Chapter 22
R enee Zoomed with Dragan in early November in her office in Lola’s house. Technically it was a guest room that Cassidy—Lola had never attempted to conceal their relationship from her assistant—had suggested designating as Renee’s workspace.
“Before we discuss the material you sent, you received the invitation for the reception, yes?” Dragan asked. “We have no RSVP from you and it’s less than two weeks away.”
The New York Institute of Film’s Fall Reception was an orgy of networking and fundraising where alumni and patrons of the arts got to meet the brightest lights of NYIF’s programs. If you were one of those stars, you could make career-defining connections.
If you weren’t, you were still expected to attend.
“I don’t know if I can make it. We’re shooting in L.A.,” Renee said. Renee didn’t mention that by a stroke of bad luck, Lola was scheduled to be in New York for a gala to combat childhood hunger that same week, with Renee in tow.
“Make an effort, Renee. I want to see you there,” Dragan said.
Renee sat up straighter. “You do?”
“One of our third years, directing a major feature? Friends of the institute will be very impressed. Now, let’s discuss your work.”
Renee’s stomach lurched as Dragan flipped through his notes. The two-minute clip she sent him was meant to set the tone for the broader film. She’d worked hard on it, which meant that she was simultaneously fiercely proud of it and terrified that it was in fact total shit.
Set to a voice-over of Lola speaking about making music, a short montage played:
Lola taking a deep breath before going onstage at Corkscrew, then a wide shot of the massive crowd.
Lola as a little girl, singing in the Grigorians’ living room, then as a teenager on You’re Next! , followed by the clip of Lola with her high school journals.
Lola smiling and posing on the Fit to Live red carpet, then alone, working a song out on her guitar with her glasses on and her face tensed in concentration.
Renee had tried to juxtapose Lola Gray, high-gloss America’s Sweetheart, with the Lo she knew, who was hardworking and earnest and talented beyond belief. The contrast was meant to emphasize the tension between the public and private, the persona and the person behind it.
“Aesthetically, it’s strong. Your footage has a lovely quality,” Dragan said. Renee’s heart fluttered at the positive feedback. “However, what I’m seeing here is a pretty girl in pretty dresses, singing pretty songs.”
Her heart crashed back down to earth.
“But she’s not just a pretty girl,” Renee objected. “That’s what I’m trying to say. The public sees this polished image, but behind it there’s a woman working her ass off.”
Dragan made a face as if she’d served him wine that had gone sour. “That is true for many famous people. Festivals now are overrun with celebrities making these films about themselves.”
“Lola’s different. She’s more of a songwriter than a performer.” It didn’t come out the way Renee had hoped. She sounded like a fangirl, not a director.
“Documentary filmmakers tell a story to serve a purpose. Where purpose and story meet is where our magic happens. Without purpose, the story is meaningless. It leaves no trace on the viewer. Without story, the purpose is an academic exercise, and the film becomes tedious.”
Renee nodded. Dragan had written an entire book on this point, which she had read so many times she could recite sections from memory.
“You’re saying that your purpose is to demonstrate that your subject is different than people think because she works hard.”
“That was a little reductive. I meant—”
“I don’t need an explanation, Renee; the work speaks for itself. Where is the spark? The originality? If I am not a fan of this person, I have no reason to watch.”
“But this is already a lot better than what they hired me for,” Renee said feebly. “They wanted something entertaining about her next album.”
This visibly repulsed Dragan. “Do not insult your vision by comparing it to that of these businessmen . They are not artists. They work with numbers . You, Renee, are a storyteller . You go deeper. You push. You do not define success on their insipid terms. That is your responsibility to yourself, to the medium—to the truth .”
This was the most dramatic speech Renee had ever heard over Zoom, and it set nausea pulsing through her stomach. Even with all Lola’s faith in her, Renee was still at square one.
Dragan removed his glasses and glared at Renee through the screen. “As we say, everyone wants to make films, but not everyone can. This is not always a question of talent. It never has been with you, Renee.”
Renee was dumbfounded. What question was there besides talent? You were good enough, or you weren’t. Your education and career were just a series of elaborate tests to measure that goodness, and Renee had stalled out at a critical cutoff.
“Talent is helpful, but talent is like potential. Easily wasted. You must be committed . To be willing to do what needs to be done to serve your art. That commitment is where you have always been weak. Take risks and stand by them!” Dragan sighed heavily.
“If this Lola Gray is as good as you say, maybe you can learn something from her.”
***
Lola was on the couch, laptop on her thighs.
She was eager to hear what Renee’s thesis advisor thought of her work, but she needed to concentrate.
It was less than eight months until the planned release date and her creative director wanted to finalize a direction for visuals, based on some unfinished tracks.
The visuals would dictate not just the album cover, but the atmosphere of her music videos, merchandise, the live show aesthetic, even her red carpet looks.
The color story he proposed was all jewel tones with burning pops of color.
After-dusk indigo with electric red. Ferny green with aquamarine.
Scarlet with white. It was a far cry from the pastels and bright colors that themed her past albums.
It was amazing to Lola how fast her work was evolving.
The songs she’d written since Michigan felt different.
They were still the radio-friendly love songs that Lola Gray was known for, but they were more authentic than the romanticizations of her life she’d written in the past. This album would feel more luscious, like the cherry in a Manhattan, like rumpled bedsheets in the dark.
A little messier, a little hungrier, a little more free.
She heard Renee’s footfalls on the stairs and closed her laptop.
“Did he love it?” she called. “ Oh no , darling, come here.”
The corners of Renee’s mouth were pulled down, her chin wrinkled and eyebrows drawn. She fell onto the couch, then slumped to lay her head in Lola’s lap. Lola immediately slid an arm over her stomach. Renee clutched it to her, as Lola’s other hand petted Renee’s messy hair.
