Lola

 

Lola Lennox stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She clearly remembered what her last school picture had looked like before she’d run away from this little dump of a town, and she knew she wasn’t the same person anymore. With the help of a fabulous makeup artist, she was no longer the mousey little academic of Rolling Hills High School.

 

It had been six years since she’d left at the ripe age of 16. She had been told her entire life that it was important to work hard, make good grades, and keep her nose clean. Lola had done that to the best of her abilities, and she had quickly risen to the top of her class. She constantly brought home excellent report cards and awards, but it was somehow never enough for her perfectionist parents.

 

“That’s nice, dear,” her mother would say, the corners of her thin lips twitching ever downward. “But did you put together the curriculum for that Sunday school class you said you were going to teach? Those little kids are depending on you.”

 

“I know,” Lola had replied patiently. “I’m going to do it on Saturday. Right now, I’m getting ready to go out with some friends.”

 

“I don’t think so, Laura,” her father had interrupted. That had been her name when she had still been from this town, though now she didn’t consider herself to be from anywhere. “You have obligations, and you have to take care of them first. Not only do you have the Sunday school class, but you need to put together your campaign plan.”

 

“Campaign plan?” She had looked at her father in his leather armchair, feeling confused.

 

“You’ve got to be class president all four years to make it look really good for your résumé,” he had reminded her. “You’re going to be applying to colleges next year, and you’ve got to make the best impression possible.”

 

That was how it had always been. The constant demands were just too much, and Laura had finally had enough one day. She’d decided on her new name, packed her things, and left in the middle of the night. Taking the sedan she had bought with her own babysitting money, Laura had headed for the Hollywood hills as Lola Lennox. She hadn’t known if she would make it or not, but that hadn’t mattered. She had to get away, and she had to try.

 

After only a year of open mic nights, Lola had been snapped up for a recording contract. And yet somehow she had still landed right back where she’d started, coming home to visit her parents out of sheer guilt. What a mistake that had been.

 

Lola stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to her seat at her booth. She had just wanted a quiet drink alone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been alone, and it wasn’t going to happen now. Even in this Podunk town, she didn’t dare go anywhere without her bodyguards. It was a good thing, too, since the crowd had arrived only a minute after the bartender had set her margarita down in front of her. Fortunately, this crowd was nothing compared to what she usually experienced. No professional paparazzi had shown up yet, and it was limited to kids with phones. She could handle that.

 

But what she wasn’t sure she could handle was the homecoming she had received when she’d shown up on her parents’ doorstep. It hadn’t gone as planned. Lola sank down into the booth, accepting the new drink her bodyguard had fetched, and reflected on the fact that she truly didn’t have a hometown anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Stay in the car,” she commanded as she picked up her purse and took a deep breath.

 

“But—”

 

“I said stay in the car!” Lola didn’t like to get mean with her bodyguards. They had kept her safe when fans went wild, and she was grateful to them for it. Sure, that was their job, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate them. And she had come to like Butch, thinking of the big bald man as an older brother who was always looking out for her. “I need to do this by myself.”

 

“Just let her go,” Chris remarked, leaning back in the passenger seat of the car. “It’s not like anything is going to happen here. I bet the whole town freaks out when there’s something as small as a fender bender.”

 

Lola couldn’t argue with him on that, but she secretly loathed his arrogance. What did he know about Rolling Hills? Nothing, that’s what.

 

“I might be in there a while, so just be patient.” She gripped the handle of her handbag, wishing she didn’t have to do this. But she had already come all the way here, and there was no point in turning tail now.

 

“You gonna tell us just what the hell we’re doing here, anyway?” Chris asked, arching his dark eyebrows. “I highly doubt this town is big enough to support one of your concerts. Their biggest event is probably the election of a Corn Queen.”

 

It was a Peach Queen, actually, but she didn’t bother correcting him. She didn’t have to, since Bruce decided to speak up instead.

 

“Hey, it’s not our business!” he barked. “This is where she wants to go, so this is where we are. You knew that was how it was when you signed on, so shut up about it.”

 

“Are you gonna make me?” Chris challenged.

 

Butch sat up a little straighter in the driver’s seat. “If it means I won’t have to listen to your whining anymore, then yeah.”

 

“All right, you two! I’ve got enough going on without any of your drama. Shut up, stay quiet, and just wait here!” If she hadn’t wanted to get out of the car before, she sure did now.

