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I nodded and went back into the room, with Rogan following close behind. I grabbed my phone off the table and said, “Maurice, I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your date.”
After I hung up, Rogan said, “Was that Maurice, the friend who likes all the dicks?”
I groaned. “That’s not fair. You drugged me. That’s why I said all of those things. You’re not allowed to throw it in my face afterward.”
“Just teasing you.” Rogan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “What happened was fucked up. I’ll admit it.” He gestured around the room. “Hopefully all of this makes up for it. Even if youdon’tend up nannying for us, we’ll pay for you to stay here a full week. Anything to make things right.”
I had only expected to stay here a night. The thought of spending an entireweekhere left me feeling lighter than air. Suddenly I didn’t care about being abducted in the middle of the day and interrogated.
Yeah, I know. I’m shallow. Sue me.
Another knock came at the door. “That’s my ice cream bar!” I ran to the door and threw it open.
“Hi Miss Hart!” the delivery boy said as he wheeled a long room service cart into my room. On the cart were metal containers with three different flavors of ice cream, and another dozen bowls filled with various ice cream toppings: sprinkles, nuts, chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, chocolate syrup, caramel, whipped cream.
Rogan frowned as the cart rolled by him. “When you said ice cream bar, I pictured something hand held.”
“Don’t judge. I’ve had a busy day, and I worked up an appetite. This is Timmy, by the way. He’s the one who keeps bringing me all the goodies I order. We’ve become good friends over the past few hours.”
Timmy beamed. “Miss Hart is areallynice lady. And I’m not just saying that because she’s such a good tipper.”
One of Rogan’s chestnut-brown eyebrows rose. “Is she, now?”
“I sure am!” I said while accepting the room service receipt. “Let’s see. The ice cream bar was forty-two dollars. I think that deserves afiftydollar tip.”
“That seems excessive,” Rogan replied, deadpan.
“Excessive? I don’t think it’s enough. The cart isreallyheavy. Let’s do a sixty dollar tip.” I wrote the number on the receipt and handed it back. “You’ve earned it, Timmy.”
He grinned from ear to ear, thanked me, and then left the room.
“Glad you’re getting your money’s worth,” Rogan told me. “On second thought, I’m not sure we can afford to keep you here all week.”
I lifted the lid on one of the ice cream flavors. “I’m sure it’s cheaper than being sued for wrongful imprisonment.”
Rogan smiled at that. “You’re not wrong.”
The ice cream was still too cold to scoop out, so I went back to the mini-bar and pulled out a bottle of white wine. “Want a drink?”
“Why not?” Rogan mused. “I’m paying for it.”
I refilled my glass, then poured Rogan one. He lowered himself into the couch in the sitting room. I chose the chair across from him, crossing one leg over the other to make sure the bathrobe stayed closed.
“I’m not just some poor girl who has never had a taste of luxury before,” I said. The alcohol was making me ramble, but I didn’t really care. “Back home in Texas, my family was firmly middle-class. Comfortable. But coming to Los Angeles was tough. They always show you the glamorous lifestyle. Lavish parties and expensive champagne and dresses that cost more than a new car. They never show you how tough it is togetto that point. Being an aspiring actor is rough, let me tell you. Maurice and I share a studio apartment.”
Rogan’s lip twitched with a smile. “Maurice, the one who likes all the dicks? That Maurice?”
I glared at him. “Bring that up again and I’ll pour everything in the mini-bar down the drain, just to run-up the bill.”
Rogan held his palms out in surrender. “Sharing a studio apartment is tough.”
“It is! The whole place is four hundred square feet. We have one window, but it doesn’t open. Our building used to have mice. Now we have rats. The rats killed all the mice. Oh, and we have about six seconds of hot water in the shower. I know you’re a guy, so you probably don’t have any idea how long it takes for a woman to wash her hair.”
Rogan sipped his wine. “Can’t say that I do.”
“We’ve shared this studio forthree years. Working part-time, saving up as much money as we can to support our acting careers. We never get to treat ourselves.” I swept my arm across the hotel room. “It feels good to finally let loose and not worry about the money. That’s why we snuck into your suite at the Lakers game.”
Rogan rested an arm across the back of the couch, which made his bicep bulge within his T-shirt. “I thought you snuck into the suite because, and I quote,fuck rich people,end-quote.”
