Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2) (6 page)

“Would you prefer I hated it? On my back, silently crying, pleading at the ceiling for it to be over?” She turned her face away as her cheeks got hot. It was almost as if he’d heard her conversation with Vero, but he’d been across the room.

The cigarette burned down in his hand, and he didn’t respond.

She knew the answer to her own question. Things could’ve gone much worse with Beau, and she was grateful they hadn’t. She’d do a lot for Johnny, but she wasn’t going to wish it’d been terrible for her just so he would feel better. “I’d do it again,” she said. “If you thought it was for the best.”

“For the best,” Johnny murmured. “The best being money.”

“The best being our future.”

“But here’s the clincher, folks,” he said. “The kind of future they want costs money.”

“If you feel that strongly, just tell me not to do it.”

“Thought we already decided you wouldn’t.” He tossed the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. “You want to do it, then do it. Don’t try to make it look like I’m asking you for it. You did it once, so it’s not even like it’s that big of a deal.”

Lola set her jaw. “How can you say that?”

He walked away. “You got his number,” he said, pulling open the back door. “You don’t need me to make the arrangements.”

Lola stared after him. She had the strange but satisfying sense that she’d gotten away with something. Like she’d get as a young girl when her mom would occasionally let her pick one thing from the candy aisle. But it was more than that. Johnny wouldn’t make a firm decision, so she had to, and if he came to regret the outcome, he’d only have himself to blame for not speaking up. She was free to make the mistake that—she was slowly figuring out—she wanted to make.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about the way Beau had owned her, as if it were a craving she couldn’t kick. Beau’s unwavering attention—the only kind he knew—could easily become addicting.

She took out another cigarette to calm herself—her hand shook as she lit it. Money? What money? It was becoming less important the greater her need grew. Not just any kind of need, but the kind Beau incited in her, that built and built to an unbearable level. The kind only he could fulfill. She was feeling that way more and more lately, whenever she thought of him like she did now.

And now she’d get her fix again. The decision was made for her. Johnny had cemented it when he’d walked away. She took her cell from her pocket and pulled up Beau’s phone number.

“Lola, ma chatte,” Beau answered. His voice was low and raw.

“You were sleeping,” she said.

“It’s one in the morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “Unless this is a dream. Then you should be very sorry.”

She smiled. Except for a yellow streetlamp nearby, it was dark. They were alone.

“How are you?” he asked.

She blew out a breath and flicked ash from her cigarette. “I’m okay.”

“Most women who call me in the middle of the night are not okay.”

“I don’t want to be most women,” Lola said quietly.

“You aren’t. Not to me.”

She closed her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

“So this call isn’t personal, then. That would make it business.”

Lola waited. Her mind was even more made up hearing his voice, but she couldn’t sound too eager. Just like Johnny, Beau had to know with certainty that money anchored their arrangement. That there were boundaries. “What are the terms of your new offer?”

After rustling on the other end and a short silence, he said, “The same. Including the test if you’ve slept with Johnny again.”

“Why would that matter?”

“If you’ve had a partner after the test, then it matters.”

There was that sterile word again—
partner
. “Beau, he’s my boyfriend.”

“You weren’t with him the night you were with me. Who knows how he kept himself occupied?”

She stared daggers at the back door. She knew Johnny better than she knew anyone, and he wasn’t a cheater. “Johnny would never. You don’t know him.”

“I don’t have to. I know people. Resentment is ugly. It makes people do ugly things.”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t.”

“So have you slept with him?”

She took a drag of her cigarette. She imagined Beau sitting forward in his bed, the sheet around his lap. The corner of his hungry mouth twitching as he waited. His mouth was so goddamn hungry when it was on her. “No. Have you?”

“He’s not my type.”

“Be serious. You know what I mean.”

“I haven’t seen anyone. The impression you left is…unshakeable.”

“How romantic,” she said dryly to hide the fact that she wanted it to be true.

“You asked me to be serious. I am. Housekeeping has replaced the sheets but I smell your perfume here. It’s impossible, I know.” His voice dropped even lower. “The window is still smudged from your tits.”

Her pulse stuttered. From the start, he’d been catching her off guard, startling her with his brashness. She bit her lip, knowing any noise she made would come out sounding like a moan. “I—I don’t wear perfume.”

He chuckled. “So, Lola. Do we have a deal?”

“Five hundred the night before. Five hundred the next morning.”

“Sunset to sunrise.”

“When?” she asked.

“If I hadn’t already lost the hours, I’d say right now. God knows I want you here. Can it be tomorrow?”

“It’s a weekday.”

“But you work nights,” he said. “You can sleep the next day.”

“I meant for you.”

“Don’t worry about me. My impatience reaches disconcerting levels where you’re involved.”

“I’m flattered. I think.” She hesitated, not ready to get off the phone. Talking to him was smoothing out the rollercoaster week she’d had, a temporary cure for her distress. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated.

She hung up before she said something she shouldn’t—like “I can’t wait” or “I look forward to having you inside me again.” The stab of guilt in her gut was drowned by the quick beats of her heart. Vero and Johnny were both right. Lola liked this. She enjoyed it. Not only that—she fucking
wanted
it.

Chapter Five

Lola couldn’t come up with the words to tell him. She and Johnny had been driving home from the bar for ten minutes, but she’d been pretending to sleep with her head back against the passenger seat headrest. In fact, she’d been awake, searching for those impossible words to say she’d promised herself to another man tomorrow night. It was hard enough without wondering if Johnny would be relieved or angry. Was
she
relieved? Was she angry? Johnny wasn’t acting like the man she knew he was. It made her wonder if he’d ever been, or if it was possible she’d built him up to something else over the years.

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?”

“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.