Chapter 6
L ola anxiously sipped an iced turmeric latte in the glass-enclosed conference room at Gloriana’s Hollywood office.
Gloriana herself sat at the head of the large table.
The stylish ribbon of silver running through her black hair was the only visible sign that she was, in fact, the same age as Lola’s mother.
Despite her assiduously wrinkle-free fair skin, to Lola, Gloriana had the reassuring presence of an older woman, full of wisdom and experience and, when necessary, tough love.
Ringing the table were core members of Lola’s team.
There was Veronika, her longtime publicist, whose wardrobe of stylish neutrals belied the fact that she was an absolute bulldog, professionally speaking.
A representative from the comms group that did social media sat beside her, as well as someone from marketing and brand relations.
Lola’s creative director was there, and the label had someone on speakerphone.
Micah, the man-bunned producer, was there too.
He kept checking the time on a Rolex that he’d once explained to Lola, against her will, was durable enough to wear surfing.
Several assistants were also present. Lola’s assistant, Cassidy, always looked like the most highly strung person in the room.
Her milky complexion mottled red when she got nervous, which was often.
A lot of stars worked with friends as personal assistants, but Lola had hired Cassidy as a favor to Cassidy’s uncle, a top exec at her label.
On her first day, Cassidy had arrived with a perfect coffee order and a stammering speech about how she wasn’t there to spy for the label, but to do the best job she could.
Lola had appreciated the honesty, but she knew that no matter how many NDAs Cassidy signed, if Lola ever tried to enforce them, she’d jeopardize her relationship with her label.
Lola did come to trust Cassidy when the secrecy with Ava made it unavoidable, but she’d always kept Cassidy a little at arm’s length.
They’d gathered to meet the documentary’s director. At least, that’s what they would have been doing, if Renee had been there.
Gloriana’s assistant looked up from her phone. “She’s almost here. Traffic out of LAX.”
“Who doesn’t expect traffic out of LAX?” Gloriana muttered.
“It must be unusually bad today,” Lola offered.
She’d really had to make a case for Renee.
Once the team had gotten past their surprise that Lola was seriously putting her foot down about Chess Waterston, they had not been happy.
They’d been even less pleased when the replacement Lola found didn’t have an IMDb page.
Lola showed them the student films Renee had sent over, which were great—but at under ten minutes, hardly evidence that Renee could handle a feature.
Lola had pivoted. Renee had lived next door while Lola was writing Seventeen Candles .
They’d gone trick-or-treating together as kids, done extra credit projects for physics class together.
The Feldmans’ house had been like a second home.
That history would set the film apart. Veronika got on board, but Micah had worried that Renee simply lacked the experience for this kind of job.
“Then you can help her!” Lola had suggested, a little desperately. “Isn’t that what producers do?”
Gloriana had relented. They’d go with Renee, under Micah’s supervision. After all, Gloriana had added, delivering the film on time was more important than producing something good.
Now, as the seconds ticked by, Lola felt less and less ready to see Renee again.
She’d spent much of the week reminding herself that working with Renee would be completely fine.
Better than fine—really good! Lola had told Renee that things would be purely professional, and Renee had cut her off in her rush to agree.
Not that it took a psychic to figure out Renee’s feelings: you didn’t slip out after sex without saying goodbye if you liked someone.
The problem was, Lola caught herself thinking about Renee, and not just reliving memories of their hookup.
Over lunch, she’d find herself wondering if Renee would scoff at the idea of salad for every meal, and soon she’d be imagining Renee skimming a menu, her gaze flitting to Lola’s at a tucked-away table.
She’d lay awake, alone in bed, wondering if Renee slept naked and whether she liked to be the big or little spoon, and how it might feel for Renee to push her down into the mattress.
Just then, a receptionist led Renee, with her suitcase and backpack, up to the conference room.
Her platinum hair was the only point of light in her all-black outfit: unzipped hoodie over a clingy racerback tank, work pants, thick-soled boots.
The outfit was as poorly suited to August in Los Angeles as it was to a professional meeting—but it was incredibly well-suited to Renee.
Lola’s breathing went shallow as self-consciousness crowded into her body.
What her face was doing, how she was holding herself, did she look normal?
