“For what?” I asked, and carefully slid around so it was me on my side and I was able to see him better.
He lifted his head, and his eyebrows flew high. “You’re for real right now? God, sweetheart, I forget sometimes what I’m dealing with.”
Irritation made my belly hot and I kicked at him. He let out a chuckle. “I’m not… I mean, I’m not a thing to deal with.” The way he had said that struck me wrong, and he must have realized it because he grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Course you’re not.” He laughed lightly. “You’re just a study in what I could have been, and sometimes I forget there was ever a part of me who was a soft touch like you.”
I scowled at him.
He giggled. “Don’t pout.”
“This isn’t a pout.”
He rolled his eyes again, and this time snorted for good measure, though it wasn’t the type of thing our father—fuck, I don’t want to be thinking about King—tended to do. The sound was more delicate, almost refined in comparison.
“You are the softest touch, but that’s okay.”
Forcing myself to relax, I took a deep breath. “You were talking about lots of money. What could we have done to make a ton of money?”
He cleared his throat. “Sell our virginity! Fresh twin ass!” he said in a falsetto. He was mocking me, and I got that, because he thought I was too laidback. Heat flashed from inside me and burned in my cheeks.
“That’s… that’s… uh….” Flustered, I glanced away.
He snickered. “A ship that has firmly sailed? Yes, of course. Besides, Rourke would have a fit if I took clients again. I mean, he acts all tough, and I don’t want to anyway.” He nudged my arm, like I was about to argue. “But facts are facts. We’re neither one of us getting the dough for anything like that.” He shook his head at me.
“I could.”
Forrest’s mouth parted, and at first I thought he was being funny again. A soft clicking sound came from his throat and spilled out from the roundOparting his lips, like he couldn’t get air into his lungs. He coughed and the moment passed, but he sank down to stare too close into my eyes, the green in his sparkling with too much entertainment. “No,” he whispered.
Shrugging, I rolled away from him to face the wall and wished I hadn’t opened my big fat mouth, but he did that to me. I trusted him, and I really shouldn’t because it’s not like I knew him very well. Now I wanted to pretend to be a pill bug and curl up and never come out again. He grabbed my shoulder, and I fought him, sort of, but he managed to roll me onto my back. I closed my eyes while my face continued to boil.
“This can’t stand.”
“I’m pretty sure it has for twenty-five years.”
“Stood alone, you mean?” He snickered, and I bit the corner of my lip.
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the center of attention,” I grumbled. “There’s never been a good… candidate.”
“Look at me,” he whispered and then burst into another round of titters.
Carefully I cracked my eyes until I could see his pink lips, still smiling, and then blinked until the rest of his face came into focus. He wasn’t being mean, and he wasn’t really making fun of me, like the guys downstairs would—without even a second thought.
“We’re going to fix this.”
“Fix?” Horror ran through me and I tried to scoot back from him. “No, I mean, how?”
He sat up onto his knees on the bed and let out a huff that was fueled by exasperation and another chuckle fit. “You know where we’re going?”
“To your place.”
“In the Exotic Virtue. Best little whorehouse in New York City, if I do say so myself.”
For some reason, me shaking my head frantically only made him smile wider. “No. I’m going to start quoting Forrest Gump at you to make you go away.”
“Won’t work, honey britches.” He grabbed my hand. “I know people.”
“No.”
