Page 59 of Cherry Beats

“Like hell I’m going to talk to you.”

“It’s in your interests. I assure you.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“Because if you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to have a good enough reason to stop Trey from fucking information about you out of that girlfriend of yours, and who knows what she’ll say after two bottles of champagne in the midst of an orgasm? Rumour has it that she isn’t exactly shy about telling people her whole life story. I heard you’re an intricate part of that life, too.”

Blood pounded in my head, heating my whole body with burning rage at once. My arms and hands shook as I yanked open the storeroom door and ran out into the bar to stop Molly from leaving with that rat bastard, but I was too late. Their table sat empty, leaving me with a phone pressed to my ear, and my face turning drip white.

“Go back into the storeroom, Tess,” Janey said calmly in my ear.

“Are you watching me?” I hissed, looking all around the bar to try and see where she was.

“I’m a journalist. I have eyes everywhere. And no, you’ll never know where those eyes are, so get in the storeroom and let’s talk like two sensible adults.”

“This is harassment.”

“Prove it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“We both know I won’t be the one getting fucked tonight if you don’t do what I say. That’ll be your best friend.”

Sweat formed in my palms and on my forehead as I spun in a panic, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. In the end, I did as I was told. The door closed behind me again, and I ground my teeth together, waiting to hear her speak.

“You shouldn’t keep such easy company, Miss Lisbon. It makes it far too easy for me to send moles in and get the information you refuse to offer up so freely.”

The noise I made was feral. “Does the venom in your veins sting a little?”

“Only when it doesn’t get what it wants.”

“Whatdoyou want?”

“What all good reporters want: the truth. And let’s save the made-up stories for another day when I have time. I know who was in your apartment last night. I saw the infamous jacket over your sofa. So, let me just cut straight to the chase: are you fucking Presley West, Tess?”

“Not right now.”

She huffed out a humourless laugh, and I could practically see the way she leaned back in her chair as the leather creaked, and the way she planted her fake heels on her desktop as they clinked together with perfect Sharon Stone,Basic Instinctprecision.

“I don’t like being lied to.”

“Take your daddy issues up with your parents, Janey. I have nothing to say to you.”

“You’re sounding awfully defensive for someone who is lying through their teeth. I only want to know what your relationship with Presley is.”

“I’ve already told you.”

“You’ve told me lies. I need more than that. I need your honesty.”

“Why? Do you want him for yourself? Here’s a little insider info. Presley doesn’t like cheap.”

“Yet the minute he’s in trouble, he flees to the grotty little apartment with the working-class barmaid living inside it. Seems to me like cheap is exactly what Presley West likes.”

My hands shook violently, and I couldn’t ignore that her words rang true in my jaded mind, leaving me temporarily speechless.

“It doesn’t make sense, does it?” she asked with sarcasm. “What hold have you got over him, Tessa? Did he knock you up once and make you get rid of the baby?”

“Is that the best you can come up with?”

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