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She shrugged. “Okay. If the boss says so.”
“If you think I believe I’m really your boss, you’re fooling yourself,” he joked. “We both know it’s just a title.”
She laughed but stopped abruptly at the way Beau stared at her—as though he’d forgotten Johnny was even there.
“What should we play for?” she asked. She stuck a hand in her apron, pulled out a few dollars she’d made in tips and showed them to him. “It’s all I’ve got on me.”
“I’m thinking slightly more than that,” he said.
“Like what?” she asked.
“How about a hundred bucks?”
“That’s a little steep. I’m confident, but I’m not stupid.”
“The higher the stakes, the better the game,” Beau said. “Not worth playing if you don’t have something to lose.”
“It’s fine, Lo,” Johnny interjected. “I got you covered.”
A hundred dollars wasn’t chump change for Lola and Johnny, but she had a feeling it was for the man standing in front of her, waiting to play. His tie was silk, and his suit custom—nothing from the rack. Lola knew enough to tell the difference.
She came out from behind the bar, and Johnny passed her the darts. When she went to take them, though, he wouldn’t let go. Their eyes met. He told her with a look that, just like Lola, he smelled the money on this man.
The dartboard was on the opposite side of the bar, against one of the dark, wood-paneled walls. She and Beau walked by the regulars, under the dated, medieval-style chandelier and by some yellowed Polaroids of rowdy patrons.
At the toe line, a strip of curling duct tape, Beau held one hand out. “Ladies first,” he invited.
He didn’t know much about her if he thought she was a lady—and didn’t know much about darts if he thought that was how you decided who threw first—but Lola kept her mouth shut and took her place. Her dart just missed the triple twenty. She aimed the second one a little higher and landed it.
“Impressive,” Beau said. “Where’d you learn to play?”
“Johnny taught me when we first started dating. Before long I was better than him.” She threw the last one. “Some people just pick it up easier.”
“Or maybe you’re like me. I never take my eye off the target.” His dart bounced off the wire. “Sometimes I miss, but I never miss twice.” He threw again, this time hitting the center.
He got quiet for his last throw. She watched him, the constriction of his neck when he swallowed, the tautness of his jaw while he concentrated. If he was this self-possessed and powerful looking during a light-hearted game, she guessed he’d be a force everywhere else.
“Where’d you say you work?” she asked him.
“I didn’t.”
“What do you do?”
He threw his dart, but neither of them watched where it landed. “I’m a founding partner of a venture capital firm downtown.”
“Those guys you’re with don’t look like colleagues.”
“They own a tech startup I’m thinking of investing in. I like to take my time getting to know the people behind the project before I make any decisions.”
“Isn’t that kind of thing normally done in a conference room or over a golf game?”
He smiled. “Sometimes it’s a golf game. Sometimes it’s a trip to Vegas. For these guys, a local watering hole’s where they’re most comfortable.”
“What about you, though?” she asked. “Are you comfortable here?”
“It’s not my first choice.” He looked at her closely. “But I don’t mind a change in scenery now and then. And this is definitely a departure from my usual thing.”
Lola took her spot at the duct tape and threw. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.”
“It is. Take the women who work for me, for instance. They’re all blonde. Even the ones with dark hair look blonde. I don’t know how they do that.”
“Well, this is L.A.,” Lola said. She retrieved her darts from the board and passed them to him.
He didn’t move right away, except to turn a dart over in his hand. “You don’t see any with hair like yours.”
“Mine?” Hers was more of a mane, black and thick as the day was long. Straight too—she got that from her dad. One of her few memories from before he’d left was a woman stopping them on the street to say Lola was her dad’s spitting image. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That color—pitch black. It reminds me of the night. Unpredictable. Smooth, but a little wild. No end, no beginning, like midnight. But then your skin,” he continued, shaking his head as if in wonder, “white like the moon.” He laughed abruptly and took his Scotch from the nearby high-top table where he’d set it. “Well. I’ve been known to get a little romantic when I drink, but this has to be a new level.”
“It’s nice,” she said without thinking. Her palms were sweating. Come to think of it, the bar seemed warmer than usual. “This place isn’t exactly known for romance.”
“What’s it known for, Lola?”
