by Lauren Rowe
“Whatcha doing? You look like you’re plotting something diabolical.”
“Nothing too exciting. I’m reading a report on the background check I ran on you, Aiden MacAllister. And I’m thrilled to report everything you told me last night checks out.”
I can’t breathe. “You’re in law enforcement? You said you’re an accountant.”
Savvy puts her elbows on the table and grins. “I’m not in law enforcement. And I never said I’m an accountant. You assumed that. I said the firm where I worked was a full-service accounting and finance firm with lots of different divisions, including cybersecurity, where I worked.”
“You’re a hacker?”
“Correct. But not in the way most people use that word. I’m purely white hat preventative. My job is—or was, up until yesterday—to find all the ways corporate clients might be vulnerable to hacking so I could protect them. In other words, I found the holes so I could plug them up.” She grins adorably.
“Impressive. So, tell me, Little Miss Hacker… What cyber voodoo magic did you use to lead you to my last name? I’m positive I never mentioned it to you last night.”
“You didn’t.”
“So what did you do? Take note of every little bread crumb I babbled to you last night—about Nashville and my grandfather and my mom’s tour bus crash and my criminal record—and then put it all together and connect the dots?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I did. Brilliant, huh?”
“Genius.”
“Well, either that or I peeked at your driver’s license while you were sleeping.”
“Ah, the ol’ peek-at-the-license maneuver,” I manage to say, doing my best to keep my voice relaxed. What else did Savvy see when she was poking around in my backpack? “So did you riffle through my entire backpack or just grab my wallet and peek at my license?”
Savvy flashes me a flirtatious smile. “I just grabbed your wallet. Why? Did I miss seeing a big ol’ brick of cocaine at the bottom of your backpack? Are you a drug mule for a Mexican cartel?”
The playful look on Savvy’s face tells me she genuinely has no idea there’s an envelope filled with twenty-five grand in cash sitting in a side compartment of my backpack.
I raise three fingers into a Boy Scout pledge. “I’m not a drug mule. I promise. The only drug in my backpack is ibuprofen. I was just curious what kinds of information a brainiac hacker like yourself uses to run a background check.”
“I had everything I needed right here.” She taps her computer.
I sigh with relief. I have zero desire to explain that twenty-five grand to her. “So what did Derek the Douchebag say about all the homemade porn you sent him?”
“He hasn’t responded yet. But that’s not unexpected, seeing as how I chucked his phone off the top of a mountain yesterday. He probably hasn’t seen the videos quite yet.”
“You’re seriously not freaking out you sent them to him?”
“Why should I? Thanks to your suggestion, the world won’t know it’s me fucking that tattooed hottie in the videos. Honestly, I’m elated I sent those videos to Derek. I’m a woman who’s all out of fucks to give.”
I laugh. “Or as my grandfather used to say, ‘Your give-a-shitter done broke.’”
Savvy whoops. “Oh, I love that. My give-a-shitter done broke. Yup. That’s exactly right.” She bites her lip and flashes me a sexy look. “So, hey, you want to watch our videos? I watched them this morning while you were still sleeping, and I must say, I enjoyed them.”
I pat the bed next to me. “Hell yeah.”
Smiling from ear to ear, Savvy grabs her phone and joins me in the bed and we begin watching our videos. But by the time we get to the video of Savvy sitting on my face, we’re both far too turned on to watch ourselves any longer…and, quickly, life begins furiously imitating art.
Chapter Nine
Savannah
Aiden and I are sitting across from each other at a diner along the route to Las Vegas. And, the same way I’ve been doing all morning since we left the motel, I’m trying to muster the courage to say something in particular to him.
“How’s your food?” I ask, indicating the omelet in front of him. But, damn it, asking Aiden about his food isn’t what I’ve been dying to talk to him about.
“It’s great,” Aiden replies. “How’s yours?”