 

Lola swung her long legs out of the back of the rented sedan and headed up the sidewalk she had once known so well. As always, her father was keeping the lawn a perfect carpet of green. There wasn’t a dandelion or poky bit of crabgrass to be found. The flowerbeds that lined the front porch were weeded and clean, with fresh mulch around the azaleas.

 

It was a stately home, one far nicer than most of the places in Rolling Hills. Her friends had always wanted to come to her house because she had the nicest room and the biggest backyard. There was never a shortage of food in the pantry, and the towels in the bathroom were always clean and smelled of fabric softener.

 

Even so, her stomach churned as she raised her fist to knock on the door. It had been her childhood home, but she didn’t dare just walk in unannounced. Lola waited, holding her breath until the big red door swung open.

 

The short woman in the doorway blinked her brown eyes at Lola, not quite processing who the visitor was. She ran her fingertips through her spikes of brown hair. “Laura?”

 

“Hello, Mother.” Lola shifted from foot to foot, wishing her mother would just let her in already. If they gave this too much time, the neighbors would start watching through their windows. They probably already were.

 

Mrs. Dodson blinked again. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Can I come in?” Lola asked through gritted teeth.

 

“Of course, of course.” Her mother opened the door a little bit wider and admitted her into the big house.

 

Nothing had changed. The living room still had the overstuffed furniture that looked as though it had come straight from the showroom floor. The ornate floor lamp her mother had picked up at an expensive estate sale stood tall and straight near the couch, and the pale carpet was spotless. The only difference Lola noted was that the old tube television had been replaced by a massive flat-screen. “You got a new TV.”

 

“Take your shoes off!” Mrs. Dodson barked. “Or have you forgotten all the rules now that you’re a star?”

 

Biting her lip, Lola stepped out of her shoes and left them on the tile floor of the foyer. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

 

“That’s what you’re going to apologize for?” her mother demanded. “Not the fact that you ran off without a word, or that we only know what’s happening in your life when we watch the entertainment segment on the news? Or maybe that you sing such disgusting lyrics that aren’t appropriate?”

 

Lola forced a smile. She wasn’t always satisfied with the lyrics her producer put together, but her contract dictated that she do it anyway. And that wasn’t important right now. “I heard about Dad.”

 

Mrs. Dodson put her fist on her hip. “What news is that?”

 

“You know, Mom. About Dad’s heart.” The grapevine still worked quite well in Rolling Hills, and even though she was no longer friends from anyone here, it wasn’t hard to find out what was happening.

 

Her mother’s lips tightened. “Well, what about it?”

 

“Is it so hard to imagine that I might want to come home and make sure you guys are doing okay?” Lola was starting to think she had made a mistake. She hadn’t expected her parents to throw their arms around her and cry over how much they had missed her, but neither had she expected such outright venom.

 

“And just what are you going to do about it?” Mrs. Dodson replied. “We’re doing just fine, and we don’t need any help from you.”

 

“Angela?” came a familiar voice from the kitchen. “Who’s here?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, George!” his wife called back, still glaring at Lola. “I’ve got it handled.”

 

But George Dodson wasn’t satisfied with the answer, and he soon came through the door with a plated sandwich in hand. His mouth fell open, his loose jowls jiggling slightly, and he nearly dropped the plate. “Laura?”

 

“Actually, it’s Lola now. At least, that’s how everyone knows me. How are you feeling?” She had spotted the tenderness in his eyes at seeing his daughter again. Maybe her mother didn’t appreciate her coming home, but at least her father did.

 

Mr. Dodson’s mouth worked for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he spoke as his face started to redden. “How am I feeling?” he repeated. “How am I feeling? I’m feeling like I’m seeing a ghost of my daughter who died six years ago, except now she’s come back from the dead as a whore! Just look at those clothes! You can’t prance around here like that! This isn’t Hollywood!”

 

Lola resisted the urge to cover her body with her hands. This was conservative compared to what she usually wore onstage. “It’s nice to see you, too,” she said with a scowl. “I wanted to come home and see how you were doing. I know I didn’t leave on the best terms, but I thought after all these years we could sit down and talk like adults. It’s clear to me that I’m the only one who’s matured.”

 

“Don’t you dare talk to us like that, young lady!” Mr. Dodson shook his finger in the air. “We did everything for you, and you repay us by prancing around on a stage like some slut. Don’t come back here thinking we’re going to hand you the Daughter of the Year award!”

 

“George! Sit down and eat your sandwich!” Mrs. Dodson stepped between the two of them, her hands out like a referee. “Laura, you’re upsetting your father. He can’t handle that in his current condition.”

