Chapter 25
“Go back to sleep,” Lola said.
Renee rolled into the warm spot where Lola had been lying and mushed her face into the pillow. Lola’s day was packed with appointments—a meeting with the swimwear people, then shopping with her stylist before the charity gala. Renee was off until the evening.
White noise from the shower filled the room, but Renee couldn’t fall back asleep. She curled her legs up to her chest, so her body was a compact ball in the center of the bed.
She couldn’t stop thinking about last night.
Leaving the restaurant, Rosalie led the way, then the newly single Lola, her arms linked with Tatiana and Carolina.
Renee brought up the rear—which made sense, because the paparazzi needed their shots of the girl gang, not Lola’s documentary director.
It wasn’t fair to be bothered that she hadn’t been able to hold Lola’s hand.
Just like it wasn’t fair to be disappointed that Lola hadn’t told Carolina and Rosalie who Renee truly was to her.
After all, Renee had never really been in the closet like Lola was: she’d stormed out at fourteen and never looked back. She didn’t truly understand what it was like for Lola. But it still seemed to Renee that confiding in her friends would have been a reassuring first step on this journey.
Lola returned wrapped in a robe and immediately stubbed her toe on a suitcase.
“You can turn the light on,” Renee said.
“You sure? I don’t want to bother you.” Lola’s voice was hushed, though Renee was clearly awake.
Renee reached for the bedside light herself.
“Maybe I want to watch you get dressed.”
The bathrobe swallowed Lola’s frame, and her hair hung loose and wet. Renee held out her hand. When Lola came closer, Renee pulled at the robe’s belt. It fell open, revealing a strip of her still-damp body. Renee slid a hand inside the robe and cupped the jut of her hip. “Get back in bed with me?”
Lola wetted her lips as the robe slipped from her shoulders. “Just for a minute.”
Renee held up the duvet for Lola to slip in.
She nestled into Renee’s arms. Water bled from the dark ropes of Lola’s hair into the pillowcase.
Renee sighed with deep satisfaction. Lola kissed her, slow and sensual, a long good morning.
The kind of enveloping kiss Renee wanted to spend the whole morning getting lost in, just the two of them under the blankets in the half-dark room and the taste of mint lingering on Lola’s lips.
“I don’t have time for—for more,” Lola said. Renee loved that Lola still hesitated to refer directly to fucking.
“I know. I just wanted to hold you. I’m going to miss you today.”
Renee traced a line of kisses along her jaw, up to her ear, then stopped. They both knew what would happen if she kept going. “Maybe I can come meet you, for the shopping stuff?”
“I’d love that, but it’s your day off.”
“I know. But you do rely on my fashion advice.”
S OMEHOW , R ENEE HAD imagined strolling with Lola from store to store, where she’d sit patiently like the world’s best boyfriend, telling Lola she looked smoking hot in everything she tried on.
In reality, she’d signed on to a multi-hour, tightly managed affair.
They waited in the black SUV while the showroom was cleared, or they were ushered to a private room, where the stylists’ or brand’s pulls were waiting.
Lola deferred to their recommendations almost every time.
While they waited for the next set of picks, Renee browsed a rack of women’s suiting in a rainbow of jewel tones. She thumbed the sleeve of a rust-colored set.
“Why don’t you wear something like this, Lo?” Renee said.
“It’s not really my style. But these are gorgeous.”
Renee hadn’t moved past the rust-red suit. “They are.”
“Why don’t you try it?” Lola said.
“It doesn’t come in black,” Renee said. She did like that wearing black made her look tough, but it was also practical, cheap, and, most of all, safe—even if it could be a little boring.
“You seem to like the red.”
Renee turned away from the rack and shoved a hand through her hair. “It’s nice, I guess, but it wouldn’t fit anyway.”
Cassidy lurked up beside them, phone in hand. “Lola, Chloe confirmed for dinner tomorrow.”
“What dinner?” Renee asked. “I thought we were free tomorrow.”
“Remember Saint Satin? It’s hard being new in the business, so I reached out to her. More established artists did that for me, when I was starting out, and it really meant a lot to me. I like to pay it forward.”
“You’re only saying that because Chloe’s a massive Lo-Lite.”
Lola bumped her shoulder against Renee. “I’ve already got a fangirl following me around everywhere.”
Renee’s heart swelled happily at Lola’s teasing. “I don’t want to be replaced! Am I invited?”
“Not this time. Why don’t you get dinner with a friend?”
