Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2)

by Jessica Hawkins

  He held up his palms. “I understand this is serious, I promise, but we haven’t even sat down with Mitch yet. Let’s take a little time to get adjusted.”

  He ate another donut. She’d already lost him for the morning. Johnny wouldn’t be any good to her if she forced him to stay home—as if this had been her dream. As if she’d always wanted a bar of her own. She’d have to feed off Johnny’s passion to make this work, but he wasn’t showing her any.

  “Go ahead to the game,” she said. “I’m staying here. You really think Mitch’ll give us both the night off?”

  “It’s a Sunday,” he said. “They can handle things without us. But, um…”

  The look on his face told Lola she was about to hear something she wouldn’t like. If he asked her to make potato salad, when the reason she was skipping the picnic was because there was so much to do, she’d really let him have it. “What?” she asked, already irritated.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about this the last few days. Everybody knows we don’t have the money to come in and buy Hey Joe, especially in cash. So the money’s got to come from somewhere.”

  “Okay,” she prompted.

  “So I got this idea. After the game, I’ll call in and tell Mitch there was a death in your family. You didn’t hear about it until now because you never knew him, but the guy—let’s say your great uncle—left you a huge inheritance.”

  “No way,” Lola said, turning back to her notepad. “That’s too fucked up.”

  “I tell Mitch I have to stay home with you, so it gives us the next couple days off to work on the plan, and it also explains the money. They already know you don’t got much family, so it wouldn’t be weird that you find out about this long-lost cousin.”

  “Uncle,” Lola corrected.

  “Whatever. Lo, how else are we going to explain it?”

  Normally Lola’s answer would’ve been the truth—that was a pretty good explanation for most things. But not in this case. She looked up at him again.

  He shrugged. “What else? The lottery? A death in the family invites no questions, and it kills two birds with one stone.”

  “We can’t do that,” she said. “Mitch, Vero, Quartz—they’re like family. What about Mark and Brenda? Are you willing to lie to your best friend about this?”

  Johnny looked out the tiny window over the kitchen sink a minute. “Well, then I guess we tell them the truth. You slept with a wealthy guy. Makes me look like a chump, but I’m more worried about you.”

  Lola had been scribbling absentmindedly on her notepad. They wouldn’t get away without an explanation. It was the first she’d thought of it, though. She stopped doodling and gripped the pen. “We can’t tell them the truth. So I guess we have no other choice.”

  “All right, that’s settled then. Don’t worry about them. I’ll take care of it.” He came over and squeezed her shoulders. “You seem tense.”

  “I thought the hard part was over,” she said. “But we still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  “It’ll all come together, babe. Don’t stress.” He massaged her, and she relaxed back in her seat. “Sure you don’t want to come? Just for a few hours?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll get everything in order, and we can sit down when you get home.”

  “Cool. They’ll be pissed about the potato salad,” he teased.

  She smiled a little. Potato salad didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore, now that she was lying about a death in her family. “Swing by Pavilions on your way. Nobody’ll even know the difference.”

  He kissed the top of her head and lingered there a moment. “Of course they will. You make it the best.” He straightened up, ruffled her hair and left the kitchen.

  Lola glanced at her computer screen. When she’d researched Beau before their night together, she’d come across a feature a few years back naming him as one of Los Angeles’s top investors in startup companies. Lola searched for the article. Each featured investor had been quoted alongside their stats. At the time, she hadn’t given Beau’s piece much thought. But now it seemed worth revisiting.

  “I’m looking at the people just as much as the project. Without those who are willing to work hard and sacrifice, a company won’t make it. There’s no lack of good ideas or passion out there, but building something with your own two hands takes endurance.”

  Beau had passion for his work. She hadn’t realized it until they’d talked about it at the gala. He’d also toiled, stayed dedicated, overcome defeat. Regardless of how he flaunted his money or that he’d treated her like a commodity, he’d earned all of his dollars, and there was something to be said for that.

  Having passion was the easy part. If she and Johnny didn’t even have that, how would they make this work?

  * * * * *

  They went to Mitch that Tuesday afternoon. He listened to their offer, his face more saggy than normal while he stared at them across his desk. When Johnny finished, it was a few moments before anyone spoke.

  “I’m just a little…” Mitch seemed to struggle for words. “I didn’t really expect you to pull this off. Where’s this money coming from?”

  “I told you Lola’s relative passed away,” Johnny said. “He also left her some money.”

  “I thought you said you found out about him this weekend. You came to me last week and asked me to wait for your offer.”

  “Well, we found out last week,” Johnny said. “We just weren’t sure if the money would come through, but it will. It didn’t really hit Lola until Sunday, which is why she needed me there.”

  “Right. Sorry to bring it up. Lola, this is what you want to do with your money?”

  “Yes. And it’s our money,” she said. “This is Johnny’s dream. I don’t want there to be any question about who’s in charge.”

  “What about you?” Mitch asked.

  The night before, Johnny had caught Lola on the Santa Monica College website, browsing through the degree programs. “I’m thinking of going back to school,” she’d said.

