“Not too far from here, Mayor Churchill,” she said. “East Hollywood.”
“Same here,” he said proudly. “In fact, the only thing Beau and I have in common is pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps. And call me Glenn.”
“We have more in common than that,” Beau said.
“Do we?” Glenn asked, smiling as he cut his chicken.
“We both love the city we grew up in and want to do right by it.” Beau nodded at Lola. “We both appreciate beautiful women.”
Glenn waved his fork in their direction. “Okay, you got me there.”
“Did Beau mention how we met?” Lola asked.
“Why don’t you tell me,” Glenn invited.
Beau went tense beside her, his hand tightening around hers.
“First you have to suspend disbelief long enough to picture Beau in a dive bar,” she said.
“A dive bar?” Glenn laughed. “What, in his Prada suit and tie?”
“Exactly,” Lola said. “We met under some neon signs on the Sunset Strip.”
Glenn sat back in his seat. “I haven’t been out on the Strip at night in years. In high school, we’d volunteer to post flyers for shows all over Hollywood so the bars would let us in to watch.”
Lola grinned. Her instinct that Glenn would get the story looked right. “Have you been to Hey Joe?”
“Have I been there? I passed out in my own vomit on Hey Jo
e’s bathroom floor before you kids were even born.” He sighed heartily. “Those were the days,” he muttered before glancing quickly around the table. “Don’t repeat that.”
“That part of the Strip might not be much these days,” Lola said, “but Beau and I met there over Scotch and a show.” She reasoned the night had been such a spectacle, it counted as a kind of show.
“I almost can’t picture it,” Glenn said. “Is it true, Olivier?”
“The place is legendary,” Beau said warily.
Lola leaned over and kissed Beau’s cheek. “For more reasons than one, now,” she said loud enough for Glenn to hear.
“Ever see any good bands there?” someone asked the mayor.
“That was risky,” Beau whispered as the conversation steered away from them.
“What, the kiss?” Lola asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.
He shook his head slowly. “The kiss I didn’t mind. It was a nice touch.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and pulled her hand from her lap to his. That simple movement gave her a rush of adrenaline. Her hand was so close to him and still not nearly as close as it would be soon.
“What are you thinking about?” Beau asked.
It was written all over his face that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Churchill still talked about his days on the Sunset Strip, so she took his cue. “I was thinking about all the shows I’ve seen.”
“I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot.”
She nodded. “In high school, I snuck into bars all the time for live music, usually with a bad boy whose life’s mission was to get me drunk.” Her eyes drifted over Beau. “That’s always been my type. I never dated anyone who wore a suit.”
“You’re mistaken if you think only good boys wear suits.”
Lola nearly lost her heart to her stomach. Bad boys had always been her thing, but since meeting Beau, she was more and more drawn to the suit. She hated to think how she’d fare faced with a combination of the two. “You’re teasing me.”
“Maybe.” He grinned. “Maybe not.”
“I don’t exactly think you were an angel, but I can’t picture you as rebellious.”
“I was in the chess club.”
Lola laughed loudly. She didn’t care that people looked over at them—she was too delighted by the news. “So you were a geek.”
“Chess isn’t geeky. It taught me the importance of strategy, and,” he paused and pulled her hand even farther into his lap, “how to manipulate the pawns in my favor.”
She ignored his insinuation. “Were you any good?”
“No, thankfully.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What? Why thankfully?”
“We learn far more from defeat than victory, Lola. Every loss means an opportunity to become better. Stronger. I didn’t know it then, but I was preparing for the challenges that would come my way. It’s made me a better businessman. And a formidable opponent.”
“Opponent?” she asked.
“At chess, I mean.”
She became even more convinced that for him, there was no clear distinction between business and pleasure. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself. Games are supposed to be fun, not life lessons.”
“There’s room for improvement in everything we do,” he said. “Don’t you think we should always try to be better?”
“No.”
“You didn’t even pause to think about that.”
Lola looked at the tablecloth. “It’s more important to me that I’m comfortable in my own skin. I’d rather look around and be happy with what I have than always wondering what’s around the corner.”
“You can do that and strive to be better.”
That kind of thinking was for people who were in an elevator on the way up. She was fine on the ground floor, where her feet were stable. Someone like Beau had a long distance to fall. “My life may be simple, but I’m content,” she said. “I have what I need.”
“I don’t believe you,” Beau said. “Or maybe I don’t want to believe you. I’m never content. And I’m happiest when I’m conquering myself.”