Chapter 16
E yes down.”
A brush swept across Lola’s eyelids. Her hands were in the custody of two manicurists, and a hairstylist was attaching extra extensions to the back of her head.
“So, this is how the Lola Gray sausage gets made,” Renee said.
Lola wedged one eye open to look at Renee.
The hotel room was crowded with her glam squad in red-carpet-prep mode.
Renee, trying to stay out of the way with her camera, had ended up leaning her hips against the windowsill in front of Lola.
She was wearing that jumpsuit again, the one from the wedding, with the same heels and the same red lip.
The soft light coming in through the sheers lit up the curves of her body.
Lola, sitting below Renee, with her legs crossed under her and dressed only in a loose button-up and boxer shorts, felt nearly naked staring up at her.
“This isn’t even my final form,” Lola said lightly, as the makeup artist waited for the glue on a strip of false lashes to get tacky. “Could I please have a sip of my iced coffee?”
The coffee was on a nearby table, but Lola’s job for the moment was to move as little as possible.
“I got it,” Renee said. She set the camera down, as the makeup artist applied lashes to Lola’s half-closed lids. The makeup artist moved away, and Renee raised the straw to Lola’s lips. As she took a long sip, a cold bead of condensation dripped onto the bare skin of her thigh.
Dozens of different people had held Lola’s drink during glam, maybe even hundreds, and the only sensation she’d ever experienced was a spike of awkwardness.
Yet, there were three other people touching Lola in that second, and Lola could feel Renee more keenly than any of them—Renee’s closeness, her scent, her attention.
Lola’s body responded with a wave of heat that gathered between her legs.
Lola’s tongue ran over her lips, trying to put the thoughts out of her mind.
But when she raised her eyes, Renee was still above her, her red lips slightly open and her own eyes hazy as she gazed down at Lola.
No—not at Lola, at Lola’s mouth . Suddenly, Lola was remembering the last time they’d been in a hotel room together, when Lola had drawn down the zipper of this same jumpsuit, revealing the muscles that made a valley of Renee’s spine, the lace edge of her panties, the gorgeous fullness of her ass, and how—
No, she had to stop this. Why was Renee wearing the jumpsuit again anyway? Didn’t she own another outfit?
Lola cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Renee put the coffee down and grabbed the camera, which had, of course, been pointed right at them. “Caffeine’s good for headaches, right?”
“Right,” Lola said. “But I’m feeling much better today.”
God, she hated the slimy feeling of lying, but what choice had she had?
Before the session with Ackerlund, she’d spent every night sleepless, racking her brain for the kernel of a song that might work, but Ava was like salt plowed into the earth of her creativity: nothing could take root.
Anything new she wrote, the LavaTruthers would spin for their theories.
Anything romantic—from longing and lust, to love and heartbreak—was radioactive.
What was she supposed to do, transition to a career of female empowerment anthems and dance club hits?
Lola Gray wrote love songs. She wouldn’t be herself if she left that behind.
She’d tried to make herself meet with Ackerlund anyway.
Well, she tried, then panicked, wept a little hysterically, iced her face to calm down, only to lose it again.
She’d promised Gloriana, who had promised the label, that she’d have something to show for herself and she simply did not.
Finally, Cassidy had called Gloriana, and Lola had babbled out something about not being ready, needing more time, just a little more time .
Gloriana had told her to make it work. That seeing Ackerlund would help.
That a little songwriting assistance was one phone call away.
Lola had promised to go, but once she’d hung up, she couldn’t stop thinking of the cameras, not only Renee, but all her fans witnessing her downfall.
On some technical level, it wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t had a migraine, but her brain felt like it was on fire.
And now Renee was here, looking sexy as hell and tending to her, and Lola wanted nothing more than to crawl into her arms.
“Anything you need, just tell me,” Renee said.
Lola swallowed hard. She wondered what Renee would have done if Lola had let her take the lead during their night together after the wedding.
At the time, she’d wanted Renee to remember that night like a reverie.
With Ava, she had taken satisfaction in doing exactly what Ava liked, and what Ava liked most was being the center of attention.
Renee would be different; Lola was certain. She wished she’d allowed herself to discover exactly how.
“Let’s get you dressed,” Jason St. Jude said as the glam squad wrapped up.
