Dirty Money

by Jessica Clare

  “I do, don’t I?” I’m pretty pleased with how the suit fits, even if it’s just a rental. Plus, the sight of me in the tux is probably making her panties all wet, which is a bonus. “I missed you, baby girl.”

  The look on her face is all soft and wistful. Her hand strokes my beard. “I missed you, too.”

  “I don’t like it when we fight,” I murmur. ’Specially when I don’t know what the fuck we’re fighting over. “Thought I’d come say I’m sorry in person since the car and the flowers didn’t work.”

  Her cheeks color. “You spend too much money, Boone.”

  “Can’t take it with me. Might as well spend it on my lady.” I take her hand in mine and rub her knuckles before lifting her hand to my mouth and kissing it. “So are you mad at me still?”

  She shakes her head, distracted, her gaze on my lips. “I was never mad at you. Well,” she amends a scarce second later, “I did get pretty frustrated when you started sending presents. I can’t take them, Boone. You’re going to have to send them back.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “You’re so stubborn and pigheaded,” she says, but the words sound like a caress instead of a lecture. “I should be glad it’s not a golf course, I suppose.”

  I snort, amused. “I got one too many of those, already. Besides, what am I gonna do with a bunch of flowers?” I hold out the box I have tucked under my arm. “Or a bunch of dresses?”

  She looks at me with a mixture of surprise and worry as she takes the box. “Dresses?”

  “Yup. There’s a big fancy charity dinner tomorrow night, and I’m taking you. We’re gonna helicopter in just to make a grand entrance.” I push the box toward her. “I didn’t know what size you wore, so I got the same dress in every size.”

  “You bought me a dress?” She gives me a curious look. “I didn’t say I’d go.”

  “Yeah, but you know how pigheaded I am.” I shrug. “It was either a fancy dinner party or I’d try and rent out the Alamo for dinner.”

  Both of her brows go up. “Rent out the Alamo? You can do that?”

  “Turns out you can’t, actually.” I shrug my shoulders and give her a sheepish grin. “But can’t blame a guy for trying.” When she laughs, I feel better. Warmer. Like the entire world is fuckin’ better when she’s happy. “Besides. I figured a fancy dress party would be the best place to show off my gorgeous, elegant woman.”

  The smile fades from her face a little. “Boone—”

  “Mr. Price,” a booming voice calls out from behind us. “I hear Ivy’s been keeping you all to herself!”

  Ivy goes completely still, the expression on her face frozen. Her gaze falls and she stares down at her shoes, and for a moment, I have a weird impression like she’s a little kid in trouble.

  A man comes down the stairs of the office, extending his hands in greeting. He’s got a big, shit-eating grin on his face and is orange with spray tan, his hair slicked back. Suit’s nice, though. Looks expensive. The hand he shoves into mine has big rings on it. “Jack Jackson. I’m one of the partners here, and I just found out our little Ivy’s been keeping quite the secret, hasn’t she?” He pumps my hand, over and over again. “It’s quite an honor to meet you.”

  I’m flattered, but I’m also a little confused. “Nice to meet you, too.” I glance over at Ivy, but she’s still got that half-frozen, polite smile on her face, like a mannequin.

  “This is my boss, Jack,” she tells me in a curiously flat voice.

  “Heard you were in the market for a new house,” Jack says, leaning in. “You have come to the right place, sir.” He waves at another man. “Jack, come over here and meet Mr. Price. He’s with Price Brothers Oil, and he’s looking to buy a house in the area. He’s been working with Ivy this entire time. Who knew!” The grin on his face remains friendly, but the words are so pointed even I get the gist. Ivy’s boss ain’t happy she kept a secret.

  The other man comes forward, and he’s all smiles as well. I feel like I’m being sold a car, and Ivy looks distinctly uncomfortable, even more so when the new man drapes an arm over her shoulders and squeezes her, like he’s holding her in place. “Ivy’s one of our favorite protégées,” the new Jack gushes, winking at Ivy and then at me. “She showing you houses today?”

