Say You Need Me

by Carrie Lomax

  Say You Need Me

  Carrie Lomax

  © 2018 Carrie Lomax.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permissions contact: info@carrielomax.com.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Cover by Velvet Madrid.

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  Ebook ASIN: B07BJH77LQ

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-7321531-1-0

  Created with Vellum

  For Christine & Nichole

  Contents

  Say You Need Me

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Enjoyed this book?

  Also by Carrie Lomax

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Say You Need Me

  Carrie Lomax

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  Also in this series:

  Say You’ll Stay

  1

  Janelle Carlisle’s phone beeped, waking her long enough to squint up at the bright, warm Florida sun. Even in March, she could sunbathe by the apartment complex pool. With one hand, she pushed up her cheap sunglasses to read the message.

  Happy Birthday! Crystal’s in town. We’re taking you out.

  It’s not until tomorrow.

  Crystal was more her roommate, Rachel’s, friend. Janelle had taken over Crystal’s room when she’d gone to law school.

  Besides her ambivalence to both her birthday and toward Crystal, Janelle had only the sixteen dollars she’d earned in tips from her second job at the coffee shop to last her until Friday, when her paycheck hit. Drinks were out of budget, birthday be damned. She relaxed onto the chair. Her phone made another noise. Janelle sighed and dragged herself up.

  Nobody goes out on Sundays. Are you really going to mark turning twenty-five by staying home to watch The Bachelorette for the millionth time?

  A second, impatient beep. Seriously, what’s the appeal?

  The fantasy of having hot, successful men compete for a woman’s attention. Duh. Was it so strange to enjoy the idea of sitting in the power seat for a while? Of having a little romance?

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen every episode of every season, at least twice.

  Only if you’re buying. My car’s done for, she texted back.

  Thursday, the Volkswagen rust bucket almost as old as she was had developed a sickening clanking sound, then ground to a halt two blocks from home. Friday she’d cadged a ride to work, and this morning Janelle had swallowed hard at the bad news: she needed a new set of wheels, STAT.

  Come to think of it, Janelle could really use a birthday drink or two. Even if it was charity.

  If you MENTION money this evening I will personally pour a drink over your head. Come out with us. Make out with some random guy just because you’re single and you can, FFS. Pick you up in an hour?

  Well, okay then. Time to get off the chair and into makeup and actual clothes. Janelle lay there for another ten minutes trying to summon the energy.

  Tomorrow was her twenty-fifth birthday. Only another fifty more to get through, before she could legit give up trying to get somewhere in life and die in peace.

  * * *

  Although they were friends, Crystal was not one of Janelle’s favorite people. Her confidence bugged Janelle for reasons she didn’t like to articulate.

  “How’s law school?” Rachel asked as the waitress delivered their margaritas.

  “Great. I love the professors, and the students are really dedicated. I’m planning to go into public service.”

  “Careful you don’t wind up like me,” Janelle’s tone came out waspish where she meant to be flippant. She gripped the slippery stem of the margarita glass hard enough to snap it. Catching herself, she eased off. Quit with the jealousy.

  Crystal didn’t bring out the best in Janelle. Law school was the inevitable place for someone like Crystal, who made a habit of asking annoyingly incisive questions. She was the kind of person who skated right past barriers, then gave them a good kick just to watch them topple over.

  “In what way?” Crystal turned wide brown eyes toward her. She’d dyed her hair blonde, though a half-inch of dark roots showed through. Curvy, smart, and adventurous, Crystal had been notorious for sleeping around in college. She’d had a lot of friends but not many close ones. Rachel was one of the few.

  “Mired in debt.” Janelle sucked the dregs of her margarita through her straw. Her life had peaked in college. She’d had a great boyfriend named Ben, and she’d been confident her psychology degree would get her a decent-paying job after school—though she was vague on what it might be.

  Then her parents had run out of tuition money and offered her the option of moving home for three years to finish school. In love with Ben, she’d opted to move off-campus and pick up another job, instead. Her grades had suffered, and she’d ended up taking out too many loans.

  In three years since graduating she’d chipped away almost a third of her debt, but the payments still took almost half her monthly income. Rent was another third, leaving her with a few hundred dollars to cover utilities, gas, food, and incidentals. Forget getting ahead. Janelle was barely hanging on.

  “Want another?” Rachel asked, indicating her empty glass.

  “Sure. It’s not as if I’m not driving,” Janelle deadpanned.

  “Why aren’t you driving?” Crystal asked, her thin, red-painted lips wrapped around a straw.

  “Car broke down. The White Knight finally gave up the ghost.” Janelle slurped the last of her margarita before the waitress could whisk it away.

  “The gleaming steed lays down its life.” Rachel clutched her heart, giggled, and reached across the table to dip a chip in salsa.

