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“Like what?” she asked. “You want me to wear red lipstick while I wait tables at a dive bar?”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might like to see you in such a fancy dress?”
“No, because it’s not us. That was some girl Beau dressed up like a doll.”
“Oh, drop the act. What girl wouldn’t love to be fussed over like that?”
So what if she had? The hair on the back of her neck rose. “You want me to dress up for you, then maybe you could make a fucking fuss over me once in a while.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You think I don’t? I brag about you to anyone who’ll listen. My hot-as-shit girlfriend Lola—have you seen her in leather pants? Do you know how smart she is, how many ideas she has? Have you seen those eyes? I love those fucking blue eyes, man.” Johnny leaned his hands against the tiled counter and took a deep breath. “I’m the luckiest son of a fucking bitch.”
Johnny had his moments, but hearing how highly he thought of her was harrowing. It was almost enough for her to confess her attraction to Beau so it would stop feeling like such a secret between them. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She’d already imagined Beau at the curb several times, waiting for her to come to him. It was a secret, and it was dirty.
If she didn’t go now, her mind would fill in the blanks of their night together. Driving somewhere exciting to start the night. Beau, unable to keep his hands off her in public knowing how good it could be.
“We can’t do this,” Johnny said.
Lola jerked her head to him. But she’d made the decision for them both. He’d had his chance. He didn’t get to say no now. Did he? She couldn’t cancel. She didn’t want to.
“We can’t fight,” he continued. “If we don’t go into this together, then you’re going in alone, and that puts us on opposite sides. With him in middle. We can’t let him get between us.”
Divided they were weaker. Beau knew that too, though. Her connection with Johnny stretched thinner the more it was pulled in opposite directions.
“We’ve done this once already, so how do we do it better this time?” He pushed off the counter and paced in front of her. He pulled on his chin. “It’s like this. B—no, not business. Logical. This plus this equals that. Remove the emotional side and look at it logically. I’m not so good at that, babe, but you are. And I can try.”
“Logical?” she asked. There was nothing logical about her and Beau in the same room, but there could be between her and Johnny. She followed him with her eyes.
“You already know what to expect,” he said. “It was, what, less than twelve hours? For a million bucks.” He paused. “He didn’t hurt you. He didn’t force you.”
She shook her head.
“Say something.”
It couldn’t be done. Beau couldn’t be managed. But Lola already felt him. She already tasted him. He was too close for her to walk away now. So she said, “I think you might be right.”
“Two million gets us everything we wanted for the bar plus a new place and a car for you. Wouldn’t that be enough?” he asked.
“Yes. It’ll leave us a decent amount.”
“Good.” He nodded.
“But this is where we draw the line,” she said. “I don’t care if it’s ten million for a week. This is far enough for me.” No matter how tempted she was to spend more time with Beau, he’d bought enough of her. This had to be the last night for them.
Johnny stopped walking and came to stand in front of her. He cupped her face. “It is. This will be enough.” His hands twitched like he was going to let go, but he didn’t. “You know what else this gets us?”
“What?”
“A wedding fund.”
Lola bit her lip. “Johnny.”
“And a college fund.”
It was the worst moment to bring up marriage and kids. It blended her budding desire for those things, her guilt over wanting Beau and her disappointment in Johnny—and herself—into the same pot. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Are you…you’re serious?”
“Thought I was a piece of shit for wanting to bring a kid into the world when I had nothing to give him. But now? Everything’s different. Send him to fucking Harvard if I want.”
Lola hadn’t even known where Harvard was until a few years ago. She couldn’t keep up with what Johnny was saying. While she was selling her body for their future, there was no space in her mind for what that bought her. The picture wouldn’t form.
Everything teetered dangerously close to the edge. She wasn’t sure if the right decision was to reach out and pull it back—or to let it fall.
6
When Lola was fourteen, she’d stolen makeup from a nearby drugstore. Some crimes were small. Some were big. Some were never found out—like the makeup—and then, were they really crimes at all? Lola paced in front of the window, pausing every few minutes to see the sun a little lower. She didn’t even need what she’d taken. For years, she’d walked an extra four blocks to a different drugstore.
Lola stopped her march to watch the building across the street eat the last sliver of sun. Almost right away, a black limo appeared through the complex gate.
By the way her palms sweat and her heart pounded like they had fifteen years ago, Lola knew instinctively—she shouldn’t get in that limo. There was more at stake than Johnny realized. Maybe enough to change them permanently. What kind of crime was it to do it anyway? If nobody knew but her, did it matter?
Beau had sent over a large box earlier that day with a red bow around it. The gift was lavish—a gold, beaded dress that crisscrossed in the back and had one slit all the way to her upper right thigh. Johnny had played it off—Beau had to pay for Lola’s attention, and Johnny got that for free. But Lola had ignored him, running her fingers over the intricate beadwork. She didn’t need to be pampered or spoiled, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice once in a while.
Lola had waited to change until Johnny’d left for work. She’d done her makeup, attempting to recreate her look from her first evening with Beau so he’d look at her again the way he had in the reflection of the salon’s mirror. This time, though, she left her hair down.
Lola opened the door before Warner had a chance to knock. “Good evening, Miss Winters. Mr. Olivier is ready for you.”
She locked the apartment behind her. “How long have you worked for Beau?” she asked as they curved around the pool and crossed the courtyard.
Warner kept his eyes forward. “Almost ten years.”
“You must’ve been young when you started.”
“Only a few years older than Mr. Olivier.”
“Have you always wanted to—drive? Do you do other things?”
“I also drive Miss Leroux.”
“Who?”
He leaned forward and opened the limo door. Beau had a pile of papers on his lap and a phone to his ear. He nodded at her and covered the mouthpiece. “Wait there a moment.” He returned to his conversation as Lola stood on the sidewalk. Warner had disappeared.
Beau hung up without even a goodbye. He made a note on the paperwork in his lap, then tossed it on the car floor. He smiled up at her—like he was a king who’d just returned from a long day ruling his kingdom and had found her waiting for him. He got out of the car.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
