Page 4 of Going Deep
“I hate you,” Ginger decided.
Lola laughed again. “Come on in. Simon’s still at work, so I’m currently between bangs.”
Ginger followed Lola into the open space. The apartment had the same basic layout as the one she inhabited across the hall, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Ginger’s cousin had gone with an ultra-modern look for his place, with polished concrete floors, white walls, and sleek leather furniture, Lola had gone for warmth. The floors were covered in rich hardwoods and colorful rugs, and while her furniture would never be considered traditional, the bold colors and bright accents gave the rooms a sense of style without compromising comfort. Even with all the open space, it was cozy.
Lola settled in a corner of the red sofa, tucking her bare feet under her. Dressed in leggings and an oversized t-shirt, her face was scrubbed clean and her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a short, stubby tail. Diamonds flashed at her ears, and her fingernails were still painted the bold pink she’d worn for the wedding..
Ginger sat on the other end of the sofa. “I take it things are good?”
Lola’s smile was bright, satisfied, and just a little smug. “Things are very good.”
“Then I can stop feeling guilty about letting Michael waylay me at the wedding so Simon could drag you off?”
“You are absolved, my child,” Lola intoned soberly, then raised a finger. “But absolution requires penance.”
Amused, Ginger pulled her feet up to mimic Lola’s pose. “Can I recite The Miller’s Tale instead of the rosary?”
Lola’s whiskey-brown eyes went wide. “You can recite The Miller’s Tale?”
“Most of it. Sometimes I fumble the middle bits,” Ginger confessed. “But since most people don’t understand Middle English, I just make something up and keep it rolling.”
“How about you just give me the dish on what happened between you and Michael at the wedding and we’ll call it even?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Ginger picked an invisible speck of lint off the knee of her jeans. “Nothing happened.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you were making coy, flirty, sex eyes at him the whole time we were there.”
“How would you know?” Ginger demanded. “You were too busy making up with Simon to notice anything that wasn’t his tongue in your mouth.”
“It’s called multi-tasking,” Lola said archly.
“It’s called being a busybody,” Ginger muttered, and winced. “Was I that obvious?”
“No,” Lola conceded. “But if I noticed it , you can bet your fine ass he did.”
Ginger tried to feign nonchalance. “Oh?”
“Like that idea, do you?”
Ginger thought about playing it coy, then figured, what the hell. “You’ve seen him, right?”
“Oh, yeah, he’s hot. And kinky,” Lola reminded her with a raised eyebrow. “Which you have claimed not to be.”
“I have,” Ginger agreed, then cleared her throat. “However, upon further reflection…”
Lola snickered.
Ginger scowled. “You know, I can just wait for Anna to come back from her honeymoon and talk to her if you’re going to be smug.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Lola schooled her expression into neutral lines. “You were saying?”
Ginger just sighed. “I think I’m submissive, okay?”
Lola’s eyes went round with feigned shock. “What? That is brand new information!”
“Oh, shut up,” Ginger muttered and refused—absolutely refused—to smile. “I don’t want anyone sticking needles in me—no offense.”
Lola just laughed, well used to the fact that her specific kink tended to freak people out. “None taken.”