“Great,” I say. I take a bite of my food. And then a sip of my coffee. And clear my throat. “Thanks so much for playing me those songs in the car. I loved hearing you talk about your grandfather’s contributions to music history.” Damn. That wasn’t the thing I’ve been dying to say to Aiden, either, although I did, in fact, love hearing the songs Aiden played me in the car—songs featuring Ernie “Mac” MacAllister on guitar. And even more so, I loved hearing Aiden rhapsodize about his grandfather’s guitar playing on the songs.
“You sure I didn’t bore the hell out of you?” Aiden says.
“Are you kidding? You gave me goose bumps at least ten times.”
Aiden beams a huge smile at me and then takes a bite of his food.
Crap. I’m running out of time to make this suggestion. I need to just spit it out. “So, hey, Aiden, I was thinking.” Oh, God, my heart is racing. “What if I were to buy you out of your contract?”
Aiden stares at me blankly.
I continue. “What if I were to pay you whatever you’ll be getting to perform at that birthday party in Vegas on Saturday night? It’d be the best of both worlds. You’d be able to come to my reunion and still be able to earn the exact same amount of money. Saturday is still two days away. Plenty of time for the party organizer to find someone else to play, especially in a city like Vegas where…” I trail off. Aiden looks uncomfortable. And that’s making me realize I must have pulled another Savvy. Misread the nonverbal cues. Taken a person’s words literally when they were simply being polite. I look down at my hands. “Oh. I just realized you only said that thing about my reunion to be nice, and I took you literally. Sorry.”
“Savvy, no,” Aiden says sharply. “Look at me.”
I look up from my hands, my heart pounding.
“I told you the truth. If I could go with you to your reunion on Saturday night, I would. But it’s not possible. And it’s a moot point anyway because you can’t possibly afford to buy me out of my contract.”
I sigh. “Maybe I could. How much could they possibly be paying you? A grand? I looked up the going rate for solo musicians on this party website and it said—”
“Twenty-five grand.”
My heart stops. I shut my mouth and blink several times in rapid succession like a lizard on a rock, but I can’t make sense of the words I’ve just heard. “What?”
“I’m getting paid twenty-five grand.”
I can’t fathom how that’s possible. Aiden is getting paid twenty-five grand to sing and play his acoustic guitar at a birthday party? Is he an undercover rock star? Maybe some big country star I’ve never heard of because I don’t typically listen to that kind of music? But, no, that can’t be. When I scoured the internet for information about Aiden MacAllister, nothing came up that even remotely suggested Aiden could command twenty-five grand to play his guitar at a freaking birthday party, whether in Sin City or anywhere else. Plus, hold up. Didn’t Aiden tell me his weekly gig at that brunch place in Silver Lake is by far his best-paying gig? Didn’t he say he can’t pay his bills from music alone? Does. Not. Compute.
“But…you said you have to have a day job because music doesn’t pay your bills,” I say. “Twenty-five grand won’t pay your bills? Do you have a coke habit or something?”
Aiden shakes his head. “No, I don’t have a coke habit. I don’t do drugs.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I whisper, my stomach clenching. I wrap my arms around my torso, girding myself for whatever bomb Aiden is about to drop on me. “Whatever you’re hiding from me, tell me, Aiden. Tell me now.”
Aiden leans back in his chair. He rubs his face. “I’m s
o sorry, Savvy. I—”
“Refills?” the waitress chirps, appearing out of nowhere with a coffee pot.
We both shake our heads, and she leaves. And the minute she’s gone, I lean forward, my cheeks burning.
“Whatever you’re about to say to me, make sure it contains exactly zero lies,” I whisper. “I’m done being lied to, Aiden, by anyone, ever again. If you lie to me, be prepared to get another ride to Vegas from here.”
Aiden looks tortured. He bites his cheek, but he remains mute. Clearly, he’s choosing his words carefully.
“Are you even a musician?” I whisper.
“Of course.” He motions to his music-themed tattoos. “Or else I’m a fucking psychopath.”
“Are you a fucking psychopath?”
“No. I’m perfectly sane.”
“Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”
He exhales a long breath. “I didn’t lie to you, okay? That’s the most important thing you need to know. I told you I’m a musician and that I’m working on Saturday night at a birthday party—both true. But I never said I’m playing music at that birthday party. You connected those dots on your own.” He grimaces. “And…I didn’t correct you.”