It was not only that Renee would see her, but also that Gloriana would see her see Renee—Gloriana, who’d asked why the director Lola had suggested sounded familiar.
She’d found Renee’s name on the signed NDA and demanded, in the delicate way that Gloriana made demands, an explanation.
It was too late for second thoughts. Renee walked through the glass door—and hooked the wheel of her suitcase on its edge.
Renee’s bag fell to the floor with a tremendous smack , as she stumbled, breaking her fall across the nearest thing to her, which was Lola’s lap.
Below her, Renee was on her knees, her fingers splayed over the skirt that was taut across Lola’s thighs, her breasts pressing into Lola’s bare legs.
The green eyes that met Lola’s were rounded with shock, the mouth just slightly open, the full lower lip pushing forward.
Lola could simply reach down, run her thumb across that lip.
Maybe Renee would take it into her mouth—
Gloriana cleared her throat like the overseer at a girls’ reform school.
Renee scrambled up.
“Are you all right?” Lola asked. Her heart was beating everywhere, down to the tips of her fingers.
“Completely.” Renee didn’t look at Lola as she took the seat beside her, but her cheeks were pink. “Sorry I’m late. The traffic was wild.”
“A classic L.A. welcome!” Gloriana said. “Renee, we’re incredibly excited to have you on board.”
They did introductions, with each team member echoing how truly incredible that excitement was, even as they eyed Renee warily.
“Welcome to Team Lola!” Gloriana said. “Let’s talk goals for this project. After four enormously successful albums, Lola has taken some time away from the spotlight.”
Lola fixed her eyes on the eco-friendly straw biodegrading into her latte.
Lola knew how it sounded when someone in her position “took time away.” At best, it was ungrateful: her dad had worked hard his whole life, and until Lola started making real money, he’d never been able to take time away from long-haul trucking.
At worst, it made people think she’d needed rehab or had some kind of breakdown; addiction and mental health issues were legitimate medical problems for normal people, but for celebrities, they were juicy scandals.
Although, Lola supposed, she hadn’t been that far from a mental breakdown, after Ava. If things had gone differently, Album 5 would have already come out, full of the perfect, honest love songs she’d written.
Lola herself would have already come out, with a girlfriend beside her.
But without Ava, there had been no reason for any of it: not to come out, or record those songs, or even force herself out of bed.
Which was how she ended up here, listening to Gloriana tell Renee that the world needed to be reminded that Lola Gray existed and that they loved her. Sitting through a meeting like that was a very effective way to make yourself feel unloved.
“We—and Streamy—want something accessible and authentic, but fun. Nothing controversial,” Gloriana was saying. “Fans should feel like we’re peeling back the skin on their favorite pop star, and letting them see that, underneath, she’s a regular girl, just like them.”
“ Peel Lola’s skin back ,” Renee echoed as she scribbled in her notebook. “I wasn’t expecting the horror angle, but it could be really fresh.”
Lola nearly choked on the last sip of her latte.
“That’s funny.” Gloriana gave Renee a tolerant smile. “We want viewers to feel that closeness you have with a sister or a best friend.”
“Which is why it is so phenomenal to have you on board,” Veronika chimed in. “Lola’s childhood best friend behind the camera is a storyline in itself. So much we can do from a publicity perspective.”
“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” Gloriana said, “Renee, you’ll be working very, very closely with Micah.
We know this shoot is a big lift for you—a little beyond your previous experience, I’m sure you’d agree—so Micah’s here to take the pressure off.
From technical questions, to pulling together a product that Streamy will be happy with, and hitting that deadline—he’s your guy. ”
Renee shot a wary glance at Micah. “My guy?”
“Exactly!” Gloriana said. “Micah, the floor is yours.”
“This is the shooting schedule.” Micah passed a folder across the table to Renee.
“You already prepped this?” she asked.
Micah’s man-bun bobbed as he nodded. “We need to hit the ground running.”
Renee scanned the document. “How closely are you expecting me to stick to this?”
“ Very closely,” Micah said. “With all the schedules involved, there’s no margin for error. But we’ve calendared out a nice balance of bigger events and intimate moments that will showcase everything fans love about Lola.”
