Lola

 

Lola had been so busy since she’d returned to Hollywood that she’d hardly had a chance to think about the shooting, even though it was the only thing the media cared about. She constantly got phone calls asking her for interviews, but she always forwarded the voicemails to Vic. None of these people should have her number anyway, and she wasn’t about to let them know they actually had it right.

 

“You’re going to have to pick someone,” her manager had warned her from behind the big oak desk in his office. He was a large man with slicked-back hair, the typical manager type. His snake oil salesman personality had really turned her off when she’d first met him, as had the pictures on his office walls of celebrities who had long since become has-beens. But he had promised her he would make her a star, and so far he had come through on that. He sat with his feet on his desk and his hands behind his head.

 

“I just don’t want to talk to anyone about it,” she insisted for the millionth time. “It was awful and scary, and if I was just a normal person then nobody would expect me to stand in the spotlight and share the whole thing. It’s not fair.”

 

Vic’s feet dropped to the floor and he wheeled forward, resting his elbows on the desk and leaning so that his face was close to hers. Lola could see every pore on his face and smell the old cigar smoke that hung around him like bad cologne. His glasses were the kind that turned dark when he was out in the sun, but they never turned completely clear again once he was in his office. It gave a dull yellow tinge to his eyes. “Look, I get it. I shouldn’t have to remind you that I’m not new to the business, and I’ve seen plenty of people go through plenty of stuff.” He gestured behind him to some actor that Lola didn’t recognize. “But if you don’t get out there while people actually care about the shooting, then eventually nobody will care at all. You’ll have lost the chance at not only an exclusive interview, but other big things like a book deal or a movie. Right now, everyone else in the media wants to cash in on this, and you’re the only one who can make it happen.”

 

Lola frowned at him. She didn’t like to admit that he had been right about everything in the past, but he had. He had been right about the sexy outfits and the borderline lyrics. He had been right about touring in Europe, and he had been right about that music video that seemed too cheesy to be real. But she didn’t want him to be right this time. “Maybe, every now and then, it’s okay not to make money on something like this.”

 

“Lola.” Victor whipped off his glasses and began wiping them on his shirttail, still looking at her. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

 

She sighed. “No.”

 

“Good. Then you know you should trust me on this. You can’t be a celebrity and expect to stay out of the spotlight. It’s not realistic. So you have to take the moments as they come and make the most of them, whether that means a vacation where the paparazzi happen not to find you or a media circus that could earn you millions. Take it, and run with it.”

 

“Okay.” He didn’t look like a trustworthy guy, and Lola hadn’t always liked the advice he gave, but she couldn’t deny that he was right. He stood to make his own share of money from this, but she was the one who thought she wanted to be in the limelight. “Okay.”

 

“So, who are you going to go with?” Vic pulled out a notebook on which he had written down a list of reporters over a page long and pushed it across the desk toward her. “You’ve got plenty to choose from.”

 

She glanced at the names, feeling so overwhelmed that she didn’t even recognize most of them. “Tonya Donovan,” she finally said, pointing at the name. The woman had always seemed nice, and Lola didn’t think she could put up with one of those shark reporters who would be perfectly happy ripping the story out of her.

 

“I’ll get it all set up.”

 

* * *

 

Just a few days later, she was sitting in the makeup chair at the television studio. The long counter was backed with numerous lighted mirrors, and a few other people were prepping for camera time as well. Interns and reporters whisked about, schlepping coffee and yelling at each other. It was just as chaotic as it was backstage right before a concert, so Lola was used to it. But even though she had no problem standing up in front of an audience of thousands and singing her heart out, she wasn’t sure she could do the same thing when she knew she had to talk.

 

“You need to hold still,” Brittany said gently, “or I’m never going to get your eyeliner straight.” The makeup artist had her bleached-blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail to keep it out of her way while she worked, and she flicked it back as she turned and reached into her case for a cotton swab.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous.” Lola had managed to get down a little bit of yogurt for lunch, but that had been it. Her stomach didn’t seem like it would tolerate much more, and it was still threatening to revolt.

 

“You don’t have any reason to be.” Brittany slowly chewed her gum as she slicked liquid eyeliner onto Lola’s face. “You’re going to look great.”

