Lola

THE THROBBING IN my nose was only outshone by the throbbing between my legs, thanks to Grayson, the asshole.

Daphne and Sophia were already hovering around my desk when I stomped to it and slammed my beloved red Kate Spade bag down on the top. I was dangerously close to full-on tantrum mode. Despite my physical attraction, Gray seemed to bring out the worst in me.

“Morning, sunshine.” Sophia gave me a saucy grin. Daphne did a half-assed job of trying to cover her giggle with a cough. I stared daggers at the both of them before dropping down into my chair and rubbing at the sore bridge of my abused nose.

“Oh no,” Daphne started, her tone full of sympathy. “Did you run into the glass again?”

I seriously hated my life at that moment. That was twice now I’d tried to make some dramatic exit from Grayson only to humiliate and injure myself at the same time. “This entire place is a death trap,” I grumbled. “I’m lucky I haven’t concussed myself yet.”

“You’re like those birds from the Windex commercials,” Sophia added unhelpfully.

I frowned at my so-called friend. “Thanks.”

She smiled cheerfully and dropped a newspaper on my desk. “If it’s any consolation, you looked hot last night.”

“What?” I asked, snatching up the copy of the Seattle Times and thumbing through.

“Try the Entertainment section,” Daphne offered.

The thin pages rustled loudly as I whipped through them. When I finally landed on the photo that had caught my girlfriends’ attention, I froze. Okay, yeah. Sophia might have been right. I was rocking that dress, but that wasn’t what I was focused on. No, what held my rapt attention was the fact that the photo was of Grayson and me wrapped in a tight clinch, making out like two horny teenagers next to his car on a public sidewalk.

“Damn it!” I hissed.

“That’s quite a show you put on for the cameras,” Daph teased, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“Jesus, how the hell did this make it into the papers so fast?”

“Well the headline says it all, don’t you think?”

I looked from the photo to the black, bold letters printed above it:

THINGS HEAT UP BETWEEN LOCAL CELEBRITY LOLA ABBATELLI AND ONE OF AMERICA’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELORS.

“Gossip sites are already starting to speculate how long this has been going on,” Sophia told me. “There are even a few reports saying you two have been hooking up for a while and are secretly planning to run off to Vegas and elope soon.”

My head shot up at that announcement, and I noticed my friend looked way too amused by the news.

“This isn’t funny,” I demanded, but truth be told, if the shoe was on the other foot, I’d probably be having just as much fun at Sophia’s expense as she was at mine.

“Au contraire, this is hilarious. The rumor mill is already running rampant. Seems the folks in PR and our lovely Sam are beside themselves with glee. They’re absolutely thrilled at the thought of the publicity this relationship could bring to our show.”

My eyebrows dipped together, my head starting to ache as my brain worked feverishly to keep up with just how epically my life was crumbling before me. “It’s not a relationship,” I insisted.

“Sure looks like one to me,” Daphne chimed in. “I mean, look at that kiss.” She yanked the paper from my grasp and waved the photo in front of me. “No one is that good an actress. You look like you’re trying to eat his face and he looks like he’s two seconds from ripping that dress off and taking you against that car. You can’t fake heat like that, babe.”

“Yes, you can,” I lied. “You can totally fake it, because that’s exactly what I was doing.” My brain shouted Bullshit! as I said the words. I mentally flipped it the middle finger. From the looks on my friends’ faces, they didn’t believe that anymore than I did.

Clenching my eyes closed, I lifted my hands and began rubbing at my temples to try and stave off my oncoming headache. I needed a do-over of the past few days. I needed this all to be a nightmare.

I was praying for some sort of reprieve when my cell phone began ringing from inside my purse. I pulled it out and released a pained groan at the sight of the name on the screen. I must have really done something big to piss Karma off, because not only weren’t my prayers answered, but things only seemed to be getting worse.

“Hi, Ma,” I answered.

Those two words were cut off by my mother’s shrill, hysterical scream coming through the line. “Cara!” she shouted. “Oh, my dear, sweet girl! You’ve made me so happy!” She started spouting off endearments, bouncing between Italian and English in her excitement. “It’s all over the interweb that you’ve landed yourself a handsome young man!”

