Page 111 of Hotter in the Hamptons

Which meant someone was dead or in trouble. Her heart started pounding with fear.

“What’s wrong?” she picked up. “Are you okay?”

He laughed. “Girl!”

Okay, so no one was dead. Then why the early call? “Oh my god,what?”

“They love you,” he said.

“Who?” She got out of bed and opened the curtains. Light filled the bedroom.

“Everyone.”

She felt a rush of bright, glittering hope in her stomach, putting him on speaker as she pulled up Instagram.

There were too many notifications for her to understand what was happening—likes, tags, follows, DMs, all of it.

“Can you give me a quick summary of what the fuck is going on?”

“Your confession last night was recorded and shared to TikTok,” he said. “The youth have declared you iconic and uncanceled. Oh, and you’re Mother again.”

“Oh my god,” she said, the gravity of this finally hitting her. “They forgive me?”

“They more than forgive you, babe. They stan an authentic bicurious queen. They think you slayed your comeback. Theyloveyou.And I watched your video, so I know being loved by strangers is not the point. But isn’t it alittleexciting?”

“No, it’s very exciting,” she laughed. “I’m still me.”

She looked out over Soho, bustling with rush-hour traffic. There was a whole world out there just waiting for her.

“A new version of you, though,” he said. “Lola 2.0. Look through all your shit and then call me back. We need to celebrate.”

She was too overwhelmed to properly examine her notifications. There were too many. Instead, she went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee while she microwaved a bowl of oatmeal. Then, as she sat at the table and slowly ate her warm breakfast, she opened her email.

Her inbox, as usual, was a stressful disaster of press releases and newsletters. But there at the top were three messages that caught her eye. The first was from Todd, her former manager.

Great video, Lola. I think the clients are going to love this rebrand. Let’s talk.

She rolled her eyes.

Fucking Todd.

The next was from Veronica, her publicist.

Lola Fine!!!! You are literally so major. We’re all obsessed with what you said live last night. I’ve already gotten a mountain of NYFW invites for you. Are you still out east, or can I have someone deliver them to your apartment? Can’t wait to get back to work. I think a comeback profile in the Times style section would kill. Or a spot on Tinx’s podcast. Something big. Call me.

Lola perked up at the idea of NYFW invites but then felt annoyed. Veronica only wanted a piece of her when things were going well.

The third email was from… Her breath caught. Colette Boucher.TheColette. Aly’s Colette. Lola’s heart was pounding. She forced herself to read slowly enough to take in the words.

Dear Lola,

I was so moved by what you said last night. I think it’s great that you’re taking the narrative back. But more urgently, I loved what you were wearing. Clearly vintage, clearly reimagined. I’d know your style anywhere. Which brings me to why I’m emailing you. I’m going on a book tour next month and having a total clothing crisis. The book is about climate change, so I think it would be a really bad look to buy new clothes for it. I was wondering if you’d be willing to style me, using only vintage and secondhand clothes. Of course, I’ll pay you whatever you want. I think we could have fun. I already checked with Carter, and she’s fine with it. She thought it was a great idea. Also, I just wanted to add, don’t worry about her. She’ll come around. She has a pathological need to be friends with all her exes. Just give her some time. Anyway. Let me know what you think. I’d die to work with you on this.

xx Colette

“Oh my fucking god,” Lola said out loud to her empty kitchen.

Her team reaching out was not surprising. They were a bunch of absolute vultures. But Colette? Wanting to work with her? Wanting to be styled by her no less? That was definitely not on Lola’s bingo card.Colette was potentially the chicest, most intimidatingly hot girl Lola had ever met. And she wantedLola’seye forherstyle? Lola was pretty sure nothing had ever been so validating. The email didn’t evensoundlike Colette. Thexxsign-off? Insanity. Like an alien had hijacked Colette’s brain. Unless…maybe how she’d acted on Fire Island was just a front. Or maybe she had been so triggered by seeing her ex with another straight woman that it brought out the worst in her. Lola had room to forgive Colette for being mean at first—especially after an email like this.

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