Lola unfolded herself from the chair and followed her stylist into the bathroom.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Jason brushed a hand over the dress, setting the emerald silk shimmering.
It had taken some legwork, and a whole lot of emails, to convince Gloriana and Veronika that she should wear the emerald halter, not the black cutout minidress they preferred.
They’d caved when Lola suggested that the more provocative outfit could read as desperate once she and Nash broke up.
Nash’s premiere was their final big appearance as a couple: these photos had to count.
The emerald dress was more romantic, like she was trying to make the relationship work, not attract a new man.
The narrative was a little misogynistic, but Gloriana and Veronika valued optics above all else.
She was still a little embarrassed that, had Renee not spoken up about the dress, Lola wouldn’t have either.
Now, anticipation fluttered in Lola’s belly. She couldn’t wait to see what Renee would say when she saw it.
Jason helped her dress and made sure everything was secured, taped, and covered, then buckled her into the sky-high heels.
“Can you see if Renee’s ready?” Lola asked as he gave her a final check. “She wanted to film the reveal.”
Jason slipped out, and Lola heard him say, “Another Jason St. Jude masterpiece is complete!”
By force of habit, Lola faced the mirror and practiced her smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. It looked off. This dress didn’t belong to someone who would wear that smile. It was for someone a little more alluring, more withholding. Harder to please.
When Lola walked back into the room, Renee was ready with her camera. Lola posed like she would on the carpet. Twisting her shoulders to bring out the angles of her collarbones, pouting her lips, turning to highlight the open back.
“Yes, girl!” Jason cried, snapping his fingers amid the ooh s of the glam squad.
Renee didn’t say anything at all. As the hairstylist gave her bangs a last adjustment, Lola asked, “So?”
Renee blinked at her, her gaze moving from the dress—Lola’s body—to her face and down again. “That’s the dress,” Renee said, her voice a little low, a little awed.
Lola’s whole body heated at the way Renee was looking at her—almost like she was imagining how the green silk would look falling from Lola’s body and pooling on the floor.
“Ready?” Cassidy said, clutching her phone. Her pale eyes flitted between them. Cassidy had witnessed the dress debate, had encouraged Lola to insist. That was probably why she looked so delighted.
T HEY MET N ASH in the hotel’s parking garage and carefully loaded into the SUV, mindful of everyone’s easily creased red carpet attire. Renee took the back, Nash and Lola in the first row of seats.
Nash twisted around and stuck out his hand to Renee. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Nash. You’re the documentarian I’ve been hearing so much about from our girl here.”
“You can ignore him,” Lola said.
Nash rolled his eyes. “Cute dress, baby. Very Keira Knightley in Atonement of you.”
Lola rolled her eyes in return. “I know you hate it.”
“Sorry, what?” Renee said.
“Oh, it’s just not his taste,” Lola explained. “Nash likes shiny things.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to—” Renee began, but thankfully Nash tossed his head and talked right over her.
“I never understand why you don’t just cover yourself in crystals and rhinestones whenever you get the chance. If I were a girl, that’s what I’d do.”
Lola glanced at Renee. She’d only ever told Renee why she needed a PR boyfriend.
Nash’s reason for a PR girlfriend was his to reveal—and Renee certainly hadn’t learned it when Nash showed up to her rehearsal in full hetero cosplay.
But now, in the privacy of the SUV, he was being himself.
Renee, never that good at hiding her feelings, wore her newfound realization on her face.
Lola said, “If you were a girl, you’d learn fast that rhinestones are crazy uncomfortable when you’re sitting in a movie theater for three hours.
” She paused a beat. It was something Nash had mentioned before, what he would wear if he were a girl, not only on the red carpet, but to parties, to the beach, to brunch.
Lola didn’t know what he meant by it—she wasn’t sure if Nash knew what he meant by it—so usually she let the comments slip by.
But now, wearing the dress Renee had inspired her to fight for, she wondered if she shouldn’t take them more seriously.
“Your stylist could put you in less masculine looks. More feminine, or androgynous. Tons of designers would love to dress you.”
Nash dismissed that with a chuckle. “Maybe if I make it to Cannes one day, my management would let me wear a shirt with the teeniest, tiniest ruffle. But they’d make me burn it before I left Europe.”
Lola changed the subject. “Are you feeling good about the premiere?”