“He says I don’t have a vision.” Renee’s voice was weak and gravelly. “The film needs purpose.”
Lola scowled with resentment for this man she’d never met. “Then he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You have tons of vision. This film is so much better for you being part of it.”
“He’s right, Lo,” Renee groaned. “Dragan didn’t tell me this to tear me down—actually, I think, he called me talented.”
“You are talented.”
“Talent doesn’t matter! What matters is telling a story with a purpose .” Renee pushed herself off Lola’s lap and hunched over with her hands buried in her hair. “The problem is me. I can’t make it happen.”
Lola’s heart hurt for her. The only thing she could think to do was rub circles on Renee’s back.
“When will I finally accept that I can’t do this?” Renee said with a burst of pained frustration. “I’ve been on the brink of failure for so long. Why can’t I let it go?”
“Because you’re closer to your dream than you’ve ever been.
You’re making a feature film—exactly what you’ve always wanted.
I know how terrifying it is when you’re waiting for all the pieces to come together.
” Lola leaned against her and set a kiss on her shoulder.
“I wish there was something I could do. But I have faith that you’ll figure it out, just like you had faith in me.
I’m writing some of my best work ever, and you’ve unlocked that in me.
If it wasn’t for this film, I don’t know if I would ever have resolved my writer’s block. That’s some kind of purpose, right?”
Renee straightened. “What?”
“Maybe not the kind of purpose Dragan wants, but it means something to me.”
“Your writer’s block,” Renee whispered. “That creative struggle. Maintaining your artistic integrity in a commercial industry. The burden of success—”
“Are you free-associating?”
Renee faced Lola, a light in her eyes. “What if that’s the story we tell? Your team wants a movie about happy little Lola Gray making her happy little album, but the truth is, it’s been hard. You’ve had to fight for it. You’re still struggling to tell your story.”
The rightness of it hummed like a struck tuning fork.
The film Renee was proposing would show her as the artist she understood herself to be, not the glossily packaged Lola Gray that fans had always seen.
Her team said the film should show the authentic, human side of Lola Gray, but they actually wanted the same old girl.
Lola didn’t feel like that girl anymore.
But still, there was an undeniable safety in Lola Gray’s image. The messy parts of Lola’s life didn’t exist for Lola Gray, or for the public. Her writer’s block had been so painful, had gnawed away at Lola’s sense of herself for so long, that she still hadn’t confided in anyone but Renee.
Renee was watching her expectantly. “What do you think?”
“I like it—but it sounds pretty personal.”
“It would be. But it would be honest, too.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about people watching me struggle.”
“Even if it’s a struggle you win ?” Renee said.
Lola pressed her lips together. She was proud of having dragged herself back from the brink, and of the music she was making.
But what Renee seemed to have forgotten, which Lola never could, was that this story was inextricably tied up with her sexuality.
Ava and the heartbreak, the shelved album, then Renee and the future.
She said, gently, “I don’t think you can tell that story without explaining why I had writer’s block in the first place.”
“Oh, right.” Deflated, Renee fell back against the couch, that grim look returning to her face. “That’s okay—really, it is. I’ll come up with something.”
Lola’s face fell too. Compared to Renee’s idea, the current concept for the film felt even duller and emptier than it already had.
All those weeks ago, Renee had offered her the opportunity to say something with this film.
It had scared Lola then. It still did, but this time, the lurch of fear was the kind she felt when she’d just started working on an ambitious new song.
“God, I wish we could do it though,” Lola said with sudden passion.
“You’re right, it would make a phenomenal film.
We could express what songwriting really means to me and show people who I am now.
It’s just—” Lola balled up her hands and pressed them to her eyes.
“If only I’d come out already. If I’d gone through with it after Ava left me.
It feels like there’s never going to be the perfect time to do it, and I’m so sick of worrying about it. ”
Renee eased Lola’s hands away from her face and held them.
“What if this is the time?” Renee said. “Why not tell that part of the story, too?”
Lola blew out a breath. “To even have a conversation about it, we’d have to go through fifteen meetings. It’s a massive operation. We’ll probably have turned the film in to Streamy before everything’s ready.”
“Dude, I know the parade planners can be a handful. When I came out, I had the local news, a marching band, and a chili cook-off. It was a lot to coordinate, and I was only a fifteen-year-old in Fellows.” Lola smiled at the sarcasm as Renee slid an arm around her and pulled her into her chest. “The perfect time to come out is when you’re ready. That’s it.”
“I am out, to everyone that matters,” Lola said, looking up at her.
“Maybe everyone who matters is more people than you think. You told me you were on the brink of giving up songwriting, the thing you care the most about in the world. What are you going to do when this album comes out? Are you going to tell the world that it’s about Nash?
What happens when Gloriana sets you up with your next boyfriend? ”
Bile rose in Lola’s throat, but she swallowed it down and said, “In this industry, you have to make compromises.”
“In a compromise, both sides give something up. Do you want to come out, Lo?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I’ve wanted to for years. It just feels impossible.”
“I promise it’s not. I’ll be right there beside you. We have the film and the album. What do you say?”
Lola’s mind raced, cycling through the catalog of anxieties she’d been maintaining for years. But then she looked at Renee, hardly breathing as she waited for Lola’s answer. Renee, who was solid, who stood up for her. Who imagined a future that Lola couldn’t believe in on her own.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Elation broke over Renee’s face. “Seriously? You’re being serious?”
“Yes, I’m being serious,” Lola said, laughing. “You’re right. This is what I need.”
Renee pulled Lola close for a long kiss. “This is going to be amazing ,” she mumbled against her mouth.
Lola pulled back. “I just need to tell Gloriana.”
“ Telling her, not asking her, right?”
“Right.”