“My father works at the company.” She snatches her keys from the hook hanging on the wall.
“Works at the company … or owns the company?” I’m uncertain why this thought creeps into my mind. Maybe because there’s no way an entry-level employee could afford this home and the car sitting in the driveway.
“Um … owns.”
“What company?”
“It’s 21st Amendment.”
“The alcohol distribution company?”
“The one and only.”
Impressive.
Anyone involved in the liquor business knows 21st Amendment is one of the best you can go with. They supply alcohol for the biggest clubs, liquor stores, and bars in the state.
“What do you do there?”
“Sales.”
I smile, mentally picturing her showing off her products. Hell, if she came to Luna Bar and I oversaw orders, I’d purchase whatever she told me to.
She sighs. “You ready to play the lying game?”
“Definitely, but we need to get our stories straight on the way. It’s necessary to know how evil my date is.”
She holds up a finger. “Fake date.”
“Fake date.” I nod.
We leave her house, silently walking side by side, and her heels make a click-click against the pavement. She doesn’t argue about me driving. The sweet smell of her perfume overtakes the evergreen air freshener hanging from my rearview mirror.
I plug the address into my GPS and hit her with questions as soon as I shift the car into drive. “Favorite food?”
Lola buckles her seat belt and relaxes into the seat. “This is a business party. Why do you need to know my favorite food?”
“What if I’m asked personal questions?” I tap my fingers along the steering wheel. “You want me to tell them I only fuck you on the regular but know nothing about you?”
She shrugs. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“Cool.” I turn at a light and merge with traffic. “I can’t wait to tell your father that.” I cast a quick glance at her, raising a brow. “Should I go into explicit detail … try to sell him on the idea that I fuck your brains out?”
“Funny.” She stretches out her legs and moves her head side to side as if stretching it too. “Um … you can say hummus if you’re asked?”
“Bullshit. No one’s favorite food is fucking hummus. Try again, Satan. I’d have pictured your response to be more along the lines of the broken hearts of men or the poisonous apple given to Adam.”
She crosses her arms, unaware that it accentuates her cleavage, and I lick my lips. “I’ll retract that statement and say it’s your head if you keep talking shit because I’m going to bite it off.”
“Kinky … I like it.”
She snorts. “If you say hummus, my father will believe you.”
“If I say hummus, your father will never believe I’ve wined and dined you, making me a shit boyfriend. Now, hit me with something believable.” I’m not about to pretend to be a bad boyfriend. I want to be the best damn fake boyfriend ever.
“Strawberry cheesecake.”
“That’s more like it.”
“Glad my favorite food is now more to your liking.” Her response bleeds sarcasm.
As much as I want to pay her a glance, I keep my eyes on the road. Responsible driver over here. “You going to ask what mine is?”
“Nope. I figured I’d make it up as we went.”
“So … if someone asks you that, what will you say?”
“Hummus,” she quips with no delay.
“Oh, fuck off,” I say around a laugh.
She returns the laugh while pulling a tube of lipstick from her Louis Vuitton bag. “You asked.”
“All right, all right. Favorite sex position.” I hope she doesn’t shove my face into the steering wheel for that question, but messing with her is fun. A pretend boyfriend doesn’t need to know that tidbit of information.
She doesn’t shove my face into the steering wheel, but she does push my shoulder. “None of your business.”
“Ah, that’s my favorite too. It really hits the G-spot. Girls crave it.”
Pulling down the visor, she refreshes her lipstick and smacks her lips together when she’s finished. “You wouldn’t know what a G-spot was if it smacked you in the face.”
“Your type of man?”
“One who doesn’t talk as much as you.”
“Hey now.” I reach out and tap her thigh. “Be nice to the guy doing you a favor. Otherwise, we can call Callum. You two can make up, and I’ll drive home.”
“Ugh, fine,” she groans. “I will provide all the intel you need to my life. I’m just nervous to see him.”
“You still have feelings for him?” I frown, hating the idea of that.
“No, I’m nervous because I want to kick him in the balls, and my father would kill me for assaulting one of his employees.” She sighs and stares straight ahead. “And for some reason, I want to know why he cheated.”
She’s nearing the line of vulnerability with me, and I don’t want to run for the hills. I want to drag more of it out of her.
“He did it because he’s a cheating bastard who can’t keep it in his pants,” I state matter-of-factly. “It had everything to do with him and nothing to do with you.”
She sends me a skeptical glance. “How are you so certain?”
I grip the steering wheel. “Because any man in his right mind would be stupid to betray your trust, to play a dangerous game that’d leave him without you. Callum is an idiot. That’s why he did what he did. Sometimes, it takes men losing something to realize they made a mistake.”
She stares at me, impressed. “Look at you, all wise guy. Who would’ve thought you could come up with something like that?”
“That’s why we’re playing the get to know you game, Name Swapper. You’ll find out I’m cool as hell and a better man than the one who played you.”
“Shockingly, I’m starting to like this Silas you’re giving me.”
I grin at the compliment as if it were the equivalent of hitting the lottery. “Wait until I play the boyfriend role. You’ll fucking love me.”
Valet parking is a bonus we don’t talk about enough. Probably because it’s always a lazy and unnecessary perk. You don’t have to search for a spot or walk whatever distance to your destination.
A kid I went to school with argued with a man over a parking spot once. The fight escalated, and my classmate shot the man. He’s now serving time for attempted murder. Not only did he lose his spot but his dinner reservation was also canceled.
He sacrificed freedom and a filet over a parking spot.
Fucking idiot.
I toss my keys to the valet and dash to Lola’s side to beat the valet from opening her door. Tonight’s job is to be the chivalrous and well-mannered boyfriend. She stands, running her hands down her dress, and I hold my elbow toward her. She peers at me in surprise before slipping her arm around it, and we walk into the century-old building.
Tonight’s event is being held at Lady Emporium, a deserted library that the state had planned to tear down until a developer stepped in and purchased the rickety building. He remodeled, loaded cash into it, and now, people pay top dollar to hold their parties, weddings, and proms there.