What Lola Wants (London Dolls Book 1) (3 page)

She scrunched her face. “Harsh.”

“What makes you assume The London Dolls aren’t as artistic as your how-do-you-do ballet company?” He glanced at the time on his phone. If they hurried, they might catch his sister’s act. Now that would blow Lola’s mind, and she would understand the gist of striptease a little better. He hoped. “Keep up.”

“If you ask me, girls who strip could do so much better for themselves.” She scurried beside him, three tiny steps to one of his.

“But I
didn’t
ask. And burlesque dancers aren’t strippers.”

“I bet your fiancée would agree with me.”

He snickered. “Obviously you don’t know Bianca. Besides, how’d you even know I was engaged?”
Was
. That engagement had ended three months earlier.

“I heard you chatting wedding invites and such on the phone back at the flat. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re getting married.”

Never had he been so glad to see an ATM. “Cash machine,” he announced.

“So, when’s the big day?” She dug out a card and pushed it in the slot.

“Nosy poke.” He should explain that he had ended his engagement, but the pretense of an impending marriage seemed the safer option. Safest for his heart, anyway.

“I see you’re still good at avoiding answers.”

Don’t give her the satisfaction…

She continued, “Must be soon if you’re talking about cake.”

He cleared his throat. “Where’s Al? Am I to assume things aren’t so perfect in Wonderland?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Al is...we broke up.”

“And now it’s clear.”

“What is?” She typed in her pin number then hit enter.

“Why you’re back. You got kicked out of the company. I’m so sorry.”

She cleared her throat. “Not quite.”

“No?”

“I left Al over six months ago, and as for the company, I’m just taking a break because, well…because I needed a break.”

There was something she wasn’t telling him, and that pompous choreographer he’d heard stories about via Jane had to be at the center of it. Seemed he was the center of all her drama from what he’d heard secondhand. “I’m sorry, Lola.”

“Why? I’m still in the company.”

“I know dancing for the Royal Ballet was all you ever wanted, so I’m guessing whatever the reason is for your extended leave, it must be big to steal you away from the stage.”

“Perhaps I’ve grown, matured, and just needed time for myself?”

“Could it be? Lola Lone has realized dance isn’t the be-all, end-all?” Scenarios with ever-afters ran through his head. A sweet three-bedroom cottage with sea views and two and a half kids with Lola. They’d spend days on the beach as a family. Heck, he could even be happy in the city with Lola. They could move closer to the school where he taught, and, and…
Snap out of it. Stay clear of nonsensical dreams.

She turned to face him and paled.

“Lola?”

“It’s gone.”

“What?”

“All my money, it’s gone. That can’t be.” She began the process again, each hit of the buttons becoming more frantic. Leaning against the cash machine, she sniffled.

“I’m sure it’s a mistake.” He wrapped his hand around her arm.

“He took everything except fifty-six pence. He left me penniless,” she cried.

“He? He who? Al? Did Al do this?” His blood bubbled.

Shaking her head, she leaned into him. “It must have been Al. He…he…he had my pin number. Maybe? I can’t remember.”

“Why would Al do such a thing?”

“Because,” she said between rasped breaths, “he’s still in love with me. He writes me letters and sends flowers before each show.”

“And this makes him suspect number one because?”

“He follows me everywhere I go, turned all but one of the dancers against me, and pushed me from lead dancer to the background. He thinks if he pushes hard enough, I’ll go back to him. But I won’t. I bloody well won’t.”

“I’m guessing he’s the reason you came looking for Jane?”

She clutched her purse tight to her chest. “Yes.”

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he demanded, his hands fisting as he fought to stay calm.

“His behavior was concerning, so I approached the company director about him. Asked if there was a way to get him to back off and quit messing with my career. They decided, instead, that it was best
I
took a break. Me. Like it was all my fault.”

“And the police, what did they say?”

“They didn’t want the police involved. Bad press, etc.… I mean, it’s only been flowers and letters.” Her voice wavered as she spoke. “Until now. Until he decided to steal from me.”

“Exactly. Now that he’s gone this far, it’s a matter for the police, regardless.”

She nodded, hands trembling and lips quivering. “I know, but….”