Renee chewed her lip for a moment. “Actually, tomorrow night there’s this annual party that my MFA program throws. The Fall Reception. All the faculty and students go, and a bunch of industry people and alumni come.”
“You never mentioned that.”
“I can’t go anyway. I didn’t RSVP,” Renee said.
“At least come up with an excuse that makes sense,” Lola said flatly.
“Fine. I can’t go because I don’t want to.”
“Then why bring it up?” Lola said with a raise of her eyebrow.
Renee winced. “Because I like to keep you informed about what’s going on in my life?”
“ Renee .”
Renee folded her arms. “Maybe a tiny, little part of me wants to go. Dragan said he wanted me there. And it would be nice to go to this party without feeling like a fucked-up little gremlin.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“To everyone I went to school with, I am a fucked-up little gremlin. Dragan’s been nagging me for updates and I can’t even tell him that I found a meaningful direction for the film. Sorry—I didn’t say that to pressure you. It’s just true . I can’t tell Dragan until you tell Gloriana.”
Lola’s fingers drifted toward Renee’s hand, but she caught herself.
“I’m sorry. I meant to talk to her before this trip, but things got busy.
I’ll do it first thing when we get back, I promise.
But you should go. You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on a little to think about walking into that party knowing they’re all wrong about you. ”
Even if it didn’t match her reality, Renee liked the image of her that Lola had in mind: confident, unbothered, striding into that party like she was out of fucks to give. But more than that, she knew Lola loved that image.
“Let Dragan show you off, and we can meet up after at the Saint Satin show.”
T HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON , Renee walked alone through the brisk November chill back to Lola’s apartment.
They’d just wrapped the final shoot of the trip—a photoshoot—and professionally, the visit had been a success.
She was happy with the footage she’d gotten, especially at last night’s gala.
In the film, it would be a moment to reflect that all of Lola’s sacrifices had been worth it, to allow her to reach people like this.
But as Renee’s feet carried her closer to her destination, the satisfied glow from a job well done dimmed: the Fall Reception was beginning in an hour.
Lola wanted her to go, but Lola didn’t understand what it would feel like for Renee to be there.
Lola was massively successful, a powerhouse who had climbed to the top of her industry.
When Lola Gray walked into a room, eyes were on her because she impressed .
When Renee walked into the reception— if she walked into the reception—eyes would be on her in the way they’d be on a dog that walked in on its hind legs: the near-dropout who’d stumbled onto the opportunity of a lifetime.
Renee hoisted her backpack up her shoulders as Lola’s doorman called the elevator for her.
She’d skip the gala. She’d nap, then take herself out for dinner before the Saint Satin show. She’d tell Lola she didn’t have anything to wear, which was true: her black jumpsuit was dependable, but wearing it three nights in a row was a little excessive. It was starting to smell.
In the apartment, she waved to Cassidy, who had taken off on an earlier errand and was now on the couch with her iPad, then headed to Lola’s room.
When she got there, she found a garment bag laid across the bed with a white envelope inscribed with her name. Renee slid her thumbnail under the seal and pulled out the card.
If I can’t be there with you, at least I can make sure you look good—Lo
Renee pulled down the zipper of the garment bag and gasped with delight.
Inside was the rust-red suit she’d admired the day before.
How had Lola known? Renee hadn’t been able to stop thinking about this outfit, even though it was nothing like what she usually wore, and cost far beyond what she’d ever spend on clothes.
But more than that—Lola had known that Renee would lose her resolve, that she didn’t have anything to wear other than that jumpsuit, that she would need the extra confidence that Lola always managed to give her.
She hoped it would fit. There were three reasons Renee avoided tailored pants: the first two were her hips and ass, and the third was a lack of funds for alterations.
Up top, her chest was full enough she didn’t usually mess with button-ups or suit jackets, as much as she wanted to.
But even if the suit didn’t fit, the gesture meant a lot.
There was a knock on the door. Renee opened it to see Cassidy, looking rather proud of herself. Beside her stood Lola’s hairstylist, her makeup artist, and a third woman, who introduced herself as a tailor.
“We heard you’ve got a party to go to,” Cassidy said.
R ENEE ’ S STOMACH WAS in knots as she walked into the reception at the NYIF’s faculty club.
She could not beeline for the bar: that stank of desperation, evidenced by the first-years clustered beside it.
Their frightened eyes darted around the room, afraid to recognize anyone, but also afraid not to.