“You haven’t been hired to play music at the birthday party?”
He shakes his head.
I cross my arms over my chest. “What did they hire you to do?”
He looks like he wants to throw up.
“You’re doing something illegal, aren’t you? I was right this morning. You’re a drug mule. You work for a cartel.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not a drug mule, Savvy. This has nothing to do with drugs.” He sighs. “But, yes, it’s something illegal. But only technically. It’s a victimless crime.” He grimaces again and mutters, “Unless you count me.” When I look at him blankly, he takes a deep breath and speaks on his exhale. “I’m attending the party as the birthday girl’s…date. I’m her birthday present to herself.”
Shock. Repulsion. Jealousy. Those are the emotions instantly slamming into me in full force. I slam my fist on the table and lean forward, my cheeks blazing hot. “You’re an escort?”
Aiden nods.
“A twenty-five-thousand-dollar escort?”
“Yes.”
I stare at him, expecting him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Well, are you a paid escort as in ‘fake boyfriend’ or as in ‘gigolo’?”
Aiden cringes sharply at my last word, telling me the answer to my question is the latter option.
I put my hand to my mouth. “No.”
He nods slowly, a look of pure nausea on his face.
“You’re getting paid twenty-five thousand dollars to have sex with the birthday girl?”
He looks down at the table. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that. But, yes.”
I feel physically ill. Duped. Pissed. Stupid. “What do you mean you’re hoping it won’t come to that?”
He doesn’t reply.
I wait.
Still nothing.
“So that’s your day job, then?” I ask. “Fucking? You lied to me about working construction? You’re actually some kind of con artist!”
Aiden snaps his head up and levels me with blazing blue eyes that physically jolt me. “No, I’m not a con artist. And I’m not a liar. I didn’t lie to you, Savvy. Other than when I didn’t correct your assumption about what I’d be doing at the birthday party, I’ve been completely honest with you. More honest with you than anyone, ever, actually. Not sure why. When I said I’ve never done anything like this before, that was true. When I said I’m hoping I won’t have to do it now, that was true, too. Selling myself to someone I don’t want to fuck is most definitely my Plan B. I’ll do it if I have to do it simply because I’m in a bad situation and my father needs the money, but I’m genuinely hoping it won’t come to that. I know the world assumes men will happily fuck anyone at all, but it’s not true. At least, not for me. I don’t fuck unless I’m feeling it. Like I told you, if I’m not feeling it, I’d rather be alone with my guitar, my hand, and a bottle of lube. But I might not have a choice in this instance, so fuck it, I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
His chest is heaving. His eyes are on fire. His jaw is tight. And God help me, I believe every word he just said to me. I could be wrong—God knows I could, knowing me. But the look on Aiden’s face tells me he’s baring his soul to me. “What’s going on, Aiden?” I ask. “What do you mean it’s your Plan B? What do you mean you’re in a bad situation? Is your father in some sort of trouble? Does he owe money to loan sharks?”
“I don’t want to get you involved, Savvy.”
“Too late.”
“It’s not too late. When we get to Vegas, I’m going to say goodbye to you for your own good. I’ll do my thing, whatever I have to do, and keep you the fuck out of this. I shouldn’t have said anything to you. I just…” He shakes his head and looks down. “I just can’t get you involved.”
I stare at him for a long moment. “What do you mean sleeping with the birthday girl is Plan B? What’s Plan A?”
He sighs. “There’s something I’m going to do when I get to Vegas. But I can’t guarantee it will work. Which means I can’t guarantee I won’t have to follow through with the job with the birthday girl—which is why I think it’s best we say goodbye when we get to Vegas. Not only do I not want to drag you into this, I selfishly don’t want to have to see the look in your eye if I wind up stringing you along and giving you hope and then having to report for duty with the birthday girl, regardless. The more time we spend together, the more attached we’re going to become. That much is clear to me. And if it turns out I have no choice but to shut my eyes and give the birthday girl what she wants, I don’t want to break your heart.” He looks down again. “Or mine.”