“Don’t worry. Everything will work itself out, and you’re not alone in this.” He retrieved her card from the machine. “Come on, you need a drink. Then we’ll decide what to do.” He took her suitcase and bag, hooked his arm in hers, and guided her along the street. Light rain sprinkled from above, and lamplight glistened on the concrete pavement.

She glanced at him and offered a smile, though her eyes were teary.

Her rescuer.

So predictable.

Damn my kind heart.

Seeing her so hurt, so close to full-on sobbing, made him want to hunt the bastard down and kill him. Or, at the very least, shake him down for the money he’d taken from Lola and scare him off her for good. He strode them through the bustle of London nightlife, his head full of reasons why she hadn’t confided in him.

They arrived at The Doll House. Seemed mean to spring a surprise on her now, but then again, maybe the prank would distract her. Yes. She could be mad at him for a minute versus being scared of that dickhead Al.

She stared up at the glitzy sign. “So, this is where we’ll be grabbing drinks?”

“I happen to know a lot of people who work here.”

“A regular? I see.”

“Maybe bringing you here in this state was a bad idea.”

“Or in any state? But what the hell, we’re here now, and I need that drink.”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure.” Seeing his sister take burlesque center stage might be more than Lola could handle after the day she’d had. He scanned for another option. An Irish Pub across the way seemed viable until lads spilled out onto the street yelling out their favorite teams and singing game songs. Must be a footie match playing on the big screens behind the bar. Ugh. Well, maybe she’d prefer that over burlesque? “There’s a pub across the street. It’s a little crowded.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at the place, heaving with animals. I’d rather deal with strippers than lager louts. Besides, now I’m curious.”

“Are you sure?”

She glanced across the street then back at the glamour of The Doll House. “Sure, why not.”

“Come on, then, let’s get you that drink.”
And a side of shock.

Chapter Three

He held the door open for her.

“Empty pockets and my ex clearing me out wasn’t quite the way I imagined my time off. But, like hell I’m falling at the first obstacle,” she said out loud, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Take a deep breath.” He released the door and rubbed the small of her back, his gentle kindness giving her the will to keep focused. Hope burned a tad brighter. “He may have your bank account, but that doesn’t mean he knows where you are, or that he followed you to London.”

“But what if he has followed me here?”

“I’m sure he hasn’t. The missing money could simply be a bank error. Let’s not jump to conclusions yet, okay?”

Wiping her eyes, she pasted on a smile. “I hope to hell Jane can forgive me for not calling in four months because I’ll need a place to stay. Think she’ll have room for me?”

“We share a flat at the moment, but I guess it would be fine.” He paused then shrugged. “Just for a few days.”

“You share?”

He nodded. “Don’t start. I’m in between homes at the moment.”

“Yes, with the upcoming wedding I’d imagine so. So, do you reckon Jane’ll mind?”

“I’m sure she will love having you stay. Come on, let’s grab that drink and report the theft.” He opened the theatre door and ushered her inside.

The sweeping staircase with its gold handrail screamed decadence. Geometrical art deco lights fixed to the walls illuminated the red carpet with a soft glow.

Twirling on the spot, she absorbed the opulence.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “It’s like I’ve stepped back in time and won the lottery all in one breath.” She curtsied. “I’m home.”

“Not bad for a strip joint, is it?” He chortled. “Let’s leave your bags at the ticket office.” He grabbed her suitcase and travel bag and handed them to a short woman, who Lola guessed to be in her late forties. Maybe younger. It was hard to tell. She was done-up like a five-year-old playing fairy princesses, wearing a pink bobbed wig and a white corset and tutu. Worse still, she had “doll” makeup on. Cliché ballerina face with rosy cheeks, overdone blue eye shadow, and painted on eyebrows and false lashes. Perfect for stage, but up close, it held more of a will-crack-if-you-smile appearance and added maybe ten years to her.

“Miss, can I use your phone, please?”

She creased her brows, the heavy makeup cracking under the pressure. “No. For Dolls only.”

“I need to call the police.”

“Don’t care. You’re not using this phone unless you’re a Doll.”

“You can use my mobile to report Al,” he offered. “Quit nagging Pocket Polly before she throws us out.”

