoke as if Melinda was the only one sitting at the table with her.
“No, that’s not what you said,” Melinda told her. “I believe your actual words were, ‘If we can work out the timing and the scene is right, I think he’ll be glad to do it.’ ”
But no matter what, Jasmine still said no.
It had been a devastating blow to Natasia because this was the plan that was supposed to work. So, what was she to do now? The question had kept her up all of Friday night. But then yesterday, Jasmine had really slashed Natasia’s heart.
After they’d wrapped the day’s filming, Jasmine had walked up to Natasia, grabbed her arm, and jerked her around to face her.
“I know your game,” Jasmine snapped.
Natasia looked down to where Jasmine still held her elbow, and then her gaze rose to meet Jasmine’s. It was only when she stared Jasmine down that Jasmine finally let go. Still, Natasia took a few steps back from Jasmine before she asked, “What game, Jasmine?”
Her eyes had narrowed as she said, “What you’re trying to do. How you’re trying to get to Hosea.”
Natasia sighed as if she thought Jasmine’s words were so middle school. “Paranoia is so unattractive, and such a character flaw. You really should have that checked out because all I’m doing is my job.”
“Yeah, right.” Jasmine folded her arms and peered at Natasia as if she was searching inside her, trying to read her motives. “Why did you decide to do this reality show anyway?”
“It’s none of your business, but if you must know, I’m not doing it because of you. The world doesn’t revolve around you and Hosea.”
“Well, your world seems to because you’re always trying to find your way into our lives.”
“Always?” Natasia laughed. “Please; I’ll say it again, I’m just doing my job.”
“I thought your job was news. I thought you were a serious newswoman.”
“I am.”
“Well, reality TV doesn’t seem to be the place for you,” Jasmine said. “You can’t even handle me and
If Rachel’s hope was that Jasmine was going to be fired, she was going to be one disappointed First Lady on Monday afternoon when they had their brunch. Instead, when they were alone, Natasia asked Jasmine to join her and Melinda at one ofthe tables in the restaurant where they’d just finished filming. That was when Natasia had gone into her plan.
“It’s time for us to bring your husband into this,” Natasia had said, purposely not mentioning Hosea’s name.
Jasmine had stared at her as if she had two heads that were speaking two different languages. “No,” was all she said.
Natasia had sighed, rubbed her hands together, and then held them up, surrendering and turning the conversation over to Melinda.
“Jasmine,” Melinda said, “this is a show about First Ladies. How are we gonna have a show about pastors’ wives and not have the pastors be part of it?”
“That sounds like your problem, not mine. You knew the deal when I signed up for this. I told you, my husband is very busy building his new church. I told you that he wouldn’t have time”—Jasmine paused and looked straight at Natasia—“for any foolishness.”
“Foolishness?” Natasia and Melinda said together. And then Melinda added, “Well, you were the one who contacted the powers that be so that you could be a part of this . . . foolishness,” Melinda sniped.
Natasia was surprised at Melinda’s snarkiness. Usually, she seemed to bend over backward, forward, and sideways to please Jasmine and her mongrel-wearing sidekick. But Mae Frances hadn’t been with Jasmine on Friday, apparently too sick to show up for the filming of a show that she wasn’t supposed to be a part of. And without Mae Frances, Melinda was aggressive and Jasmine backed down, just a little.
“Look,” Jasmine began again, a bit calmer this time, “I’m just telling you what I told you before. Hosea can’t do this.” She spoke as if Melinda was the only one sitting at the table with her.
“No, that’s not what you said,” Melinda told her. “I believe your actual words were, ‘If we can work out the timing and the scene is right, I think he’ll be glad to do it.’ ”
But no matter what, Jasmine still said no.
It had been a devastating blow to Natasia because this was the plan that was supposed to work. So, what was she to do now? The question had kept her up all of Friday night. But then yesterday, Jasmine had really slashed Natasia’s heart.
After they’d wrapped the day’s filming, Jasmine had walked up to Natasia, grabbed her arm, and jerked her around to face her.
“I know your game,” Jasmine snapped.
Natasia looked down to where Jasmine still held her elbow, and then her gaze rose to meet Jasmine’s. It was only when she stared Jasmine down that Jasmine finally let go. Still, Natasia took a few steps back from Jasmine before she asked, “What game, Jasmine?”
Her eyes had narrowed as she said, “What you’re trying to do. How you’re trying to get to Hosea.”
Natasia sighed as if she thought Jasmine’s words were so middle school. “Paranoia is so unattractive, and such a character flaw. You really should have that checked out because all I’m doing is my job.”
“Yeah, right.” Jasmine folded her arms and peered at Natasia as if she was searching inside her, trying to read her motives. “Why did you decide to do this reality show anyway?”
“It’s none of your business, but if you must know, I’m not doing it because of you. The world doesn’t revolve around you and Hosea.”
“Well, your world seems to because you’re always trying to find your way into our lives.”
“Always?” Natasia laughed. “Please; I’ll say it again, I’m just doing my job.”
“I thought your job was news. I thought you were a serious newswoman.”
“I am.”
“Well, reality TV doesn’t seem to be the place for you,” Jasmine said. “You can’t even handle me and
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