Need You Tonight (20 page)

I scroll through my texts, finding absolutely nothing from Brooklyn. With a frown, I go through my voicemail and missed calls. Nothing.

Cole ambles into my room, holding his phone over his head. “Signal isn’t worth shit out here. Yours any better?”

“We have the same carrier,” I say on a yawn. “I’m going to call Brooklyn on the landline.”

“So, you and her, huh?”

“Yep.” I scratch my chest and sit up. “What’s the food situation?”

“Healthy shit you like.”

“I’m in the mood for wings and beer. Care to join me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Ten minutes later, we’re dressed and headed out the door.

“You’re not staying for supper?” Ford asks.

“Nope,” we simultaneously answer.

I hear my mother sigh. “Will you be back soon?”

“Maybe.”

“Guys,” Ford says with an edge of warning in his voice. “You will respect your mother, especially in her own house.”

We turn, striding back to the living room. Cole is first to hug her, and he stiffens when she hugs him back. “Have fun, but be careful.”

I kiss her cheek. “We won’t be too late.”

“You’re grown men. What kind of say do I have in your comings or goings,” she says with a wink.

I look at Ford. He nods at the bottle on the counter.

“So, that’s what it’s like to have a mom like everyone else,” Cole says as we walk outside and get into the rental car. He drives us into town and finds the nearest bar with food, parking near the front.

Lighting a cigarette, he offers me one. “You look like you could use it.”

I take it and put it in my mouth, relishing the feel of it. “God, what I wouldn’t give for just one more last smoke.”

“I have a lighter.” He waves it around in the air, the flame glowing blue and orange.

“I have healthy lungs.” I throw the unlit cigarette in the trash. “Weren’t you supposed to have quit?”

“Last one,” he says, blowing out a smoke ring. “Or not. My nerves are shot to hell and back.”

“When are we leaving?”

“I’d drive our asses to the airport right this second if I thought Rae wouldn’t kick my ass.”

“She told you to come out here?”

“Yeah, said I needed to do it for me.”

“Huh.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “Brooklyn said the same thing.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.” He grinds the cigarette into the bottom of his boot and throws it away. “When do I get to meet her?”

I shrug. “At the wedding.”

“When’s West getting married?”

“No idea.”

“You’re not helping him plan it?”

I flip him off, and he opens the door. We walk inside, grab two barstools, and order a round of beer and wings.

“It’s not his wedding,” I say.

“Then whose?”

“Mine.”

Cole chokes on his beer, and I slap him on the back a couple of times. “Don’t pull shit like that on me.”

“I’m not pulling anything.” But I am enjoying this. It’s not often I can get one over on him.

“But you’ve know each other for—”

“Twenty-four days.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Says the man who proposed to a woman he hadn’t seen in months,” I point out.

“That was different.”

I take a drink of my beer. “Yeah, you were also broken up with her at the time.”

“I’ll admit that you have very good points, but—”

“There are no buts. Brooklyn is the one for me, and when I get back from this lovely family reunion, I’m going to marry her.”

“Does she know this?”

“No, I thought I would surprise her with a wedding she knows nothing about,” I deadpan.

Suddenly, Cole cracks a smile. “You’re on television.”

“What?”

He points with his bottle. “Right up there. I’d recognize you anywhere. What the hell?”

I turn in time to read the bottom of the screen as the words scroll past. “Escort Agency. Scandal.” And then there’s me, leading Mrs. Groves to the elevator where she gets down on her knees in front of me. “Fuck.”

“Care to explain?” Cole asks.

“Not really.” I fumble for my phone and call Brooklyn.

“She doesn’t know?”

“Not all of it.”

“All of it?”

“Not now, Cole.” My call goes to voicemail. “Fuck.”

“How long?” he asks, his jaw hard.

“I don’t do it anymore.”

“But you used to. That video was of you, and it was recent.”

“Yeah, it was me, but the date’s wrong,” I glance around the bar to see if anyone’s staring at me, but they’re not. Yet. “Can we get out of here?”

I pay the bar tab and head outside with Cole trailing behind me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No.” I open the door and fold myself into the seat of the sports car Cole had thought would be awesome to rent.

“Were you in trouble?” he asks, once he’s seated.

“No.”

“Dammit, Parker. Talk to me. I want to know what the hell possessed you to do…
that
.”

“Whore myself out?” I supply.

“Don’t you fucking call yourself that,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Don’t you ever fucking call yourself that.”

“I needed the money.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you. I fucking raised you.”

“We needed the money. Crystal needed the money.” Cole hits the gas pedal so hard that I brace my hands against the dash.

“Slow the fuck down,” I shout at him.

“Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t you tell me…I can’t believe she made you do it.”

“Cole—”

“Was it her pimps or suppliers?”

“Cole,” I say louder, but he’s not listening.

“Maybe her rehab. She loved going to those places—no whiny kids to deal with. No worrying about feeding or buying them clothes, because you’re too fucking high to care while you detox.”