I wasn’t sure where to start first, so I decided to grab hold of the easiest thing. “It’s the Internet, Ma, not the interweb.”

Her snort echoed through the receiver. “Whatever. I don’t care about that. All that matters is that my little girl’s finally got herself a man! Oh, cara, I’m so happy.” Ah hell, her voice was watery and wavered like she was just moments away from crying happy tears. “I’m not happy you were so public in your affection, but I can’t be too mad, not when it means I’ll finally get my dream of little grandbabies! But you really should consider being more private in your liaisons, darling. You’ll get a reputation.”

“Whoa! Whoa!” I cried out. “Slow your roll. No one said anything about babies. Have you lost your mind? Jeez, Ma, it was one date!”

“And such a good-looking boy,” she mused. Only my mother would call a grown man in his midthirties a boy. “And from the article it looks like he’s very well off.”

“Mom!” I snapped, desperate to pull her from her tangent. “Just stop, okay? It isn’t what you think. Grayson and I aren’t—”

“And what a masculine name, don’t you think? Grayson.” She said it almost reverently. “So strong and commanding, yes?”

That was such a spot-on description of not just Grayson’s name, but his presence as well — not that I’d ever admit that to my mother; she was already foaming at the mouth because of a simple picture. Trying to talk her down right then would’ve been pointless. I didn’t have the inclination or the time to talk her down. I needed to get to the studio.

“Look, Ma, I have to go, okay? We’re going on the air soon. I’ll call you later.” Like in a year or two.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you soon. Maybe I’ll come for a visit,” she said, sounding like she was speaking more to herself than to me. That declaration sent chills over my skin. “It’ll give me a chance to see you, and meet your new young man.”

“Sweet, merciful hell,” I grunted through the line.

“Language, Lola Arianna Abbatelli!” she scolded.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“All right, honey. Talk soon. I love you.”

“Love you too, Ma.”

I hung up and dropped my head to my desk, banging my forehead against the cool, smooth surface three times before sitting up straight.

“So…” Sophia dragged out, “nice chat with your mom?”

“She wants to visit,” I told them.

They both stared at me with matching expressions of horrified astonishment. They were my best friends; they knew that, despite how much I loved my mother, being in her company for more than a short span of time was a recipe for disaster. One of us was bound to kill the other if we were cooped up in the same room for too long. There was a reason we lived on different coasts. Our relationship did much better with a continent dividing us. When I was growing up, we butted heads like crazy, the both of us being strong-minded, stubborn women. It wasn’t until I moved away to college that our relationship finally began to flourish.

“You’ll kill each other,” Daphne stated the obvious.

I let out a humorless chuckle and added, “She says she wants to ‘meet my new young man,’” I told them, using finger quotes to emphasize my point. “When did my life get so effed up?”

Sophia smiled evilly. “When you met your match and caught the guy’s eye at the same time. Grayson Lockhart is totally your equal when it comes to getting what he wants.”

I scowled again. If this kept up, I was going to have wrinkles long before I was ready. “I didn’t catch his eye,” I objected petulantly. “I just… pissed him off, and now he’s making me pay for it.”

Daphne picked up the paper once more and shook it playfully. “Looks like you caught more than just his eye,” she singsonged.

I snatched the paper from her hand and crumpled it up, tossing it into the recycling bin.

“You’re right. I also caught his disdain. We can’t stand each other.”

My friends gave each other a knowing look. “Just keep telling yourself that, Lo,” Sophia said.

I stood from my chair and propped my hands on my hips, replying in a snotty tone, “I will, thank you very much. Now if you two don’t mind, we have a show to do. Can we please stop talking about my fake love life and focus on our jobs?”

Again, they shared a look that made me want to smack them both. But before I could, they both stood up and started out of my little cubicle toward the studio. I breathed a much-needed sigh of relief as I followed after them. I thought the topic was dropped, that I was finally granted my reprieve, but I should’ve known better.

“Hey, Lo?” Sophia asked, watching me over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Can I be your maid of honor when you and Grayson get married?”

While she and Daphne giggled like little schoolgirls, I was contemplating how I could dispose of my two friends’ bodies after I murdered them.