  “The only thing gleaming on that car was the bumper I had replaced,” Janelle said ruefully.

  “You should get a sugar daddy. I have one.” Crystal continued sucking her neon green drink, brown eyes bouncing between Janelle and Rachel, assessing their response.

  The astonished laughter burst out of Janelle in a hot rush. “Funny, Crystal.”

  “You have a what?” Aghast, Rachel nearly knocked over her new drink.

  “A sugar daddy. An older man who pays some of my law school bills and housing expenses in exchange for sex.” A knowing, worldly smile played over Crystal’s lips. “Georgetown’s expensive.”

  The sentence hung there, a bomb gone off in the middle of their margaritas.

  “You’re a prostitute,” Janelle said flatly.

  “No. I have an arrangement. Sort of like a mistress in the ninet
eenth century.”

  Rachel’s mouth hung open. Janelle snorted dismissively. “Lucky you. Those arrangements always worked out so well. It’s all fun and games until things go south and you’re stuck with an illegitimate kid and no way to get a job.”

  Undeterred, Crystal kept smiling. “I’ll have a job, and a good one. The modern miracle of birth control almost guarantees I won’t get pregnant. It’s not the Victorian era. It’s not prostitution. It’s a mutually beneficial system that allows bright young women like myself to exploit rich older men for their money.”

  “It’s sex for money,” Janelle replied flatly. “Call a spade a spade.”

  “I’m not a prostitute,” Crystal insisted. “It’s more akin to having a rich boyfriend who pays for everything with a specific agreement up front. Like a prenup. The arrangement only lasts for as long as both parties want it to. It’s one-hundred-percent about consent.”

  “It’s exploitative.” Janelle’s fingers were relaxed around the stem of her glass. This was simple, easy. Sex for money was bad. How clear-cut could it get?

  “Don’t be so judgmental, Janie. It’s a fair exchange between equals. Didn’t your sister have a rich boyfriend in New York?”

  More to the point: How had Crystal known?

  Rachel’s gaze dropped guiltily to her lap. Janelle shot her a glare. They’d be discussing her loose lips later.

  “Yeah, Alyssa had a boyfriend. They broke up right before she and Marc got together.” As in, literally the evening before. That hadn’t gone over so well. Janelle liked to think she’d had a hand in helping them work it out in the end, even though she’d been cheering for Alyssa’s ex at the time.

  “How is what I’m doing any different from your sister dating a rich guy?” Crystal demanded, calmly placing her crossed forearms on the table.

  “I need another margarita if we’re going to continue this conversation,” Rachel interjected, summoning the waiter.

  “It’s…she…Alyssa loved Zach, for a while. What about you, Crystal? Are you in love with your sugar daddy?”

  “No. But I am faithful to him.” Crystal smiled. “It’s monogamous, at least on my part.”

  “On his part?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not part of the deal. He’s married.”

  “Okay, this is too gross, Crystal. I can’t believe you’d do that.” Rachel looked sick, but she quickly drained the third huge margarita anyway. “It’s wrong.”

  “Why not? I didn’t make his wife any promises. If he wants to cheat, that’s his business.” She leaned against the vinyl booth.

  “Rachel, eat some more chips. Let’s get another round of appetizers.” Janelle tried to flag a passing waiter, and failed.

  “I’m going to head out in a few minutes.” Crystal pulled out her phone, the latest Apple model.

  “How’s the sex?” Janelle blurted.

  “Not bad, honestly,” Crystal barely glanced up. “You should consider it, Janelle. You could find a really good protector with that rack of yours.”

  Eww. Eww.

  No.

  “Send me the info. I’m curious.” Only curious. She’d never do something so morally compromised. Rachel’s eyelids were hovering half-open, and a stab of worry hit Janelle. “Maybe we should skip the appetizers and head home.”

  “Sure,” Rachel slurred. “Or shots.”

  Crystal reached over and moved a strand of hair over Rachel’s shoulder. “No shots for you, Rach. You never could drink worth a damn. I’ve got the bill. I’ll charge it to Barry’s credit card.”

  “Thanks, Crys.” Janelle suddenly remembered why she liked Crystal enough to be casual friends. She could be very generous. Although, apparently, someone else was paying. A stranger she’d never met. One who cheated on his wife. It was hard to summon much outrage about a couple of birthday margaritas in the grand scheme of things, but it left a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with tequila.

  Janelle focused on helping Rachel out of the booth. Her part in the Crystal/Barry/Barry’s wife mess was incidental. They all abandoned the table, Crystal and Janelle on either side of Rachel, supporting their drunk friend.

  “I don’t think she’s going to make it home,” Janelle said worriedly.

  “Are you okay to drive?” Crystal asked.

