Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2) (2 page)

“Right. After that?”

“I think we should stop there.”

“Oh.” He bobbed his head slowly. “All right. If that’s what you want.”

Lola did want to tell him, because only he would understand why their next stop had been so strange. That Beau had taken her to a strip club at all was unusual—but that it’d been the same one she’d worked at? If she mentioned it, Johnny would ask why they went there. He’d want to know if she’d danced for him. Cat Shoppe was a sore topic for Johnny, who’d risked their relationship to get her out of there.

“It’s what I want,” she said, returning her time with Beau into the vault where it belonged.

He looked around the room. She drank more coffee.

“I checked while you were in the shower. The other half of the money still isn’t deposited.”

“It’s the weekend,” she said.

“Right, but it would still show as pending. What if he doesn’t pay?”

“He will. I trust—”

Johnny looked at the floor. He didn’t blink for so long, she thought she should explain. Not that she trusted Beau himself, but that she trusted him to pay. She hadn’t meant anything by it.

He put his hand around her ankle and smiled a little. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“So am I,” she said. “But I’m exhausted. I didn’t get much…I just think I should lie down.”

“I get it,” he said, releasing her foot.

She crawled over the couch and kissed his cheek. “Good morning,” she said.

“Good night,” he said back.

* * * * *

Lola had shut the bedroom windows. The California sun could be too much at times. Regardless, when she opened her eyes, daylight sliced straight lines through the shutters.

Beau would be—what? Working? Sleeping her off? She had no idea, because she didn’t know him. That was something she’d have to learn to live with, just like the ache between her legs he’d given her. It throbbed for attention, but she refused to take care of it. She couldn’t do it without thinking of Beau, and thinking of Beau now when the entire experience was supposed to be over was unfair to Johnny. The idea of Johnny doing it for her made her stomach cramp.

She reached over the side of the bed and took her phone from her purse. Beau had turned it off. She waited for it to start up, then read the text message Johnny had written barely an hour after she’d left the apartment.

This doesn’t feel right. Ask him what happens if we change our minds.

A lump formed in her throat. She put the phone back, took it out again and erased the message. She never wanted to read it again.

She stood from the bed and called out for Johnny, surprised he hadn’t woken her since they should’ve left for work already. There was a note on the kitchen table that he’d given her the night off. Underneath, next to a large, scribbled dollar sign was
We’re millionaires
.

It was something to celebrate, but she was in too strange of a mood, stuck somewhere between elation and devastation, asleep and awake, Beau and Johnny. It was her first moment completely alone since before Beau had picked her up.

They had their money. Their dream future would soon be a reality. It’d been fun to consider her options, like doing something other than Hey Joe, but now it was final. Why else would she have sold herself if not because she wanted this too? It was hard to stomach the idea that she’d done it all for Johnny like Beau had suggested.
Sacrifice
was the word he’d used—she couldn’t
sacrifice
herself for someone else’s happiness.

Lola found leftovers in the fridge, ate them with her beer and went back to bed. If Beau was right, she’d been sacrificing herself for a long time. Some part of her had always felt she’d owed Johnny that for taking a chance on her years ago. Now she wondered if that debt would ever feel paid.

Chapter Two

Lola and Johnny’s one-bedroom apartment didn’t have much space, so the kitchen became their office. Because Johnny had given Lola the night off work to sleep, she woke up earlier than normal on Sunday. She ran out for donuts, made fresh coffee and got to work.

On their dining table, Lola’s laptop screen was crowded with information about buying an existing business. When Johnny walked in, she looked up from the notepad she’d been taking notes on.

“Morning,” he said, tossing a football in his hand. “You were up early.”

She glanced at the football. “What’s that for?”

“Game today.”

Lola set down her pen. “We’re not going to the picnic. We have too much to do.”

“I thought we were doing all this tomorrow.”

“We are. Today and tomorrow.” She gestured at the donuts. “Look, I got all your favorites. They even have the custard filling I never let you get. I’m not above bribery.”

He picked one up and bit into it. Multi-colored sprinkles fell onto the table. “But we don’t have the details yet,” he said, chewing. “We won’t until we sit down with Mitch.”

“I know, but I want to be prepared
before
we sit down with Mitch. I think we should go in with a plan. Did you know it can take months to transfer a liquor license? We should get started on that now.”

“Now—as in right now? Can’t it wait until after the game?”

“Six hundred thousand is a little high for a bar on Sunset Boulevard,” she continued, ignoring him, “especially one that’s struggling like we are. But that’s the number Mitch gave me. I think he’s factoring in the worth of the brand. We’ll have a lot of expenses off the bat too, including the food and liquor licenses. I figure that leaves us with around three hundred grand.”

“That’s a good cushion,” he said, leaning his hands on the back of a chair.

She shook her head. “It’s not a cushion, Johnny. If we’re doing this, we have to do it right—like renovations to the kitchen that’s been out of use for decades. You said you wanted to serve food, so we’ll have to go through a health inspection.”

Johnny brushed off his hands on his pants. “Sounds like you got this covered.”

“I don’t,” she said. “You know more about running a bar because you love it. I’d rather focus on advertising and marketing, and I’d like a decent budget for that since we’re trying to generate new foot traffic.”

Johnny set the football on the table. “All right. I see where you’re coming from. But I won’t be any good to you now. My head’s already in the game. So I’ll tell you what—why don’t we go down to the park, play some football, eat some lunch and chill a little bit. Then tonight I’ll tell Mitch neither of us are coming in. That gives us tonight and all day tomorrow.”

“We can’t just take the night off like that.”

“Why not? Not like we’re desperate for the money anymore.”

“Johnny, you’re not hearing me. We need every last cent. I don’t want to nag you, but you’ve got to take this seriously. Running a business is not about doing what you want. It’s about buckling down and doing whatever it takes, even on the weekends. It’s late hours and waking up earlier.” She looked over at the clock. “You can’t be sleeping until eleven anymore.”

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.