Explicitly Yours Series

by Jessica Hawkins

  Lola thought immediately of his cock, how large it’d been in her hand, how it’d dominated her mouth. It wasn’t what she’d meant, but she had a feeling Vero was thinking the same thing. “More. Sometimes it was like he knew me better than I knew myself. Like he’d memorized a map beforehand or something. And not just of my body. It—I can’t really put it into words.”

  “I can. Basically he fucked your brains out.”

  Lola was done blushing. This time she tutted at Vero, but she said, “Right out of my head.”

  “Damn.” Vero shrugged. “That’s all I got, just—damn. He must’ve been something else.”

  “He was. Just don’t mention any of this to Johnny.”

  “How’s he taking it?”

  “I’m not sure.” Lola glanced over at her boyfriend. He was laughing with a table of customers she didn’t recognize. He always made people feel at home. “He’s been pretty quiet about it. I’m just glad he’s getting all this.”

  “He’ll do great, the bastard,” Vero said. “Give it some time, though. Guess that’s all you can do now. Don’t overthink things.”

  Don’t overthink things. Lola had tried to erase Beau’s text message and his number. Each time, she hesitated until the screen went black. His number within reach—that felt like thinking about him. Like he was right there. Once she erased it, he would be gone. Officially.

  When the bar was at its busiest a few hours later, Lola snuck out back for a cigarette. She’d assumed no one would notice, but Johnny opened the door a minute later. He looked around until he spotted her leaning against the building’s brick wall.

  “You all right?” he asked, coming over. “Been a while since you had one of those.”

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She offered him the cigarette, and he took a drag. “I’ve missed that,” he said with his exhale.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Look at us,” he said. “We’re buying a business. We quit smoking. We’re adults.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Fuck if I know. We had fun, though. Think we’re still fun?”

  “Fun adults? I think the two are mutually exclusive.”

  He smiled. “Yeah. Last week I told Tom if he opened the bar late one more time, I’d beat his ass. I’m my dad.”

  Lola laughed. “You even sound like him when you say it.”

  Johnny put the cigarette to his lips. He had that far off look in his eyes she’d been seeing too much of lately.

  “What’s going on, Johnny?” she asked. “Are you pissed at me?”

  He looked down at her. “Pissed?”

  “You’re distant. You’ve barely talked to me all night.”

  “You were right the other day. I have to get serious about the bar now. I can’t be screwing around anymore.”

  “That’s not what I meant. This is a lot of work, but it’s supposed to be fun too. This is a dream come true.”

  “Yeah. Just need a little time to get adjusted.”

  “You left home without me today,” Lola said. “I had to hitch a ride with Vero.”

  “I had a meeting with Mitch.”

  Lola felt as if she’d been slapped. It had never once occurred to her that either of them would need to meet with Mitch alone. She leaned toward him. “You don’t think maybe I ought to be there for that?”

  “That’s what you want, babe, sure. I thought I was supposed to handle the business stuff.”

  She proceeded with caution for both their sakes. Johnny’s voice had an edge to it that she’d heard during their arguments, usually when he was too frustrated to remain rational. “I want this to be your baby,” Lola said. “It’s your dream. But I’m part of this too—a big part. You’re in charge, but that doesn’t mean I’m not at all in charge. I’m here to make decisions and to support you however I can.”

  He laughed just under his breath. “However you can. I’d say so.”

  “You know what? I don’t like this snarky side of you.” She’d probably said things she shouldn’t have at some point too, but it wasn’t in either of their natures to be deliberately mean.

  He shrugged and looked up at the sky.

  “Are you mad because I won’t do it again?” she asked. “Or because I would?”

  “Well, which is it?” he asked, his head still tilted back.

  “Whatever you want it to be,” Lola said.

  “I just want the truth.”

  “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

  “All right, so give it to me straight.” He glanced back down at her. “You want to or you don’t? Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “We agreed not to get into details.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He laughed in disbelief. “No wonder you don’t want me asking questions. You did enjoy it.”

  “Would you prefer I hated it? On my back, silently crying, pleading at the ceiling for it to be over?” She turned her face away as her cheeks got hot. It was almost as if he’d heard her conversation with Vero, but he’d been across the room.

  The cigarette burned down in his hand, and he didn’t respond.

  She knew the answer to her own question. Things could’ve gone much worse with Beau, and she was grateful they hadn’t. She’d do a lot for Johnny, but she wasn’t going to wish it’d been terrible for her just so he would feel better. “I’d do it again,” she said. “If you thought it was for the best.”

  “For the best,” Johnny murmured. “The best being money.”

  “The best being our future.”

  “But here’s the clincher, folks,” he said. “The kind of future they want costs money.”

  “If you feel that strongly, just tell me not to do it.”

  “Thought we already decided you wouldn’t.” He tossed the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. “You want to do it, then do it. Don’t try to make it look like I’m asking you for it. You did it once, so it’s not even like it’s that big of a deal.”

  Lola set her jaw. “How can you say that?”

  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.

  Johnny pulled into their parking spot and shut off the car. “When we own the bar, does that mean we can hire other people to work this late?”