  “Not really, no.” Never a big drinker, two margaritas were the upper limit of Janelle’s tolerance, and she’d had three. “We’ll get a car service and come pick her car up in the morning.”

  “Okay. Be safe. I’ll go let the restaurant know she’s leaving it overnight.” Crystal unwound herself from Rachel, who lurched against a lamp post.

  Then she gave Janelle a warm, if awkward, hug. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks, Crys.”

  “Oh, hey, I meant to tell you. I heard Ben’s getting married.”

  It was as though Crystal had raked claws across her face. “My Ben?”

  “He hasn’t been yours in a few years, right?”

  Now Janelle knew how birds and mice felt when cats toyed with them. Her body felt disengaged, almost paralyzed. She swallowed. Janelle ought to be happy to know someone she’d cared about—still cared about—was in love. If she were truly a good person, she wouldn’t feel the hot sting of jealousy. But she did. “No. He hasn’t. Who’s the lucky girl?”

  Crystal shrugged, nonchalant about the bomb she’d dropped. “Some Texas blonde. You know the type. Big hair. Blue eyes.”

  “Thanks for drinks,” Janelle replied tightly, suddenly hating every blonde-haired woman in the Lone Star State with a raw, unreasonable passion. The driver pulled up, sparing her from further humiliation. Janelle tugged the seat belt over her friend’s petite body and clicked it into place.

  “Oh, Janie, I meant to tell you earlier. I got distracted by Crystal’s sugar buddy news.” Rachel slumped against her shoulder, a fine sweat breaking out over her pale forehead. Her skin practically glowed, she avoided the sun carefully.

  “Sugar daddy,” Janelle corrected automatically. “Can you believe she’d do something like that?”

  “Crystal? Yeah, I can. Listen. I forgot to tell you. I’m moving out.”

  The car swerved. Janelle’s stomach heaved as though she might vomit half-digested margarita all over the upholstery. “When?”

  “At the end of the month. Caleb wants me to move in with him. He says he wants to get engaged, and so do I. It doesn’t make sense for me to renew the lease. Do you think you can find someone to take it over?”

  For the past two years, Rachel had been the sole lease holder on their apartment. Janelle paid her cash for her share of the rent and utilities. Her friends’ lives were progressing normally. Jobs. Careers. Starting families. She was flailing in quicksand, and now they were all leaving her behind.

  “I’ll try.” Janelle pushed her friend upright. On Friday, she’d received a check from her sister, Alyssa, with a note: Hang in there. More to come. Enjoy your birthday.

  If she’d saved it, she might’ve had enough for a deposit on a new apartment. Or a down payment on a car. Instead, Janelle’s heart had swelled up like a desiccated sponge dropped into a bucket of gratitude, and in a fit of determination she’d sent the entire amount directly to her student loan servicer this morning. If Rachel had told her sooner, she’d have planned differently.

  Given a do-over, Janelle would’ve done a whole lot of things differently. Trying to be responsible had gotten her nothing but too much debt, a dead-end job, a broken-down car, and no way to rent an apartment of her own. She was slipping backward. If she didn’t stop the fall, her entire future would be buried under an avalanche of debt and regrets.

  Something in her life had to change. It had to change now. Today. Tonight. Maybe Crystal’s unexpected visit was a sign.

  After she hauled her roommate upstairs, dumped Rachel into her bed, and set a glass of water and two painkillers on the nightstand beside it, Janelle checked her email.

  Crystal had sent he
r a link. Janelle clicked it. She was twenty-five years old—almost—and broke as fuck, with no hope of escape unless she took a big risk. A huge risk.

  The screen popped up. Janelle shook her head and closed it. No way. I deserve better than some gross, old guy cheating on his wife.

  Yet maybe Crystal was right. Being good wasn’t getting her anywhere. Maybe it was time to try being bad. What better day to commit to a big change than on her birthday?

  2

  He shouldn’t be here.

  The red carpet and gold chandelier recalled another world, another lifetime. One that beckoned with the thrum of muted excitement, even now. He could go back. If he wanted to. Poker was mostly math and patience. But he wasn’t that person anymore. Six years ago, everything had changed here in the banquet hall of the Astoria Casino Hotel. His life had crashed down from the high only this palace of chance could give.

  He was here to pay his respects. To remind himself why he needed to stick to his chosen course. He had find out whether his old life still had any power over him.

  It did.

  Trent Mason ran one hand over the back of a red velvet chair. The soft fabric slipped beneath his palm like a lover’s back.

  Six years ago, he’d lost millions. Professional poker was a game of probability, not money. It didn’t matter whether you were up or down at any given moment until you bet wrong and lost. Everything he’d built had been vaporized in a flash of inattention and bad luck. A few weeks before, everything else that mattered had been vaporized, too. He’d been twenty-three, and left with nothing.