  “But Hey Joe will require all of our time and money now,” he’d said. “Your words.”

  It was true—she’d said that. And school would always be there. But they could end up in trouble if they weren’t careful, and neither of them had any business experience. She’d agreed and let it go. She’d already missed registration anyway.

  “I’m completely on board,” Lola said to Mitch. With or without the education, she was dedicated to making this work. “But Johnny’s the one sailing this ship.”

  “Six hundred K,” Johnny said. “That’s a pretty sweet offer, Mitch.”

  “It is, but—”

  Lola curled her hands in her lap. “But what? You said that would be enough.”

  “I did say that, yes. When Walken found out I needed more time because I was hearing another proposal, he upped his offer.”

  “To how much?” Johnny asked. Lola closed her eyes.

  “Eight hundred,” Mitch said.

  The room was quiet. Lola shook her head and looked at Mitch again. “That’s ridiculously high.”

  Mitch shrugged. “I know.”

  “I researched the value of nearby businesses,” Lola said. “Six hundred was too high. Eight hundred is just…”

  “Too much,” Mitch said.

  “Hank can’t possibly think he’s getting a deal.”

  Mitch nodded. “I’m agreeing with you. But I’m going to turn down an extra two hundred because the guy’s an idiot?”

  “We can do eight hundred,” Johnny said.

  Lola turned to him. “Johnny—”

  “Mitch, listen to me,” Johnny said, putting his hands on the edge of the desk. “We’ll take it for eight hundred. We’ve got our hearts set on it. But please don’t let Walken drive it any higher. Promise me here, now, as my friend of over twelve years—this is everything I’ve got.”

  Mitch sighed. “I can’t promise—”

  “Mitch.” Johnny leaned forward. His fingers presse
d down until they were white. “Do you really want to see your dad’s place ruined for a little more money? Don’t get greedy, man. Don’t sell out. You know Lola and I will keep your dad’s vision alive.”

  Johnny was at the edge of his seat, practically falling forward onto his knees. The last time she’d seen him so impassioned was when he was asking her nineteen-year-old self to quit her self-destructive lifestyle so they could be together. This big-picture excitement was what she needed from him, but it had to trickle down to the routine parts of running a business too.

  “Son of a bitch,” Mitch said. “You’d better not let me down.”

  “So we have a deal?” Johnny asked, standing.

  “Just don’t mention that last part to Barb, all right?” Mitch said. “She finds out I could’ve gotten more money and she’ll have my neck.”

  Lola wasn’t sure what to feel. It was what they’d wanted, but that money would cut into their already limited budget.

  “I have to tell you, though,” Mitch continued, “the landlord’s wary of the whole thing. His dad dealt with my dad, and our families have done business since opening day. He wants six months’ rent upfront plus a security deposit.”

  “What’s that look like?” Lola asked.

  “Deposit is thirty grand, and with half a year’s rent you’re looking at over a hundred K.”

  Lola and Johnny exchanged glances. That would mean they’d be going forward with less than a hundred thousand to fall back on. It didn’t seem like enough.

  “It’s not a problem,” Johnny said.

  Lola touched his forearm. “Maybe we should take a minute and think about this.”

  “We’ll still have enough,” he said quietly. “It’s not as much as we set aside for renovations, but it’s enough to get started.”

  “What about advertising?”

  “We’ll worry about that later, once we get some profit coming in.” Lola was about to explain there might not be any profits if they couldn’t get customers in the door, but Johnny cut her off by reaching out to shake Mitch’s hand. “Thanks, man. Really, I mean it.”

  “Can’t wait to see what you do with the place. Why don’t you two take the night off? Go do something fun.”

  “You’re giving us another night?” Lola asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “Just one. As a congratulations.” He sat back at his desk. “It could be a while before you both get another night off together.”

  They thanked Mitch and headed out to the parking lot together. Time alone was just what they needed. It was what they deserved after everything they’d been through.

  Johnny surprised Lola by picking her up and spinning her around. “Can you fucking believe it?” he said, grinning. “We’re doing it. Buying a goddamn bar.”

  Lola smiled despite the pit in her stomach. “I think I’m still in shock.”

  “Not me. I’ve been ready for years.”

  “We should change the name to Hey Johnny,” she joked.

  He chuckled, squeezing her. “I wish. Where should we celebrate? And don’t say a bar.”

  She also laughed.

  “God, I love your laugh,” he said. “Always have.”

  “Johnny,” she said, burying her face in his neck. He could still catch her off guard and make her blush. He was happy, and even though she worried, she was happy too. That eased the pit in her stomach a little.

  * * * * *

  Lola owned one dress for such a special occasion—fitted but not flashy, sheer from her neck to her cleavage, including the sleeves to her elbows. Black, of course. She’d worn it once for Johnny’s kid sister’s college graduation party.

  She came out of the bathroom, all fixed up. Johnny pushed hangers around the closet, still in his underwear.

  “Babe?” she asked. Normally he was ready in half the time it took her.

  “Don’t have anything to wear,” he muttered. “I’ll have to get some new things.”

