He walked away. “You got his number,” he said, pulling open the backdoor. “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 backdoor. 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.
5
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.