 

“I’m not worried about that.”

 

With the eyeliner in one hand and the other hand on her hip, Brittany gave Lola a look. “Then what, exactly, are you worried about? You’re no stranger to the camera or to big audiences. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous, just excited.” She set down the eyeliner and grabbed a poufy powder brush.

 

“It’s completely different. I have to sit there and actually talk about my life and about what happened.” The brush felt nice on her face, but she couldn’t take much comfort in it.

 

Brittany swapped out the brush for a tube of lip gloss in Lola’s signature shade. She dabbed it gently on her lips. “Just think of it as another performance. You might consider yourself a singer, but in some ways you’re an actress, too. I’m sure you don’t always feel like strutting your stuff, but you always act like you’re confident and happy up there. Just do your thing, and you’ll be fine.”

 

Lola gave her a wan smile. “I hope you’re right.”

 

“What the hell do I have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?” bellowed a voice from the other side of the room, scaring them both. Tonya Donovan came storming through the prep area, her fists curled at her sides. Her dark eyes were wicked as she stormed through, practically sending out lightning bolts. A few crewmen skittered out of her way. She stopped and glared at the two women. “Have you seen one of those useless interns? I asked for a coffee ten minutes ago, and I have yet to see one in my hand.”

 

Gesturing off to the left, Lola said, “I think I saw one go that way.”

 

Tonya’s face suddenly softened. She looked slightly more like the TV personality Lola was used to seeing. “You must be Lola Lennox. It’s so nice to meet you. I hope everyone on the set is making you as comfortable as possible.”

 

“It’s all been very nice, thank you.” And it really had been. Lola had discovered a large fruit basket in her dressing room, and a shy intern had mumbled that she would get her anything she needed. The studio had offered the use of their own makeup artists, but of course, Lola had brought Brittany.

 

“Good. I’d hate to think it could be otherwise, but I don’t always get the most competent help around here. Do you have any questions for me before we go on the air?” She gave Lola her award-winning smile.

 

Is it too late to back out? But that wasn’t a question that someone like Tonya would probably take with good humor. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

Without asking, Tonya plucked a shade of lipstick out of Brittany’s makeup case and leaned over to a mirror, tracing her lips. “Just remember to look at me and not at the camera. We want to make this look very informal and comfortable, not like a regular newscast. We’ll be live, but you don’t have to worry about much when it comes to timing. The network is more than happy to delay a few commercials if they know they’re getting good ratings from a big interview. They never say it out loud, but trust me, they’ll cater to us.” She winked, dropped the lipstick randomly back into the makeup case, and stalked off.

 

Brittany glared after her and rearranged her case. “Lovely woman.”

 

“And my career is in her hands,” Lola sighed. With her makeup done, she got up and headed down a hallway to her dressing room to wait. She hated that this whole thing was making her face what had happened. Even more, she hated that it made her think about Bishop. That afternoon in the hotel had been amazing, and she almost wondered if she had dreamed it. But she hadn’t, and the reality of it was that she would never see the Cobra King again. He had been far gentler than she would have thought a man like him would be. A small part of her wished she could go back to a town like Rolling Hills, but without all the attention, and just be a real person for a little while. She wouldn’t want to deal with her parents or the media, but she wouldn’t mind dealing with Bishop.

 

Checking over her outfit and hoping she had chosen the right one, Lola knew she had to get this interview done right. She had to give Tonya just enough details that the audience would be satisfied, and then maybe she wouldn’t get stuck doing any more of these.

 

But she had to be careful to hold back other information. Nobody needed to know why she had been in Rolling Hills in the first place or just who she had spent time with. It was a shame that the stupid gunman, whoever he had been, had taken something that was supposed to be a private trip and turned it into such a big deal. Eventually, she knew, someone who had seen her with Bishop would ask about him. There would be someone who had been at The Dive who had seen them together, and they would bring it up. People would start digging into it, and Rolling Hills would be put on the map once again. Lola wasn’t looking forward to it.

 

The knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

 

“Come in.”

 

A young man with a headset and a worried look on his face poked his head in. “Ms. Lennox? You’re on in five. If you’ll come with me, I’ll get your mic put on and put you in position.”

 

She followed him dutifully, taking deep breaths and hoping she could just get through this.