“I should have been involved in drafting this,” Renee said with the kind of bluntness Lola was incapable of.
“As I’m sure you know, Renee, films are highly collaborative.” Gloriana’s smile, familiar to Lola, gently conveyed conversation-ending finality. “We all collaborated on this schedule so you can, as Micah said, hit the ground running.”
“Right,” Micah continued, ignoring the unease scrawled across Renee’s face. “Shooting starts tomorrow. The crew can’t wait to meet you.”
Renee sighed, nodding unhappily. Then she turned to Lola. “If shooting starts tomorrow, when are we meeting? Dinner tonight?”
An awkward silence settled over the conference room. No one ever asked Lola about her schedule. In most meetings like this, only Gloriana addressed her directly.
Cassidy spoke up from the corner. “Lola has a dinner at eight and before that—”
“Before that, please clear my afternoon,” Lola said.
“But you have—” Pink rose on Cassidy’s cheeks.
“Whatever I have isn’t more important than this. The Streamy deadline and all that,” Lola said. “If we want this film done right, I can carve out a few hours to meet with the director.”
THE MEETING ENDED. As everyone filtered out of the conference room, Lola took a moment to study Renee.
She was sorting through the various documents she’d been given.
Her brows were drawn, and she was chewing the inside of her cheek.
There was something comforting in the fact that Renee looked a little out of place in the glossy setting of Lola’s life.
“Are you going to say hi, or just stare at me like a weirdo?” Renee said without raising her eyes.
An easy grin spread across Lola’s face. “Stare at you like a weirdo.”
“That’ll make filming hard,” Renee said wryly. But then Renee did look up. Her gaze shifted slowly down to Lola’s mouth and lingered. “I take it back. If you keep smiling like that, it’ll be a breeze.”
“Smiling like what?” Lola asked.
Cassidy interrupted before Renee could answer. “Your car’s here.”
As Lola and Renee headed for the elevators, Gloriana popped out of her office. “Renee, so nice to meet you. Lola, let me steal you briefly.”
Lola stepped inside and Gloriana pulled the door closed after her.
“We can still pull Chess back in,” Gloriana said.
“I don’t want Chess. That was the point of hiring Renee.”
Gloriana peered at Lola through the bottommost edge of her glasses. In flats, Gloriana was several inches taller than Lola, and she never wore flats. The height difference made Lola feel like a child.
“I’ll only say this once, Lola: don’t let this get messy.”
Lola opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again.
Her first impulse was denial: she had no idea what might be getting messy or why. But that was a lie for everyone else, not for Gloriana, the keeper of the NDAs.
“I won’t,” Lola said. “There’s nothing going on between me and Renee.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Gloriana said. “You can see how that would be really undesirable from our perspective, right?”
“Absolutely,” Lola agreed.
Lola had confided in Gloriana that she was bisexual when her career was just beginning.
Gloriana had thanked her for her bravery, then explained, “In this industry, details about your life are currency. You need to manage your wealth, just like you do at the bank.” They’d both felt Lola’s sexual orientation wasn’t information the public needed to know.
With Lola always tied to men, it had never mattered.
Then came Ava.
Gloriana had cautioned Lola not to lose her head then too.
But Lola hadn’t listened, so Gloriana spent a year protecting her, making sure the world—including most members of Lola’s team—believed the women were just super close friends.
Together with Veronika, she killed any story that said otherwise.
When Lola had wanted to include a song she’d written about Ava as a bonus track on Wild Heart , then decided to release another as a stand-alone single, Gloriana had made sure the lyrics were sufficiently obscure and agreed.
The songs did well, but now Lola wished Gloriana had put her foot down.
Those songs—along with her indiscretions with Ava—had spawned a community of fans.
The #LavaTruthers obsessively analyzed Lola’s songs, photos, posts, and who knew what else for signs that she was into women, generally, and one woman, specifically.
At least she had Gloriana to thank for stopping her from putting everything on the line for Ava, like she’d wanted to.
“And if anything does happen, we’ve got Chess in our back pocket,” Gloriana said, giving Lola’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, as if Lola had raised the concern herself.
But as Lola joined Renee in the hall, she found herself wondering why it had felt like a threat.