She set the file down and looked up. “So you agree he’s perfect.”
River needed more dramatic stage space than the desk could provide, so he slid off it and flung himself onto the sofa at the side of the room. “Yes. Fine. You win. I will take the All-American boy next door as my paid consort.”
Amanda dimpled. “Fantastic. I’ll finalize the paperwork.”
When Jemleft the Seventh Circle Management offices, Tori was outside, parked with the windows down and the driver’s seat pushed back as far as it would go, reading a tattered mass market with two kilted ladies on the cover.
Jem wouldn’t have done it. Even in a nice lot, with security, and even though it was the middle of the day, LA still made him nervous sometimes. You could take the boy out of South Carolina, but you couldn’t take South Carolina out of the boy. Which was ironic, maybe, because Jem doubted he’d feel safer in SC these days, with the little intersectional Pride stickeron his bumper and everything. But Tori had grown up here, and she refused to be influenced by Jem’s small-town sensibilities.
When he opened the door, she pushed her sunglasses down to look at him over the top. “So?”
Wordlessly, Jem pointed to the security booth, hoping the subtext was clear:Tori, I’m not going to break my nondisclosure agreement in the goddamn parking lot. The NDA had a bit of wiggle room, because he’d let Amanda know Tori had helped him set up his account, but he didn’t have to testhow much roomin full view of Seventh Circle Management employees.
Sighing, Tori started the car. Once they’d cleared the attendant booth and pulled onto the street, she demanded, “Now spill.”
“I mean. Obviously I got the job.”
“Yeah, duh, they don’t make you sign away your firstborn ’cause you didn’t.” She merged aggressively into traffic and then added, “Oh shit, maybe I shouldn’t joke about that anymore.”
Jem didn’t think it counted if he wasn’t the one doing the birthing, but what did he know?
“Anyway, tell me about your sugar daddy.Isit a daddy?”
Jem had a bizarre mental image of a bouquet of balloons, all in blue, one depicting a teddy bear in bondage gear, with the wordsIt’s a boy!“Yeah, Tori, it’s a guy.”
“Well?” she snapped impatiently. “Are you going to give me any details, or do I have to get out the pliers?”
“You could just let your driving do the work.”
Without looking, she reached over and slapped him on the back of the head. “Jem! Come on. You haven’t given me any good gossip inso long, and I amdying. Do you know what it’s like being a messy bitch who loves drama when you’re a happilymarried lesbian and you’re still friends with all your exes who are also all still friends with each other?”
“…Awesome?” Jem suggested dryly, because like hell was he going to pity her for beinghappily married.
“Okay, yes, but also, I need something juicier to sink my teeth into than middle-school gossip. Jem!”
He loved winding her up, but if he tormented her for too long, she’d give him a wet willy, because she was secretly the same age as her students. “Okay, all right, fine. What do you want to know?”
“You could start with his name.”
“It’s River.”
Tori took the exit off the highway. “River,” she repeated. “Does he have a last name, or is he like Prince?”
“Well, he’s notunlikePrince. They’re both musicians. River prefers red to purple, though, I think—”
“Jem.”
He grinned. “It’s Wild.”
The car lurched as Tori slammed on the brakes at a light. “River Wild. The guitarist of the Flat Tires, River Wild, is your sugar daddy.”
“Official as of like ten minutes ago.”
“River Wild—the guy with more hoops in his ears than a Cirque performance. Wearer of leather pants and eyeliner. Crowd surfs at every opportunity. Giant anarchist tattoo on his back.”
Apparently Tori was a fan. “He didn’t show me the tattoo,” Jem said.
“ThatRiver Wild,” Tori went on as she hit the gas so she could cut across two lanes of traffic, “hiredyou, Jem J. Anderson—a man who plays golf and wears oatmeal sweaters andteaches kindergarten—as his sugar baby.”
