Lola

 

She was just starting to relax, her muscles slowly letting go of their tension as she and Tonya talked. The set was a comfortable one, with low lights in the background that gave it a tone of comfort and yet intrigue. The producers had assembled a small audience, mostly of women, who made sympathetic noises or applauded depending on what the stage assistants told them to do. Lola could forget for a moment who she used to be before she was Lola Lennox. She could even forget what a nasty witch Tonya was when she wasn’t on the screen and pretend that they were just a couple of gal pals. She could do as Brittany had advised and pretend like this was all just another stage performance. After all, she knew what the audience wanted out of her. She could give them just enough to make them happy, and then they would download copy after copy of her new album.

 

But of course, the entire purpose of this interview was not to make everyone believe she and Tonya were good friends or really even to promote her album. It was to let the world know what had truly happened that night in Rolling Hills. Tonya waited patiently for her to answer the question.

 

“It was terrifying,” Lola replied. “We had no indication that anything like that was going to happen. I was just sitting there having a drink, minding my own business, and trying to relax a little bit. A crowd had shown up, which I didn’t expect, but they were in control. Then all of a sudden the bullets were flying. I could hear them as they whizzed by my head. I thought I was done for.”

 

The audience reacted with sighs and low whispers.

 

Tonya nodded, tears in her eyes. Lola knew they were fake, but no doubt the ratings were going through the roof. “I don’t think most of us can imagine what that was really like. We know that the police have yet to arrest anyone for this crime, but do they at least have any leads? Maybe some information they told you that they haven’t shared with us yet?”

 

“I’m sorry, Tonya. I wish I could tell you that they have, but there isn’t anything. Whoever this guy was, he was good. That’s a lot of the scary part, you know? We don’t know if he was a local guy who just wanted to make a name for himself, or if he was someone who knew me here in LA. I don’t know why he did it or if he’s still after me or not.” It was something Lola tried hard not to think about. She wanted to believe it was a one-off job, and she doubted the guy was a professional, or he would have killed her. But she still couldn’t get the sound of the bullets and the pounding of her heart out of her head when she went to bed at night. Of course, these flashbacks were instantly followed by those of Bishop.

 

The reporter once again nodded solemnly. She never had a list of questions to refer to or any cue cards to read but seemed to know instinctively where to steer the conversation. It was no surprise she was one of the top-rated reporters in the nation. “These days, there are so many situations caught on film. Surprisingly enough, there’s very little footage of what happened that night. Many of our viewers have seen the shaky footage that was caught on cell phones, but there isn’t much that really shows anything. While that has been frustrating for those of us who are desperate to know what it was like, and useless for the police in their efforts, I thought you might be able to fill in a few blanks. Just how did you manage to get away from the fire and stay safe?”

 

The studio dissolved around Lola, instantly replaced by the bar. She could see the crowd of onlookers, held back by the friendly bartender who seemed intent on helping. Bishop was next to her again, his hard thigh nearly touching hers, an arrogant smile on his face as he did his best to charm her. Everything was fairly well normal, and Lola was doing her best to put the encounter with her parents out of her mind and focus on this handsome stranger.

 

But the scene changed again instantly. The crack of the gun resounded in her ears, expanding and contracting with each explosion and making her head reel. Bishop’s arm was around her and forcing her under the table. Lola didn’t have the strength or sense to fight him. It was that close proximity to him that she couldn’t quite shake, that feeling of being held in his arms that translated so easily between the scene at the bar and their rendezvous at the hotel. The biker could have been holding her under the table or between his strong legs; either way was good with her. Things had seemed so cold since she had returned to the warm sunshine of Hollywood because she no longer had him with her.

 

Tonya cleared her throat, bringing Lola back. “Are you all right?”

 

“Oh, um, yes.” Lola took the glass of water from the table again, using the moment to gather herself together. She wasn’t in Rolling Hills, and she wasn’t anywhere near Bishop. Keep it together.