The overdone Doll pulled a hand to her mouth. “Oh, sweetheart, you have a crazy ex? I’m so sorry. Of course, you can use the phone.”

“Polly, that’s the first time I’ve heard you be nice to anyone outside your little circle,” Dennis joked, thumbing her to-do notepad left out on the counter.

“Hey, give me a break. Look, her heart is broken.” She slid her notebook out of reach then placed an old rotary phone on the counter. “You go ahead, honey.”

Louisa smiled at beautiful yet odd Polly and called in the theft. Not that she expected anything to happen. Police didn’t have time to focus on a gentle stalker who lavished her with gifts and gave her the creeps. But they put on the pretense of caring, made the report, and advised her to check with the bank to make sure it wasn’t a mistake. If, indeed, the money had been stolen, she was to cancel the savings account to prevent further damage and keep them updated.

She sighed, hung up, and dialed information. They connected her to her bank, but some automated opening-hours message played so she ended the call and passed the phone back to the Doll. “Thanks.” She’d try again in the morning.

“Anytime. Enjoy the show.” Polly slipped two pink cards her way. “Have a couple of drinks on me, and you’ll soon forget that ex of yours.”

She glanced at the tickets, each valid for one cocktail. “Thank you, that’s very kind.” Louisa peeled off her coat. “These drinks will go a long way toward shaking off the day’s crapiness.” She turned to Dennis. “We can stay for a drink, can’t we? And some of the show?”

“Sure.” His mouth kicked up at the corners. He handed her garment to Polly and ushered Lola up the grand staircase.

“I’m quite curious to see these dancers.” Standing tall, she tilted her chin high and ascended while trailing her index finger along the smooth metallic railing.

Dim lighting greeted her at the peak. Crimson velvet-draped round tables topped with storm candles filled the space between a bar and the stage. Red damask wallpaper and gold lights gave the space movie star glamour rather than cheap, stripper-joint ambiance.

The Doll House bustled with laughing and chattering drinkers. A party of bachelorettes knocked back shots and danced around their bridal-veil-clad queen, and a bunch of executives wearing plastic birthday hats watched and cheered them on. Women, dressed in their finest admired each other’s outfits, and twenty-somethings in jeans and tees browsed the program for the evening’s performance.

She wanted to sit up front and order cocktails from the laminated, pictorial menus—strong drinks with ice and a straw—then finish every one of them before crawling into Dennis’s bed. Yeah, that’d improve her night. Not so much in the morning when his fiancée turned up, though.
Ouch. Perhaps not.
A fiancé thief she was not.

“
I’ll have one drink.”

Spotlights crossed the stage curtains, and excitement bubbled in Louisa, fading her worries. It’d been a long time since she’d been on this side of the curtains before a show.

The anticipation thrilled her.

Deep, sensual jazz notes bounced around the room, and the audience hushed to rapt silence.

“Just one?”

“Yes, and make it quick and strong.” She thrust the coupons at him. “Use these.”

“In that case, do you want a Pink Doll?” Hints of green shimmered through his oceanic stare.

She snickered. “Erm, okay.”

“What?”

“Since when did your kind of drink have ‘doll’ and ‘pink’ in its name?” she prodded, unable to contain a chuckle.

“It’s popular around here.” He shrugged then ordered two draft lagers instead.

“Damn, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. A Pink Doll sounds more appealing than a pint.”

The barmaid wore a similar outfit to Pocket Polly’s. “I’m not pouring two pints, that’s too boring. Two Pink Dolls it is.” She mixed and poured the concoctions while swinging her hips to the rhythm, pivoting then bending to retrieve napkins from a lower shelf, she flashed red and white stockings and frilly undies.
Nice pink knickers
.

Dennis cleared his throat and turned his attention to Lola. “How much did the bastard steal?”

“Almost fifty thousand.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“I can spot you some cash, pay me back whenever.”

“Thank you, but I have enough on me so I should be good. Hopefully, he only got hold of my savings, and my credit card account is safe.” She kissed his cheek and lingered for a moment. Resisting the urge to tilt to the left so her lips would meet his, she put on a smile. “I need to call my bank first thing. And I have a paycheck due in a few days so I’ll need to divert that to my credit account or something. I’ll figure it out.”