  “Not today—”

  “Because I know this sweet little beauty over in the Dominion that I think would be just perfect for a businessman like yourself—”

  The other Jack snaps his fingers. “No! There’s a ranch outside of Helotes that I think would be ideal for a man like you. Fancy a bit of land with your property?” His toothy grin is extra white in his orange face. “I can drive you right on over if you’d like.”

  Ivy is silent as the other Jack squeezes her shoulders again, all friendly-like.

  Damn. These men are like a couple of sharks. “Actually, I came to invite Ivy to a charity dinner tomorrow night—”

  “The black-tie dinner with the silent auction? For the Hawkings Literacy Foundation?” the one man says, winking again.

  “I guess.” I don’t know much about it, other than the cream of the crop in all of Texas business will be there. “Thought I’d show Ivy off a bit.”

  “Why, does someone need a burger flipped?” Jack says, and the other Jack bursts into laughter. They crack up, and the handsy one keeps patting Ivy on the shoulder.

  I glance between them, not sure what’s so fucking funny. I’m about to rip his hands off of Ivy if he touches her again. “I don’t understand what you’re saying—”

  “It’s nothing,” Ivy blurts out quickly, stepping forward. There’s a desperate look on her face. “Boone, I’ll just call you later—”

  “What, it’s honest work.” One of the Jacks smirks. “She probably sold a lot more burgers than she does houses. And I sure hope you’re driving, buddy. Have you seen her car? No offense, Ivy.” He moves to squeeze Ivy’s shoulder again—

  —And I grab his hand and pry it off her, because he’s been grabbing her fucking enough.

  That quiets their laughter. The lobby of the building goes deathly silent. I drop the man’s hand and both men take a step backward. Ivy just stands there, an utterly miserable-looking expression on her pretty face.

  “Listen, Price,” the one with the orange skin says. “I’ll get down to brass tacks. Here’s my card.” He flicks it between his fingers and holds it out to me. “I know a man like you wants quality in his home purchase, and I know just what you’re looking for.”

  “Ivy’s selling me a house,” I grit between clenched teeth. Who do these fucks think they are?

  “Yeah.” He glances over at Ivy, then back at me and shakes the card in my direction. “It’s a big investment, and you’re going to want to do it right. But I’m sure Ivy will be able to tell you plenty about the kitchen.” He grins and shakes the card at me.

  I just stare at him. I’m not touching that fucking card. Waving it in front of my face like this is an insult to Ivy. They’re deliberately going around her trying to get my business . . . and she’s just letting them. I don’t understand. Why won’t she stand up for herself?

  Jack flicks it one more time, and then shrugs his shoulders. He makes a phone gesture with his hand, indicating I should call him, and then nods at the other Jack, and both men walk away. I can hear them whispering something about burgers and ice cream and my “type” and I don’t understand what’s going on. They glance back at us and there’s a smirk across the one bastard’s face that I want to punch right off.

  I turn back to Ivy. “Who are those dicks? Why didn’t you stand up to them?”

  “They’re my bosses,” she says in a soft voice, and crosses her arms over her chest. She seems small today, her shoulders hunched. She looks . . . defeated.

  “Are they crazy?”

  She shakes her head. “Just arrogant.”

  Why is she
defending them? Why isn’t she standing up to them like she stands up to me? Something about this doesn’t make sense. It’s like . . . she’s ashamed of something. A warning pings in my brain. “What’s going on, Ivy?”

  “We should talk,” she whispers, hanging her head. She looks over at the receptionist, who’s watching our conversation with fascination. “Not here, though. Outside.”

  I follow Ivy as she hurries through the glass front doors of the elegant office, my mind churning with all the nonsense that was just thrown at me. As we get into the parking lot, Ivy hurries along the side of the building, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, and I walk a few paces behind her, scanning the parking lot. One of those dicks said something about cars. Did you see what she drives?