  She looked over at him. It was the first attempt at conversation he’d made since their argument.

  “We’re getting too old for this shit,” he continued. There was something in his voice—nerves? Guilt? When she didn’t respond, he said, “I’m sorry about earlier. I acted like a jerk.”

  Lola glanced at her hands. “I’m not admitting to that. To the thing about being too old.” One thing she appreciated about Johnny was his ability to admit his faults. When they fought, he almost always apologized first. And when he didn’t, it was because he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. “I promised my early-twenties self that I’d never get old,” she said. “But my late-twenties self is having a tough time holding up her end of the bargain.”

  Johnny grinned—she knew without even looking. Things were right with him again, but not for long. As they got out of the car and walked to their apartment, the air around Lola seemed thick, as if a storm were brewing.

  Johnny fought with the lock on the front door. “Every damn time,” he muttered. He flipped on the lights once they were inside. “We should think about getting a new place.”

  “I’d like that,” Lola said.

  He tossed his keys on the coffee table. “How much would you love not paying rent?”

  “So much,” she said on the way to the kitchen. “Adults pay mortgages, after all.”

  “Yep.” He came up behind her, curling his arms around her middle as she poured herself water from the tap. “You know what else adults do?”

  “I can think of a thing or two,” she said.

  He nuzzled her neck, squeezing her to him. “How about a shower to wash the night off? We both stink like cigarettes.” He slid his hands up to her breasts. “Good thing I like you anyway.”

  “A shower at three in the morning?”

  “I don’t care. Horny, babe.”

  Water flooded the glass in the sink. She was unaffected by his advances. His cruelty and abrupt dismissal earlier still left her chilly. But even if she responded to Johnny’s touch, she couldn’t sleep with him. Not after she’d told Beau she hadn’t.

  “Johnny,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I called him.”

  He stopped moving. His breath warmed her cheek. Her anxious heart was trying to burst out of her chest.

  “What?” He released her. “You’re going back?”

  She turned around and steeled herself against the sink. “Yes.”

  “But you—I thought we’d discuss it more.”

  “You said what you had to say outside the bar. I didn’t like it, but you said it. So I made the call.”

  “Well, fuck.” He ran his hands over his scalp and held them up. “You just made the call, that’s it?”

  “He agreed to another million,” she said. “Same terms as before.”

  He dropped his arms at his sides. “You should’ve discussed this with me. What if I didn’t want you to do it again? Or what if we could’ve gotten more? We hold the cards here.”

  She gripped the counter, narrowing her eyes. The money was becoming too important a factor for him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Another million is more than enough. And you’re the one who told me to call.”

  “Come on, Lola. You know how I am. I was mouthing off because I was pissed.”

  She’d known exactly that, but she’d made the call anyway. Did that mean she was to blame? “So, what? You don’t want me to do it?”

  He blew his cheeks out with his exhale. “I…”

  They both looked away from each other, he into the next room and she at the stove. Her heartbeat had slowed. There was no point in pretending he didn’t want that money enough to let her do this again. She wasn’t the only bad guy. Her desire to see Beau became less of a weight on her shoulders.

  “I saw a video online. You and him at that benefit or whatever.” Johnny’s eyes darted over the floor.

  “When?”
/>   “A couple days ago.”

  She’d forgotten he might see that. Johnny’d wanted details—how was that for one? Her red lips glued to Beau’s mouth, turning his lips red too? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged in his lumbering way, looking up again. “Brenda found it on one of those entertainment news sites. Mark showed me it on his phone.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “It caught me totally off guard,” he said. “I had nothing.”

  Her stomach heaved. She covered it with one arm. Mark and Brenda weren’t judgmental people, but that didn’t matter. A situation like this was nearly impossible to justify. “You told them the truth? Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “What was I supposed to say, it was your long lost twin out for a night on the town with one of the richest men in Los Angeles? Mark and I played pool with the guy the night he came into the bar.”

  “Too many people know.”

  “You should’ve thought of that. Did you not notice the cameras? I asked you not to kiss him, so you went and did it in front of thousands of people.”

  “But, Johnny, he—”

  “Yeah, yeah, he made you do it. They called you ‘Beau Olivier’s Sassy Mystery Woman.’ Sassy? In what universe do people use that word? And to describe my girlfriend?”

  “You don’t understand. I was playing a part.”

  “You were damn convincing too. Especially when you told that reporter to take her hands off your man. Real sassy. You think I liked having to watch that in front of my best friend? Trying not to react?”

  Lola rubbed under her eyes with her knuckles. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but you know what I was dealing with.”

  “Whatever.” He started to leave, but turned back to her. His stance relaxed, and he put his hands out, as if asking her for help with something. It reminded her of the first time he’d come with her to the Laundromat, and she’d explained the concept of delicates. “So tell me how this goes,” he said. “He picks you up. Takes you—where, his place? A motel? Does he push you onto your knees or do you go willingly?”

  She flinched. “Stop it.”

  “In your stupid dress and red lipstick—yeah, I saw that on the video too. Why don’t you wear lipstick like that for me?”