“I did it because I fucking loved it,” I roar. “I did it to pay off our bills, our rent, and whatever else came up, like food or when Kelly needed shoes.”

“What did you say?”

“I was fifteen and loved the fucking money.” The car swerves, and I jam my feet against the floorboards. “It felt good to earn it, not to worry about money anymore. But it wasn’t until Crystal overdosed the first time that I started doing more, and I had to keep doing more, even when I didn’t want to. The bills kept coming in and we had Kelly. So, I upped my game, gave the women what they wanted and—”

“Jesus,” he breathes. “I do not need to hear this.”

“Yeah, well maybe you
should
hear this. Because, not once did you ever question how I made the extra money. Not once.” I shake my head, the anger I’d always kept under control finally breaking free. “You always assumed I was with West or picked up an extra shift somewhere. Even when I had scratches on my body you never questioned it, because I’m the one who was so fucking sweet. I’m the Morgan boy who everybody loves, the one who always does the right thing even if it’s killing him inside.”

“I’m sorry that the words
do you fuck women for money
never came out of my mouth,” he growls. “But I was too busy working my own ass off at the time to think of it.” He punches the steering wheel. “Damn it, Parker. Why didn’t you come to me? I would have done more. I would have done anything so you didn’t have to.”

“I did what I had to do in order to survive,” I say simply. “We both did.”

“But that video was recent.”

“And I did what I had to do so that I would never,
ever
be put in that position again. I saved up a lot, hardly spent anything… I’m good for a while.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah.” I relax into the seat a little.

“I don’t mean discussing this. I mean with the… you know.”

“I know what you meant.”

“And Brooklyn knows?”

“Most of it, but I have no idea what it will do to her to see me on television like that. Or what that video could do to you and Rae.”

“Still love you,” he says. “Don’t care what you do—what you used to do. Still love you.”

I clear my throat a couple of times, rubbing my eyes a little. “Love you too, bro.”

“We’ll get through this,” he says, but as I call Brooklyn again and immediately get sent to voicemail, I start to question if he’s right.

Cole drops me off at my house, and I grab my suitcase, throw it in the back of my truck and drive to Brooklyn’s. It’s Saturday morning, so she should be home.

Brooklyn’s SUV is parked in her usual spot, and I pull in behind it. For a minute, I sit there, collecting my thoughts as I try to calm down, but I’m nervous as shit and terrified as hell she won’t answer the door.

Finally, I get out and walk to the front porch, knocking on the front door. Brooklyn opens it. “Come inside.”

Taken aback by her invitation, I stand there for a couple of seconds. I had expected screaming, shouting, or angry accusations when she opened the door, but all I get is polite southern girl.

Somehow this is worse. Her non-reaction is worse.

“How was your trip?” she asks.

“What I thought it would be—my mother playing the constant victim, Ford sort of defending her, and then we discover the real reason for her problems.” I run a hand through my hair. “Honestly, it was exhausting.”

She sits down on the sofa in the living room. “Sounds like it.”

“Your phone working okay? I called and texted you, but you didn’t respond.”

Her face pales. “I didn’t know what to say.”

At least she’s honest. Sitting down beside her, I reach for her hand. She doesn’t pull away, and I press a kiss to the knuckles. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” she says, but her softly spoken words ring hollow in my ear.

“Ask me.”

She shakes her head. “Tell me.”

“That was me in the video.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “You lied to me. You said…you said that you were fifteen and did it to help your family out. But that video was recent, not years old, and showed you with another woman, with her going down on you in a elevator and you looked into it, into her. There are more videos online—one’s they can’t share on television with other people who work at that agency in them. Some guy went undercover to find out if the rumors were true. They’re saying all these rich and powerful people are involved.”

She swallows. “I watched all the videos, because I wanted to prove to myself that I was wrong. Instead, I got to watch you kiss some random woman on the neck with your hand up her dress.”

My gaze drops to the ground. I can’t defend this, because it all happened. “Told you I was a whore.”

“Shut up.”

I jerk my gaze to hers. “What?”

“Shut up. You don’t get to come into my house and play the poor pitiful me card.” Anger blazes in her pretty eyes. “I let you into my life, my body, and my heart, and you didn’t have the decency to clarify my misconception. You didn’t have the decency to tell me the truth—that you were still in the business, an escort—whatever you call it—while you were with me.”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t. I quit the day before I met you. The date was wrong.”

“How do I know that’s the truth? You
lied
to me, Parker. Even when you had the chance to tell me the entire truth, you chose to lie.” She pulls her hand out of mine. “Do you know how stupid I felt, how betrayed… and scared out of my mind, because if you lied about that, then you could have lied to me about everything else. I had to go to a clinic and get tested. Me, Brooklyn Reeves, a woman who before you, only had sex with her husband. Ever. And now, I have to spend the entire weekend waiting on the results,” she cries.

“I promise you’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise. I don’t fucking have anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” she says and her voice cracks. “I don’t believe anything about you. You’re a liar, Parker Morgan, and I deserve better than that.”