She sat there surrounded by photos slated to be included in a future Capricious edition, with several articles to read and approve. In this age of technology, Dominique still preferred to read the work in paper form, feel its weight in her hands, and use a red marker to highlight and comment. Glancing at the clock, she eased reading glasses away from her face and rubbed her eyes. Then she reached her hands to the heavens and gave her five-foot-nine, 175-pound frame a good stretch. She’d been up since six and now it was almost eleven. The long day had held few dull moments. She chuckled, recalling how her son had gone on and on about his new coach at school. What was his name? Jack? Jason? Whatever they called him, Dominique was glad that her son liked this new guy. Justin was an intuitive judge of character and didn’t take to just anybody. Good male role models were just what her son needed. Dominique often felt guilty at the lack of such men in her son’s life. She kept planning to get him involved in some type of mentor program, or a Boys & Girls Club, somewhere where he could be around strong men who looked like him. She wished his uncle could be more of an example, but her brother had not handled life well and had seen his nephew less than a dozen times in the last five years. Thankfully, her sister’s husband, Aaron, was a good man and an example to Justin, who spent time in their Inglewood household every weekend.

And then there was her other son, Reggie.What am I going to do with that drama queen? After returning home from the drive-through she’d called him, refused to let him wallow in his own misery, and threatened him to within an inch of his life if he wasn’t gracing the desk in front of her office by nine AM. Dominique couldn’t remember when her and Reggie’s five-year relationship had gone from boss-employee to friends (or mother-son depending on the day or circumstance). But at various times he’d been the girlfriend she needed to talk to or the brother she never really had. Dominique remembered how heartbroken she’d been to find out that her last lover had dipped his hands where they didn’t belong. Reggie had been a comforting presence throughout that fiasco and Iyanla Vanzant, yoga, white wine, and buffalo wings had helped her heal. I was probably too hard on him, she belatedly thought regarding Reggie’s predicament. He was crazy about that man. But the publishing industry was relentless, giving no quarter to breakdowns and broken hearts. Reggie Williams would just have to put on his big-girl panties. They had a deadline.