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Johnny pulled into their parking spot and shut off the car. “When we own the bar, does that mean we can hire other people to work this late?”
She looked over at him. It was the first attempt at conversation he’d made since their argument.
“We’re getting too old for this shit,” he continued. There was something in his voice—nerves? Guilt? When she didn’t respond, he said, “I’m sorry about earlier. I acted like a jerk.”
Lola glanced at her hands. “I’m not admitting to that. To the thing about being too old.” One thing she appreciated about Johnny was his ability to admit his faults. When they fought, he almost always apologized first. And when he didn’t, it was because he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. “I promised my early-twenties self that I’d never get old,” she said. “But my late-twenties self is having a tough time holding up her end of the bargain.”
Johnny grinned—she knew without even looking. Things were right with him again, but not for long. As they got out of the car and walked to their apartment, the air around Lola seemed thick, as if a storm were brewing.
Johnny fought with the lock on the front door. “Every damn time,” he muttered. He flipped on the lights once they were inside. “We should think about getting a new place.”
“I’d like that,” Lola said.
He tossed his keys on the coffee table. “How much would you love not paying rent?”
“So much,” she said on the way to the kitchen. “Adults pay mortgages, after all.”
“Yep.” He came up behind her, curling his arms around her middle as she poured herself water from the tap. “You know what else adults do?”
“I can think of a thing or two,” she said.
He nuzzled her neck, squeezing her to him. “How about a shower to wash the night off? We both stink like cigarettes.” He slid his hands up to her breasts. “Good thing I like you anyway.”
“A shower at three in the morning?”
“I don’t care. Horny, babe.”
Water flooded the glass in the sink. She was unaffected by his advances. His cruelty and abrupt dismissal earlier still left her chilly. But even if she responded to Johnny’s touch, she couldn’t sleep with him. Not after she’d told Beau she hadn’t.
“Johnny,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“I called him.”
He stopped moving. His breath warmed her cheek. Her anxious heart was trying to burst out of her chest.
“What?” He released her. “You’re going back?”
She turned around and steeled herself against the sink. “Yes.”
“But you—I thought we’d discuss it more.”
“You said what you had to say outside the bar. I didn’t like it, but you said it. So I made the call.”
“Well, fuck.” He ran his hands over his scalp and held them up. “You just made the call, that’s it?”
“He agreed to another million,” she said. “Same terms as before.”
He dropped his arms at his sides. “You should’ve discussed this with me. What if I didn’t want you to do it again? Or what if we could’ve gotten more? We hold the cards here.”
She gripped the counter, narrowing her eyes. The money was becoming too important a factor for him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Another million is more than enough. And you’re the one who told me to call.”
“Come on, Lola. You know how I am. I was mouthing off because I was pissed.”
She’d known exactly that, but she’d made the call anyway. Did that mean she was to blame? “So, what? You don’t want me to do it?”
He blew his cheeks out with his exhale. “I…”
They both looked away from each other, he into the next room and she at the stove. Her heartbeat had slowed. There was no point in pretending he didn’t want that money enough to let her do this again. She wasn’t the only bad guy. Her desire to see Beau became less of a weight on her shoulders.
“I saw a video online. You and him at that benefit or whatever.” Johnny’s eyes darted over the floor.
“When?”
/> “A couple days ago.”
She’d forgotten he might see that. Johnny’d wanted details—how was that for one? Her red lips glued to Beau’s mouth, turning his lips red too? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged in his lumbering way, looking up again. “Brenda found it on one of those entertainment news sites. Mark showed me it on his phone.”
“What’d you say?”
“It caught me totally off guard,” he said. “I had nothing.”
Her stomach heaved. She covered it with one arm. Mark and Brenda weren’t judgmental people, but that didn’t matter. A situation like this was nearly impossible to justify. “You told them the truth? Please tell me you’re joking.”
“What was I supposed to say, it was your long lost twin out for a night on the town with one of the richest men in Los Angeles? Mark and I played pool with the guy the night he came into the bar.”
“Too many people know.”
“You should’ve thought of that. Did you not notice the cameras? I asked you not to kiss him, so you went and did it in front of thousands of people.”
“But, Johnny, he—”
“Yeah, yeah, he made you do it. They called you ‘Beau Olivier’s Sassy Mystery Woman.’ Sassy? In what universe do people use that word? And to describe my girlfriend?”
“You don’t understand. I was playing a part.”
“You were damn convincing too. Especially when you told that reporter to take her hands off your man. Real sassy. You think I liked having to watch that in front of my best friend? Trying not to react?”
Lola rubbed under her eyes with her knuckles. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but you know what I was dealing with.”
“Whatever.” He started to leave, but turned back to her. His stance relaxed, and he put his hands out, as if asking her for help with something. It reminded her of the first time he’d come with her to the Laundromat, and she’d explained the concept of delicates. “So tell me how this goes,” he said. “He picks you up. Takes you—where, his place? A motel? Does he push you onto your knees or do you go willingly?”
She flinched. “Stop it.”
“In your stupid dress and red lipstick—yeah, I saw that on the video too. Why don’t you wear lipstick like that for me?”