 

“It’s okay. I know this is difficult for you.” Tonya leaned forward sympathetically, her sad eyes believable. “We just appreciate you being here with us today and sharing your story. We believe that getting the truth out into the world is what makes a difference, and someone might be suffering in the same way that you are without a voice.”

 

Lola highly doubted it, but she understood what was going on. Tonya was just engaging the viewers and making them believe that this was a relatable story. It was all just showbiz, like Brittany had said.

 

“Now,” Tonya said, her tone suddenly brighter, “we have two more guests that we would like to join us this evening, men who deserve a few minutes of their own in the spotlight for assisting you and keeping you safe. Here we have Butch Phillips and Chris Vance!”

 

To Lola’s surprise, her bodyguards came out onstage. She had left them in the Green room when she had arrived at the studio and been escorted to her private dressing room. Nobody had told her they would be onstage or that Tonya would want to talk to them. Someone had swapped out their jeans and T-shirts for nice gray suits and ties. Butch looked uncomfortable both in the fancy getup and at the thought of being in front of the cameras. He nodded modestly at the audience before taking up a place standing behind the sofa.

 

Chris, however, was eating it up. He waved to the women in the audience as they clapped, cheered, and whistled at him. He’d made sure his hair was styled perfectly, and he showed off his brilliant white smile. When he was done with his showboating, he sat down on the sofa next to Lola, his thigh brushing hers.

 

Her throat tightened at his closeness, but not in the same way that Bishop made her feel. He was supposed to protect and assist her, but never had he just sat down so close. It was an odd invasion of her personal space that made a sheen of sweat emerge on the back of her neck.

 

Tonya beamed. “Butch, Chris, those of us who are Lola’s fans can’t thank you enough for keeping her safe. I understand there are some details that you just can’t give us about what you do, and we wouldn’t want you to reveal anything that would put her in any danger, but can you tell us a little bit about what you did for her that night?”

 

Butch said nothing, but Chris dove right in. “Well, Tonya, it was a challenge. There were people everywhere, and only the two of us. Fortunately, we pressured the gunman enough that he ran off, and then we were able to get Lola safely out of there. It was definitely a high-risk situation, and one we would rather not find ourselves in again, but we were glad to do our job.”

 

Lola tried to keep her face frozen so she wouldn’t turn to Chris in disgust and shout that he was a liar on live national television. She knew that was definitely not the way things had happened. But she couldn’t step in and tell the truth, not unless she wanted everyone to know about Bishop. As awful as this interview was turning out to be, that would make it far worse.

 

“And we’re all so grateful that you did,” Tonya said with a smile. “And I’m sure Lola is as well.”

 

She nodded dumbly. “Of course.”

 

The reporter’s grin widened, stretching her face in a scary way. “Now, as fascinated as we all are by the night of the shooting, there’s one more thing that’s been on our minds. The rumors have been slowly spreading on message boards; bloggers are speculating about it; and now we want to know the truth.”

 

Oh, shit. They really did know about Bishop. She had been foolish to think she would get off without anyone saying anything. Now she just had to decide if she would admit it or try to lie. There were benefits to both sides, but Lola just didn’t have enough time to think.

 

Tonya was practically leaning over the coffee table now. “Chris, you’re a handsome young man, and you’ve been in Lola’s service for nearly six months now. There are countless pictures of the two of you together. Of course you have a job to do, but the entire world is wondering: are the two of you in a relationship?”

 

The shock wave that hit Lola was tangible. “No,” she said instantly, terrified that Chris would try to claim otherwise. He was just the kind of guy who would say anything for a place in the spotlight. Lola paused a moment and smiled. “I mean, no, the rumors are false. We have a very professional relationship with each other, and I’m afraid that’s it.”

 

The women in the audience moaned their disappointment, and the left corner of Tonya’s mouth ticked down visibly.

 

Lola couldn’t wait to get out of there.