“He didn’t ask for sex?” I question warily after I get the lowdown on tonight’s “date.” “Really?” They always ask for sex, although some don’t go through with it in the end.
“It happens sometimes, just not a lot.” Nyjah shrugs, kicking his feet up on the desk, His jeans are frayed and his shirt’s unbutton, revealing his colorful, detailed, tattoos covering his chest. There’s always been one in particular that’s caught my attention—one on his neck. It looks like a family crest, a triangle with a strange symbol inside that looks like the roman numeral ten. Back home a lot of people I know have tattoos of their family crests, but I haven’t seen any since I left Boston. When I asked Nyjah, he said it had to do with his past and his mother, but didn’t go into details. Afterward, I’d done a search on their last name—Peirton—just to make sure they weren’t mobster.
“It still seems a little weird,” I tell him, picking at my fiery red nail polish. I’m in my nighttime attire, my earrings in place now, lining up the lobe, like silver and diamond artwork along with a few studs on my eyebrows. My black hair is down and wildly wavy, my lips are stained red, my eyes like smoke, and I have a dress on that barely covers up my ass and boots that go up to my thighs. And strapped to my thigh, underneath my dress, is a gun
Nijah arches his brow as he lowers his feet to the floor and sits up in his chair. “Considering some of the fetishes mentioned by some of the clients we get in here, I’m a little puzzled why you’re acting so weird about this.”
I sigh and shake off the edge. “Sorry. I’m just having a… weird day.”
“Anything you want to talk about?” he asks with concern. “You know I’m here for you—always will be.”
I almost laugh since Danni said almost the exact same thing to me just a few hours earlier which makes me feel the slightest bit guilty. Like Mary and Danni, I think I’ve crossed a line with Nyjah too. But he’s a tough enough guy that I’m sure it won’t crush his heart when I take off—well, if I take off. It’s kind of in the air right now, depending on how the thing with the note goes and who wrote it.
“Nah, I just need to work past it, but thanks for the offer.” I give him the best smile I can muster.
It seems like he wants to say more, his crystal blue eyes boring into me. “Maybe you should take tonight off… Get some rest. We could hang out here. Order in some food. Whatever you want.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” My tone is playful because I know it’s not what he’s doing, at least that’s what I originally thought until he looks at me with a very intent, serious expression.
“If that’s what you want,” he says, maintaining my gaze. “Then yeah, we can do the whole date thing.”
“Nyjah, you don’t want to date me. Trust me. I’m not dating material.” And the idea of going out on a date makes me want to throw up. Yes, I have sex with men, but for money and the fact that it hollows me inside makes it possible. But actually going on a date with someone, setting myself up for some kind of romantic connection, makes me feel sick. I still haven’t gotten over Layton—not sure that I ever will—so dating isn’t an option.
“I know what you are, Lola—I know what I’m getting into.”
“No you don’t. Trust me.” I squirm uncomfortably in the chair. “If you did, you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
He shakes his head with aggravation. “You always think so lowly of yourself. Is that why you do it? Because you don’t think you deserve better.”
I’m getting irritated, even though I know I shouldn’t be. He only cares about me, but I’m not worthy of his sympathy—worthy of anything. “No, that’s not why I do it. I do it for the same reason everyone else around here does. Because I’m a slut who likes sex.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s not why everyone does it and you know it.”
“It’s why some do.”
“Yeah, but not you. I saw it in your eyes the day you walked in here. You’re carrying something dark inside you.”
I’m having a hard time breathing. “Nyjah, please drop it. I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to go do my job, which apparently is going to be real easy tonight since he doesn’t list wanting sex.”
“Yeah, but what if he does want sex?” he questions, searching my eyes for God knows what. “What if his weird answers to the questionnaire were simply because he didn’t want to admit what he was expecting?”
“Okay, then I’ll f**k him. Sex is nothing new, Nyjah.”
“Yeah, but you’re distracted today.”
I shrug. “Distracted or not, I can still be a great sex partner.”
He pauses, scratching at the back of his neck. I’m still in a little bit of shock about him asking me out. Yeah, he’s flirted with me a few times, but never acted on it. In a normal world, I’d be flattered, but this isn’t the normal world. This is Lola’s world, offspring of a very powerful, very dangerous drug lord.
“You know, my dad’s looking for help around the office again,” Nyjah says, lowering his hand onto his lap. “I know you said you weren’t interested the last time you offered, but thought maybe you’d changed your mind over the last couple of weeks.”
I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Do we really have to do this again? I already told you, I can’t take the job and I still feel the same way.”
“Is it because of the money?”
“Partly. But there’s more to it than that, again, something I’ve already told you.”
“Like what?”
I consider what to tell him, consider the real reason, consider what makes me do the things I do without feeling any sense of shame. “Look, can we just leave it at I have some issues and this… job helps me deal with those issues. Without it, I’d just have to think all the time and I don’t want to think.” I sigh. “Women can enjoy sex, you know.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He pauses, rubbing his hand over his shortly shaven hair. “And it doesn’t seem like you enjoy it whether you’ll admit it or not.”
“You know, if you really want to pick people’s minds, Nyjah, then you should consider a career in psychology,” I say, getting up from the chair. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a guy to go f**k.”