She blinked several times as she thought. “It used to be…electric. Regulars insist you could see this block from space, all lit up in neon lights. Hear it too.”
“Still a lot of neon here,” he said.
“True. It takes more than some neon signs to make a place electric, though. Lately people gawk like we’re some kind of relic. Problem is, we’re still here.”
“Gawkers aren’t good for business?”
“Not if they aren’t spending. I keep telling Mitch we need to become relevant again, because we’re really lacking new business. And when the tourists forget about us, we’re in trouble.” She took another turn. “So how come you don’t know all this if you grew up in Los Angeles?”
“I know some of it. I’ve just never been big on nightlife.”
“Why not?”
“I work a lot. In my twenties I was an employee by day and an entrepreneur by night.”
“Building your firm? What’s it called?”
“Bolt Ventures, but no, I’m referring to my first company,” he said. “I went through a lot during those years, but it eventually paid off.”
“Do you have hobbies?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. Before he could answer, she added, “Outside of work.”
He blew out a laugh. “Some,” he said. “Mostly it’s just work, though.”
“God, you must love what you do,” she said and smiled. “I’m all for working hard, but it’s nothing without some fun.”
“Don’t worry,” he said evenly. “Because I work hard, I get to have fun too.”
Her smile wavered wondering how a guy like Beau had fun. Johnny played guitar, but only for himself. A rock band in high school was the last time he’d performed publicly. Otherwise it was video games or tinkering with cars and bikes at the auto shop where his best friend was a mechanic.
Beau, on the other hand, wouldn’t play an instrument. Not the guitar, anyway. She couldn’t picture him with a gaming controller or a wrench in his hand either. He was tightly wound. If a man like him didn’t loosen up once in a while, he’d snap.
Johnny didn’t stress out often, but even he needed to unwind. A couple years back, Hey Joe’s alcohol order had gotten mixed up right before the only bartender on duty called and quit. “At least he called,” Lola had said, but Johnny wouldn’t hear it. His parents had moved to Florida days before, and Lola’s car—long gone, now—wouldn’t start. Johnny’s eyebrows had been so low on his forehead, she’d worried he’d scare off customers. With five minutes to open, Lola had taken him in the back and given him the blowjob of his life. He’d been fine after that.
Lola squinted at Beau. It’d been years since she’d thought of that. She definitely had sex on her mind tonight. Had Beau ever been blown
in a seedy bar like this? Would it relax him? Turn him on? Would he find that…fun?
“I’m boring you,” Beau said. “I never go on about myself this much. Either the Macallan’s kicking in or you’re too easy to talk to.”
Lola was about to tell him to keep talking—she liked having a new voice in the bar. It didn’t hurt that that voice was bottomless, as if it came from some untouched depths inside him. And steady, in a comforting way. She could listen to him all night. She shook the feeling off.
“So what’ll you do if this place gets bought out?” he asked.
“I try not to think about it,” Lola said. “It’d be hard on us. Johnny loves this place as if it were his own.”
“And what about you?”
Over Beau’s head were some photographs of the owner’s dad with bands and customers who were long gone. “There’s a lot of history here,” she said, her eyes wandering over the pictures. “I’m closer to the people here than I am my own family.”
“But you could see yourself doing something different,” he guessed.
“Different?” It hadn’t occurred to her. Johnny had been bartending for twelve years, and she’d been by his side for eight of them. They were a team. “The late-night scene can get old,” she admitted. “I suppose if it were between moving to a different bar or trying something else, I’d maybe think about something else.” Lola hadn’t even known she’d be open to a change until she’d said it aloud. She’d assumed she and Johnny would always work together, but Johnny’d never do anything outside the nightlife industry.
“Something like…?” Beau asked.
She considered it a moment. “A restaurant would make sense, or a coffee shop. At least the hours would be better.”
“So then serving food and drinks is your passion,” Beau said.
She simultaneously laughed and scoffed. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just being realistic about my options. They’re limited without a college degree.”
“You didn’t go to school?”
“Dropped out my first semester.” Lola mock-gasped with her fingers over her mouth. “Unheard of in your world, isn’t it?”
“No.” He frowned. “I didn’t go to college either.”