  “What you’ve got is fine, Johnny. You don’t have to dress up.”

  He looked over his shoulder at her, up and down. “I’ve never seen that dress before.”

  “Yes, you have. I wore it to Natasha’s graduation.”

  “Oh.” He turned back to the closet. “Well, I’d call that pretty dressed up. I can’t exactly show up in jeans when you’re wearing that.”

  “I can change,” she said. It made no difference to her. She wasn’t even the one who’d chosen the restaurant, an expensive steakhouse in Beverly Hills they’d read about in the paper a few weeks earlier.

  “No, don’t. You look too pretty.” He pulled out a checkered, long-sleeved button down. “How’s this? Also what I wore to her graduation.”

  “It’s—” She turned toward the kitchen when her phone rang. “That shirt’s great, honey,” she called as she left the room. “You look good in red.”

  She found her cell in her purse, and her heart leapt at the unknown number. It couldn’t be him, though. Beau was not allowed to just sneak up on her that way—not when it was so important that she put him behind her. With a quick glance back toward the bedroom, she answered it and held her breath.

  “Lola,” there was a pause on the line, “are you there, ma chatte?”

  She placed the phone over her chest, then pulled it away, worried he’d hear her nervous heartbeat. She went out the front door, closed it quietly behind her and put her cell to her ear again. “What do you want?”

  “You haven’t given me an answer,” Beau said.

  “I told you no in the car that morning.”

  “You discussed it with Johnny?”

  She hesitated. Before her first night with Beau, she’d been stronger. She was able to see clearer. She hadn’t told Johnny about Beau’s second offer. If Johnny made her decide again, she had a feeling she knew what her answer would be. It was better not to ask the question at all. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”

  He made a low, humming noise that reminded her of his mouth between her legs. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “It doesn’t matter what Johnny says. The answer is no.”

  “Have you bought the bar yet?”

  The change of topic took her a moment to register. “Yes. Well, no. We gave our offer, and now it’s just a matter of paperwork.”

  “Do you have a lawyer?”

  “Johnny’s cousin is one.”

  “Johnny’s cousin,” Beau repeated to himself. “Who will represent you?”

  “What? There is no me. There’s only me and Johnny.”

  “You need representation too.”

  “No, I don’t. And even if I did, it’s none of your business.”

  They were quiet a moment. She pictured Beau in his office at the end of the day. He could’ve been at home, but he sounded tense. Maybe Lola brought that out in him, though. It seemed they were frequently on the verge of arguing.

  “I’ll have my lawyer contact you,” he said finally. “He’d keep only your best interests in mind. My treat.”

  “I can’t go to Johnny with my own lawyer. That’s absurd.”

  “Are you buying the place together?”

  “Yes.”

  “So your name will go on everything?”

  “Yes, but it’s Johnny’s baby.”

  “How will you share the profits? Fifty-fifty? What if you break up?”

  “Break up?”

  “That’s why you need someone looking out for you.”

  “I have someone,” Lola said softly. “Johnny. We aren’t breaking up.”

  “I just want you to be careful. Smart. You’ve never had money like this to complicate things.”

  She’d only had the money a few days, but that was turning out to be true. Before Beau had walked into their lives, things had been simple. Now, every day came with a new problem that was above her and Johnny’s heads and new tension between them.

  “Money’s supposed to make life easier,” she said.

  “It doesn’t. People think that, but they
don’t realize there are downsides to wealth.”

  “Are you calling to talk me out of taking the deal?”

  “So you’re considering it then?”

  “No. I didn’t mean it like that.” Or had she? Was she considering it? A night like the one they’d had could never be duplicated. It also couldn’t be forgotten. It was tempting enough to wonder what would even happen during a second night, much less actually consider it.

  “I should go,” she said.

  “Don’t sign anything without having someone read it over first.”

  Lola suppressed a smile. “So that’s why you called. To hound me about a lawyer?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “No. Not really. Your voice—I missed it. Has anyone ever told you how comforting it can be?”

  He’d spoken it softly, as if it were their private secret. They had enough secrets, though. Having breakfast in bed—it felt like a secret. Her willingly opening her legs to him? Secret. They were things that couldn’t leave the presidential suite. And this conversation needed to end before it went any further. “Beau—”

  “I wish you were here now to whisper to me.”

  Lola looked over her shoulder again. She remembered him whispering to her, not the other way around. Telling her how it felt to be inside her, how tight and hot and wet she was. Her heart clenched longingly. With Beau, it didn’t take much to draw her in.

  “What…what would you have me say?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t have you say anything. What fun is that? I’d want you to say whatever comes to you.”

  That ache returned between her legs—or maybe it’d never left. It still hadn’t been taken care of. “‘Goodbye, Beau.’ That’s what comes to me.”

  “I won’t stop until I get the answer I want,” he warned. “Talk to him.”

  She shook her head, ended the call and looked around the courtyard. The complex was muted by dusk. Beau’s voice was more intense on the phone. Bolder. Huskier. He’d said “whisper to me” suggestively, with promise, as if he knew she would be doing it soon.