Beau had been like them. He hadn’t done it for years like she and Johnny, but he’d been in their shoes. He knew struggle. And he’d done what he had to do to get out of it. The question was how far Lola would go to get out of it—and what Beau expected of her if she agreed.
* * *
The next night, Lola was just about to open the bar when the phone rang.
“Lola, right?” asked a familiar voice.
“Who’s this?”
“Hank Walken. We met last week when I came in to see the space.”
“I remember,” she said flatly.
“How are you?”
She hadn’t expected that question. “Busy,” she said. “There something I can help you with?”
“Sure. Got it. Is Mitch around?”
Lola bit her bottom lip and looked toward the backroom. “Not right now,” she lied.
“How can I get in touch with him? It’s important.”
“Try around this time tomorrow. I can get him a message if you want.”
“Just tell him to call me, and that time is money. I want this deal worked out in the next forty-eight hours if we can manage it.”
“Deal?” Lola asked, her throat closing. She and Johnny had run out of time. It was now or never.
“I told you about the lounge, didn’t I?” he asked cheerily. “We’ll be looking for pretty, young cocktail waitresses with experience. That’s a not-so-subtle hint.”
She struggled to register his words. All she could think was that their moment was about to pass them by. “What about management?” she asked, even though she could barely picture herself in a lounge, much less Johnny.
“I like to bring in my own people for the higher-level stuff. Why, you tired of serving?”
“I’m the assistant manager, but I was asking for my boyfriend. The guy you met.”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “We stick with women on the floor or if we hire males, they’re generally models, actors, that kind of thing.“ He guffawed. “If they can make a drink, even better. But maybe we can find your boyfriend something in the kitchen.”
“I’ll give Mitch the message,” Lola said and hung up.
“Who was that?” Vero asked as Lola walked by her.
“No one.” Lola went directly to Mitch’s office and closed the door behind her.
He looked up from his paperwork. The radio played The Rolling Stones. “What’s up?”
“We’re going to make an offer,” she said.
He heaved a big sigh. “Lola, I—”
“I just need a little more time.”
“Hank won’t like that.”
She went and set her palms on his desk. Johnny could work anywhere, but he would never be as happy as he was there. She’d been lost once, and Johnny had shown her the way back. Now she’d repay him by giving him what nobody else could. “Johnny’s busted his ass for you for over twelve fucking years. He doesn’t ask for much. For God’s sake, I’ve had to ask for all his raises. You will wait a few more days because you owe him at least that.”
Mitch laced his fingers on the desk and looked down. “I just want you to be sure about taking this on. The whole thing could tank if you’re not careful.”
He had no idea how true that was. “We’re sure,” Lola said. “We’re ready.”
“All right,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “That’s what you want, I’ll hold Hank off a few more days.”
Lola left Mitch and went into the break room. She leaned against the counter and inhal
ed a shaky breath. She hoped making the decision would be the hardest part of all. Her stomach was a mix of nerves and anticipation when she thought about the phone call she had to make. She decided Johnny would do it—she already had enough responsibility.
She went back out to the bar. Johnny was mid-pour. Customers at the bar were absorbed in their own conversations.
“I’ve made my decision,” Lola said. “I’ll do it.”
Johnny didn’t look up. He set down the bottle of gin. Now he was the one with a choice to make. If Johnny asked her not to do it right then, she wouldn’t. She’d leave Beau in his skyscraper where he belonged. Their worlds had been the same once, and now they’d be the same again. Only, Lola would be the one crossing sides this time. Beau was waiting for her there. One night on his side thrilled her as much as it terrified her, and that was why Johnny needed to tell her not to do it.
Johnny picked up the gin again and continued pouring. “Five hundred isn’t enough,” he said. His voice was steady but toneless. “We’ll ask for more.”
* * *
Beau scrubbed his hand up his jawline and back, looking between Lola and Johnny. Lola couldn’t tell in their bare surroundings if Beau was actually solemn, or if he was just reflecting what he saw across the conference table. Even the sky itself had given up the day to gray webs of clouds.
At least he hadn’t made them wait. Beau’d walked into the room a couple minutes after the receptionist had shown them in. Lola had watched him round the table, wondering if he’d removed his tie to seem less intimidating or if he’d come into work that day without one. It’d caught her off guard. Suits had never been her thing, but the casual nature of his open collar and exposed neck did something to her, as if she were seeing some forbidden part of him.