Page 45 of Hotter in the Hamptons

Lola had accepted the fact that they were going to see each other everywhere, but that didn’t mean she wanted to eat dinner next to the girl. She felt her pulse quicken as Aly appeared at her side, sitting down. She looked too pretty in the candlelight. Her pale skin had acquired the most subtle hint of tan. Her hair was down, hanging loosely around her face. The Hamptons looked good on her.

“Hello, Lola,” Aly said. She sounded annoyingly professional. Lola had to remind herself that they were literally at work, and Alywasa professional. In many ways, Lola was the one who had turned this into a personal mess.

“Hi.” She didn’t want to be rude in front of all these people, but she also didn’t care to be nice.

The rest of the table filled up quickly. She turned her back on Aly to say hello to Rachel, who immediately launched into a monologue about the weight she was trying to lose before September. “Have you tried the new all-natural GLP-1 supplements?” Rachel gushed.

Lola was nodding along at moments that seemed appropriate, but she wasn’t listening. Instead, she strained to hear the conversation Aly was having with the people sitting across from them, who Lola gathered were other journalists.

“Yeah, I mean,” she heard Aly say. “Sometimes I really don’t think influencers should even be at press events.”

Rachel was still midsentence, but Lola turned back to Aly. “What was that?”

Aly and the two well-dressed women across from them all stared at her.

She should be an adult. She should let this go. She should not make a scene in front of these notable writers and Goop; it was like she was spitting on Gwyneth herself. But lately, Lola hadn’t been that great at doing what she should, Hamptons Zen be damned.

Maybe it was the tequila or the agonizing weeks of Aly run-ins, but she suddenly could not access Professional Influencer Mode. It was gone—it had evacuated due to the disaster of her career, running for higher ground. Which meant she was on her own.

She went full throttle. “You don’t think influencers should be at press events? Who do you think is responsible for driving sales these days? You think anyone is actually reading the press? You think your little articles have more impact than one Instagram story from any of the girls here? You think print still has value?”

“Print still has value,” Aly said in a voice that was frustratingly calm compared to Lola’s questions raining down like shrapnel.

The problem with making this argument was that Lolalovedprint magazines. She still subscribed to all the major glossies and felt devastated any time another one became digital only, which was happening more and more these days thanks to—she knew—influencers like her. It was a horrible position to be in. She was partially responsible for the destruction of an industry that she loved, one she’d wanted so badly to be in that she’d created her own way to get there.

But she was absolutely not going to let Aly Ray Carter know they were on the same page about it.

Instead, she imagined flipping the table over, Teresa Guidice style.

A PR person at the other end of the table was clinking her fork onher wineglass and starting a toast, thanking everyone for coming. At the same time, cater waiters appeared, carrying plates of beautifully arranged salads, the first course.

Lola stabbed at her lettuce and frowned.

“How do you two know each other?” one of the women—the one with long, blond hair—across the table asked, as if to break the obvious tension that now blanketed them.

“I profiled her,” Aly said, at the same time as Lola said, “She called me bland inThe Cutand now my career is over.”

“Oh,” the other woman, a redhead, said, looking apologetic. “I did read that piece.”

“And what did you think of it?” Lola asked tartly.

“Lola,” Aly said. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No, really,” Lola said. “I’m curious.”

The two women glanced at each other. The blond one said, “I thought it was smart and largely harmless.”

The redhead nodded, adding, “You know the news cycle. People were on to the next thing within a day.”

“Well, this one seems to have had a longer tail,” Aly said, stepping in. “There were some unintended consequences for Lola that I do feel badly about.” She seemed to emphasize her words, her eyes drilling into the side of Lola’s face.

Lola shot her a glare. “I’m sure you do,” she said as sarcastically as she could manage.

“It was surprising to me that you even covered influencer drama,” the blond said. “Not your usual beat.”

The redhead was nodding. “Yes, that’s true. What made you want to write it? Usually you cover much more serious topics.”

“Yeah, Aly,” Lola said, turning her whole body toward Aly, wholooked like she was folding in on herself. “What gives? What didIdo to earn the pleasure of your ire?”

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