  There, back by the Dumpster, is Ivy’s sister’s car. I recognize the taped-on plate. And something clicks. I point at it. “That’s not your sister’s car, is it.”

  She looks over and then sighs. “No, it’s mine.”

  Anger bursts in my head. I think of those two jackasses back in there, laughing. Laughing at her. Laughing at me. Thought I’d show Ivy off a bit.

  Why, does someone need a burger flipped?

  I’m sure Ivy will be able to tell you plenty about the kitchen.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I growl. In my head, I can hear those dicks laughing. Like they’re too good for me. The one smirking and whispering to the other about how Ivy’s my type.

  Why do those dicks get to know the truth and I don’t?

  Ivy smooths her hair and stares at the sidewalk. “You want to know the truth about me, Boone?” Her voice is sad, defeated. “You wanted to go out with me because you think I’m classy, except I’m not.” She gestures at her suit. “It’s all a show for business. I maxed my credit cards to get a few expensive suits and shoes in the hopes I would attract a higher caliber of client. The truth is, I’m poor white trash. I live in a trailer, just like you. I drive a beat-up car. I’m not elegant. You can’t show me off to anyone because they’ll just laugh in your face.”

  Now I’m the one that’s silent, because I’m furious. Ivy lied to me. She lied to me and let those assholes laugh at who she is. Who I am. My pride is stinging, and worse than that, I feel betrayed. All this time, she’s been leading me around pretending to be someone she’s not.

  I’m afraid I like you just for your money, Boone.

  I’m okay with that.

  Except, I don’t think I am. I think all my raw spots have been pricked and now all I can think as she talks in that calm, sad voice of hers is that she’s nothing but a liar. I don’t know who she is, and she’s never given me the chance to know her. She’s just made up stories and let me believe that she was someone else. I told her I wanted someone classy, and she did her best to make me think she was.

  No wonder she doesn’t want me to meet her family. No wonder she’s always hiding.

  “Before I got my real estate license, I worked fast food,” Ivy is saying now. “I flipped burgers and served ice cream. That’s why Jack doesn’t think I can sell you a house. But I’m determined to prove him wrong.” She lifts her chin.

  House?

  Who gives a damn about a house right now?

  She’s fucking stomped all over my goddamn heart and let those assholes laugh at me, and she wants to talk about money?

  I stare at her for a long moment, and then turn on my heel and walk away.

  I can’t think. Not with her staring up at me with those big sad eyes. Not with the laughter of those two jackasses still ringing in my ears.

  I’m afraid I like you just for your money, Boone.

  Ivy

  I shouldn’t be surprised when Boone turns on his heel and just walks away from me. I shouldn’t . . . but it still hurts.

  “Boone,” I call after him, my voice hoarse. There’s a knot in my throat that feels like it’s the size of Rhode Island. “Wait, please.”

  “I can’t talk to you right now, Ivy,” he says without turning around. He shakes his head, pulling out his keys and making a beeline for his truck. “I need time to think.”

  “I’m sorry I lied,” I call after him. I want to run to his side, but won’t that seem desperate? I don’t think he wants me clawing at his arm, begging for forgiveness. “I wanted to tell you—”

  He stops, and turns to look at me. There’s a hard expression on his face. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t think you’re sorry you lied. I think you’re sorry you got caught.”

  I bite my lip because . . . he’s not wrong. I am ashamed of who I am. I hate that I live in a trailer and my dad’s a convict. I hate all of that, and I didn’t want him to find out, ever. I don’t want him to think I’m so desperate for money that I slept with him to try and get a chunk of it. It’s not like that. It’s never been like that.

  Boone points at me. “See? You got all quiet again. You don’t like it when someone confronts you, Ivy. You don’t like it when someone gets too close.”

  “I just didn’t know what to say, Boone—”

  He shakes his head, and his mouth is a firm line of anger. “That’s not the problem here. The problem is that I’ve opened up all of who I am to you and all you did was give me half-assed lies and a few smiles when all that would have mattered was the fucking truth.” He stabs a finger at the building. “And you’re gonna sit and let those assholes laugh at the two of us? Like they’re fucking better than us?” His jaw clenches and he shakes his head again. “That may be you, but it ain’t me, Ivy, darlin’. It ain’t me.”