 

“My condition is fine!” Mr. Dodson argued. “It’s just a kink in the old ticker. The doc put me on some pills, so I’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal.”

 

As much as she was hating this entire conversation, Lola was glad to hear that at least things might not have been as bad as they seemed. “Don’t you guys even want to talk to me? Or would you rather just stand around yelling. I can leave just as easily as I did before, you know.”

 

“Oh, we know!” Mrs. Dodson stood ramrod straight in front of her daughter. “You didn’t exactly see us chasing you down, now did you? If you were going to be such an ungrateful little child, then there was no point in bringing you back under our roof just so you could gloat about your time in Hollywood. We’re good people, and we don’t deserve the kind of treatment you’ve given us.” With her chin in the air, Lola’s mother crossed her arms in front of her chest.

 

“I should have known.” Tears threatened, burning the backs of her eyes, but Lola wouldn’t dare let them fall. She was a singer, but a large part of her job involved acting. She had learned to pretend to be confident even when she was completely insecure, and how to stay calm when she was terrified inside. That meant she could also act like she didn’t give two shits what her parents thought about her, even though she felt her heart shrivel and die inside. “If you want to be jealous that I got out of this backwater and made something of myself without you, then fine. I’ll stay out of your way.” Turning on her heel, she headed for the door. Storming out wasn’t quite so impressive when you had to stop and slide your shoes back on, but she did it anyway and slammed the front door behind her.

 

Lola had already booked her flight back to California, but her ticket wasn’t good for two weeks. It wouldn’t have been all that difficult to have it changed or even to buy a new one. After all, she had plenty of money. The hard work she’d put in on recording her albums, touring exhaustively, and cranking out loads of music videos for the Internet world to eat up had truly paid off. She was sure that ordinary people who made a fraction of her paycheck didn’t work nearly as hard, but that was the life of a celebrity and she had grabbed it by the shorthairs.

 

But something told her that she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. Maybe it was the distinct feeling that her father wasn’t as well off as he made it sound. Maybe, secretly, she hoped her parents would change their minds, track her down, and invite her home for dinner. It was a nice fantasy, but an unlikely one. Either way, she slumped into the backseat of the rental car and slammed the door. “Let’s go find a bar.”

 

Butch started the engine, but Chris turned around with a grin. He had straight white teeth that contrasted his olive skin, and his hair was always perfectly combed. “Sounds like things didn’t go so well?”

 

“Shut up.” Butch gave a warning mumble from behind the wheel. “You’re not being professional.”

 

“You know, you act like the security company belongs to you,” Chris spat. “We spend all our time with her, and we’re supposed to just act like we don’t notice the huff she’s in? Come on, man. That’s not real.” Chris looked at Lola and rolled his eyes, clearly thinking he was in the right.

 

“Just shut up,” Lola confirmed as she turned to look out the window. Even if Chris had been her best friend instead of her bodyguard, she probably wouldn’t have told him anything. There was nothing to be proud of when it came to the way things were with her parents. She hadn’t been good enough for them when she had tried so hard to be perfect, and she still wasn’t good enough as a celebrity.

 

Her phone beeped. It was a text from Brittany Bell, her makeup artist. The two of them had worked together as soon as Lola had been picked up by her record label, and they had instantly become friends. Lola had been thrilled to find someone she could hang out with, since she hadn’t known anyone when she arrived in California. Victor, Butch, and Chris knew where she was going, but only Brittany knew why.

 

How did it go?

 

Shitty, Lola typed back. I should never have come here.

 

The reply came back instantly. I’m sorry, honey. It’ll be okay.

 

Yeah. I’m going to get a drink. There’s only one crappy little bar in this town, but it’ll have to be good enough.

 

She was stuck between two worlds, and she contemplated that as the bottom of her second margarita glass became visible. She was no longer the innocent girl she had been when she’d left Rolling Hills, but neither did she want to be. Even though the world now viewed her as a pop sensation, she knew that most of that life was fake. There was no in-between, no balance, no happy medium. Lola was floating along through her days, just following the schedule her manager had made out for her. There had to be something more.

 

With a sigh, Lola pulled her phone out of her purse and opened her news app. They were always talking about her somewhere, and she had made it her business to know what the media had to say. Though she would never admit it to anyone else, she took the online criticisms very seriously. How else was she to improve her performance and her career if she didn’t know what people thought or wanted? Sure, there was always someone who was bitching about her skimpy outfits or her sexual lyrics, but there wasn’t anything Lola could do about that. Sex sold, and the numbers proved it. She ignored the sound of her impromptu audience and clicked on the latest headlines.