My heart lurches into my throat. “You need to tell me everything right now.”
“I don’t want to get you involved.”
“Jesus Christ.” I grunt with frustration. “Enough with that.”
He doesn’t speak.
“Just tell me who the hell is this birthday girl?” I bellow. “I mean, seriously! What self-respecting woman would pay a guy twenty-five grand to sleep with her, when he has no desire to do it? Is she some spoiled brat who saw you playing at that brunch place in Silver Lake? Did she tell her daddy she saw the most gorgeous man in the world, and she just had to—”
“She’s not a girl,” Aiden says. “She’s a full-grown woman. I used the phrase ‘birthday girl’ as a figure of speech. She’s throwing herself a fiftieth birthday party on Saturday night.”
I’ve been rendered speechless.
Aiden continues, “Her name is Regina. She’s an old friend of my father’s. She’s been covertly hitting on me since I was sixteen years old. I’ve always brushed her off. Ignored her. Left the room. I’ve never told a soul about her bullshit. But then my father called me Wednesday morning, freaking the fuck out, telling me he needs money, and I felt like I had no other option but to call Regina and beg her to help me.”
“It’s loan sharks, right? I know it is. Just tell me.”
Aiden exhales. “Yes. But I really didn’t want to get you involved with this, Savvy. You’re squeaky clean.”
“Too late. I’m involved. Now tell me everything. Right fucking now.”
He closes his eyes and sighs.
“If this situation weren’t hanging over your head, would you want to say goodbye to me in Vegas?” I ask.
He opens his eyes. “No.”
“Well, I don’t want to say goodbye to you, either. So tell me everything so maybe, just maybe, I can help you with this mess.”
He hesitates.
“Goddamnit, Aiden! Not telling me is the same thing as lying to me, as far as I’m concerned. If you want to have any sliver of a chance with me, then tell me everything right now.”
He throws up his hands. “I don’t have a sliver of a chance with you, regardless. Don’t you understand? If it weren’t for
this shitstorm, I’d still be dreaming to get with a girl like you. You’re this…brainiac college graduate corporate America Girl Scout. And I’m…” He lowers his head. “Not a guy a girl like you would bring home to meet the parents.”
I stare at his bowed head for a very long moment. How is it possible I feel so moved by this man, this quickly? How is it possible my heart feels like it’s physically straining for him? “Okay, first off, fuck everything you just said. It’s total bullshit. Aiden, look at me.”
He lifts his head.
“Fuck that ‘We don’t fit together’ bullshit. It’s stupid and I categorically reject it. But there’s no time to have a therapy session over that right now. What matters is you’re in a bad situation, and your father needs money, and you’re willing to sacrifice yourself to help him—and I want to help you. That’s all that matters right now.”
He nods.
I continue, “Whether we’re going to see each other ever again after today or not, I want to help you, regardless. I don’t expect anything from you, okay? You won’t be obligated to me if I help you. Just let me help you, if I can, simply because I want to do it.”
He nods. “Thank you.”
“Tell me what’s going on. Tell me all of it.”
Aiden considers my plea for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and says, “My dad owes fifty grand to some loan sharks, and they’re holding him as collateral in a motel in Henderson. If he doesn’t pay them what he owes by Sunday night, they’re gonna shoot him in the head. He called me on Wednesday around three in the morning from the motel where he’s being held, totally freaking out. I told him not to worry, that I’d handle everything. So then I hung up and called Regina—the birthday girl—because she’s the only rich person I know. She used to hang out with my dad off and on before he went to prison five years ago. I begged her for the fifty grand my father needs. I told her I’d do anything. Remodel her kitchen. Anything.” He rolls his eyes. “It didn’t even occur to me she’d demand to fuck me. Yeah, she used to hit on me all the time, but I didn’t think she was such a monster that she’d…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I couldn’t believe my ears, Savvy. I couldn’t believe it. I begged her for the full fifty, but twenty-five was as high as she’d go.” He sighs. “So I said fine.”