  “I should have said something.”

  “Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  I rub my arms, chilled even though it’s a hundred degrees outside, the sun baking the sidewalk under my shoes. “Because I was afraid of losing you now that I’m in love with you.”

  “See, that’s the problem with a relationship built on lies. I don’t know when I can believe you.”

  And he turns and storms away again.

  I watch him get into his truck, my nails digging into my palms to stop from crying. Please stop, I mentally beg. Stop and tell me it’s going to be okay. That we’re going to be okay. Give me one of those ravenous, playful looks that tells me you still want me.

  But he just shakes his head and starts his truck. I watch him leave the parking lot, my hands throbbing and bloodless from clenching them so tight. He drives away and I just . . . stare.

  He’s gone. I don’t know if he’s ever coming back. He’s furious at me, and he has every right to be. I did lie to him. I did let the Jacks smirk and laugh at him, even though I know that’s the thing that trips his trigger more than anything. I should have said something.

  I said I was sorry, but we both knew I was lying. He’s right; I’m not sorry I lied, I’m just sorry he found out my secrets.

  God, I am the worst ever.

  I dash at the tears rolling down my cheeks, because it’s stupid to cry. I knew this would happen. I knew this would blow up in my face. And yet . . . I keep picturing Boone in the tux, the sly, pleased-with-himself smile on his face as he greeted me. Like he was being naughty and didn’t care. And the sight of that smile on his face filled me with so much joy and love. This time, I wasn’t going to push him away. This next time, things were going to be different.

  Except now there’s no next time. Because now he knows I’m a fraud. He wanted someone with class, and instead he got a burger flipper with a redneck name and a dad in prison.

  After a few minutes of staring longingly into the parking lot, I realize he’s not coming back. I . . . can’t let him walk away.

  I’ll call him. This time, I’ll go after him. I’ll make him see where I was coming from, and maybe we can start over again. If he truly loves me, maybe he won’t give up on me.

  I race back inside the office, and stop when I see the box he’d brought
in. There’s a pink lid with a jaunty bow. I must have set the box down in one of the lobby chairs at some point, because I vaguely remember him handing it to me. I’m drawn to that box, and I lift the lid off. Inside, there are black sparkles, and I pull a dress out and hold it up. It’s all spaghetti straps and gauzy skirt, but it’s designer and lovely. Every dress in the box is the same, just a different size. He wanted to see me dressed up and sexy. He wanted to take me out to a nice dinner and show me off, because he’s proud of me.

  Was proud of me.

  My heart hurts.

  “Ivy.”

  I look up at Janet, the receptionist.

  She points at the stairs. “The Jacks are waiting for you in their office. They said it’s important and they need to see you right away.”

  Oh great. I can just imagine. I know how this is going to go. “They’re going to fire me, aren’t they?”

  Janet practically wiggles in her seat with excitement, the gossip-hound. “They didn’t say, but I heard them talking about how unprofessional it is for you to date a client.”

  Oh, please. The only thing they’re mad about is that I had a big client on the hook instead of them, and I didn’t tell anyone so they could steal it. I smile thinly. I’ve worked here long enough to know how the Jacks operate. It has nothing to do with who I’m dating and everything to do with the size of Boone’s wallet. If Boone wanted to buy a house from one of them instead of me? They’d fling me in his bed lickety-split and probably even hand me the condoms.

  And then I shudder at that mental image.

  I glance back at the box, and then pick it up and head for my desk.

  “Ivy,” Janet calls out, a whine in her voice. “They told me you need to go upstairs right away—”

  “They can fire me,” I call back at her. After all, that’s what they’re going to do anyhow. I take the box toward my desk and study my things. This day is just going from bad to worse.

  Farah immediately puts down her phone and leans over her desk. “What’s going on, Ivy?”