Dair (The Wild Side #3)(14)

—Were they lovers?  She’d said he didn’t hurt her, but it was a fact that she had no problem lying about any damn thing.

Still, I didn’t think they were, but whether that belief stemmed from anything logical, or merely a strong desire to believe it because the alternative was unpalatable to me, well, that was anyone’s guess.

“You need to turn this mess into a book,” Turner told me.

It was about a week later, and I was at his house, venting again.

I’d told him all of it, every insane detail of that crazy ride, from the abduction to the ether.

Needless to say, he was intrigued.

“Not happening.”

“I’m using it, then.  It’s just too crazy not to write down.”

“Hell no.  No way.”

“Okay, okay, but listen, someday this is not going to be such a touchy subject, and when that day comes, it will be a long time from now, and the details will be fuzzy, so at least jot it down in your diary or something while it’s still fresh.”

“I don’t have a diary.  Do you actually have a diary?”

“Well, no.  I’m just saying, write it down somewhere.  You don’t have to publish it.”

Needing a distraction, I changed the subject.  “What happened to Candy?  I had to let myself in.”

“Please.  Like that’s unusual.  That chick didn’t answer the door once the entire time she worked here.  And she quit.”

That had me raising my brows.  “Oh yeah?  How come?”

He gave me a knowing look.  “I’ve told you about this.  Same reason they always do.  She wanted to f**k the boss.”

“And did you oblige her?”

“I did.”

“Well?”

He shrugged.  “It was fine.  I mean, it was good, but, and trust me I know I’m a bastard for saying this, I think she exaggerated her own oral skills.  I watched that chick suck on lollipops for months like she was fixated.  It built up some unrealistic expectations.”

“What about the rest?”

“Good.  She was fine.  I kept her around for three days before it got a bit redundant.  I don’t know.  I think it’s me.  I’ve been bored lately, or hell, maybe I’m just bored with redheads.  I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“I think you’re growing up, Peter Pan, and that maybe, just maybe, you need to start looking to get involved with a woman for more than sex.”

He shrugged.  “That’s so typical.  And boring.  I like to think I’m more interesting than that.  I’ll tell you one thing, though, I’m not hiring any more dimes for the assistant gig.  I’m finding someone that will actually help me with the work around here, someone that won’t quit after I spend three months training them.”

“Sounds like a worthy goal.  Maybe you’ll progress to finding someone that just quits because they hate working for you.”

He threw back his head and laughed.  “That would be refreshing,” he added, when he’d caught his breath again.

“What do you need an assistant for, anyway?”

Turner shook his head at me like I was missing something important.  “You get to pull the reclusive author bit, doing a few interviews, what, like, once, twice a year?  No Facebook presence.  No Twitter account.  Hell, you probably don’t even know what Instagram is.”

I did, but only because I’d heard him and Candy talking about it several times, and as far as I knew, it was just a place where women went to post cle**age shots (and men went to look at said shots).

He rolled his eyes at my look.  “What I’m saying is, in the writing world, there are only a few that get to do it like Alasdair Fucking Masters.”

I just continued to stare at him.

He shook his head at me again, as though I was a lost cause.  “It works for you, but some of us have to promote.  That means on top of writing books, there’s a few extra full-time jobs that may or may not get done, and this may or may not tank a new release if we don’t have some help.”

Finally, it made some sense, though he still didn’t.  “So there’s actually work to be done, and you still keep hiring people that aren’t doing any of it?”

“Not anymore.  I swear it.  Candy was the last one.  But enough about me.  What’s the word on Lourdes?  You going out with her again?”

I flushed.  I didn’t like his wording.  “We went out for coffee.  As friends.  We did not go out.”

He shrugged.  “Well, she’s smokin’.  A dime for sure.  I think she could be a body double for Nicole Scherzinger.  And maybe you should ask her out.  Why the f**k not?  One big selling point: I can guarantee she won’t rag tap you post coital.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked her out,” I mused, thinking about it.  I knew she’d photographed headshots for him at least once, so they knew each other, and a girl like Lourdes was straight playboy catnip to a guy like Turner.

He flushed, shifting.  It took me a moment to place the look on his face, because I’d never actually seen it before.