Page 138 of When I Picture You
Now every time you touch me, I get a little more free.
When Lola had played her the finished song, Renee had wondered if people would know it was about the two of them. Hearing it now, the question felt inconsequential. Her name was buried in its DNA.
Also, it was still a banger, the kind of song that wouldn’t just be a hit this year, but that she’d be hearing in grocery stores in two decades.
“Are you okay?” Kadijah asked as it ended.
Renee tried to breathe normally. “I think so.”
“Some of those lyrics were—wow. The LolaGBTQ girlies better strap in.”
“I can’t believe she released it.” The way they left things, Renee had assumed that Lola would do what she had with the Ava songs. She never imagined that Lola would move ahead with the most queer-coded song she’d ever written. Shereallycouldn’t imagine Gloriana being okay with that.
“New Lola Gray album announced for later this year!” Kadijah read from their phone.
Renee grabbed Kadijah’s phone and read the article.Surprise single dropped on January 8 … full album coming … tour to follow … Gray parted from her longtime manager Gloriana Catalano in mid-December.
“She left her manager,” Renee breathed.
“The evil one? Yes! Oh my god, Renee, do you think she released this song as, like, a secret message for you, because she wants you back? Like a declaration of love?”
Renee only needed a second to think about this. “It’s a cute idea, but definitely not. She released this song because it’s amazing, and she worked her ass off on it. If Lola wants to say something to me, she has my number.”
ALEJANDRO CALLED Afew days later.
“What’s good, Renee?” he said. “How’s Michigan? I bet you miss the sun.”
They chatted about the Lola doc—it was on indefinite hiatus last Alejandro had heard—and the work he was picking up. He took it in stride when Renee admitted she wasn’t on another film, and getting back on her feet as a barista.
“Hit me up if you head back to Cali. I’ll put out feelers for camera operator gigs.”
“Camera operator?”
“I know you’re into the directing, but you’re a boss behind the camera too. I’d vouch for you anytime.”
“That’s not really—” Renee began, but stopped herself. She’d meant to say that she was interested in serious directing, and her priority was completing her MFA. But if Renee was honest with herself, that wasn’t true. Her thesis simply did not exist. It never really had. She couldn’t rightfully claim that it was a priority when she’d spent the last month ignoring Dragan’s messages.
The truth was, Renee hated her MFA program. The atmosphere of hypercritical destruction, the pressure to produce unwatchable art films, the toxic trauma-bonding among her cohort. In three years, she’d barely created anything that she actually liked. She’d barely created anythingat all.Alejandro had taught her more about the actual practice of filmmaking in a few months than Dragan ever had, and Alejandro had learned it all on the job.
“Actually, I might be into that,” Renee said.
They talked it through for an hour: what roles would fit Renee’s skills and interests, how to get jobs and join the union. Alejandro promised to connect her with some buddies who were working on their own projects on the side.
It wasn’t a plan, but it was a path she could take, if she wanted it.
THREE DAYS LATER, Renee withdrew from her MFA before the spring semester deadline. She’d talked it through with her mom and Dave. They agreed there was no shame in not finishing the degree if it wasn’t the right fit for her. Renee was aware that it was only possible to have this conversation at a sane emotional level because the money she’d made on Lola’s film had made a considerable dent in her debt, even without finishing out the contract. Still, the loans for her tuition were a mistake she’d bear the costs of for a very long time.
Her plan was to take a few months to save money, then head to L.A. and build up her industry experience. Her income from Prince’s wouldn’t be enough, so she put together a website for her own videography business. It would be temporary, but her rates were the lowest in the area, so she hoped to stay busy. Deborah had already set her up with a first gig at a bat mitzvah.
She forced herself to email Dragan. His reply was terse, mainly about administrative processes, and concluded with the very polite fuck-you ofI wish you the best. That was fair, Renee supposed. She really had wasted a lot of his time.
37
So let’s talk about concepts for the ‘Starcrossed’ music video,” said Eli, Lola’s new manager. It was mid-January, and they were in his office. With its exposed brick and extremely large number of well-tended plants, it could not have been more different from Gloriana’s glass box. “The song is doing fantastic. The leak created phenomenal buzz, and now that it’s officially released, the fans are living for it.”
Before firing Gloriana, she’d posted a clip from the “Starcrossed” demo on her social media as a bit of insurance: Jamie Alexander, or anyone else, couldn’t force her to change the lyrics once they were out in the world. She’d called Jamie a few hours later—the song was already viral on every app—and braced herself for his reaction, since leaking her own music was definitely crossing a line. To her surprise, he’d loved her “stunt” and her evolved sound, saying, in his unvarnished way, “It’s a little sexy. That’s good. You’ve been writing these love songs for virgins for too long.” He wanted it up on all the streaming services and a music video ASAP.
But first, Lola needed a new manager, fast. Eli had come on the recommendation of a few of her industry friends. She’d signed a contract with him not as a green seventeen-year-old, desperate for her break, but as a superstar. She’d paid Gloriana a grotesque sum to walk away from everything, including the ventures in which she’dhad partner status, like the production company. She’d lost everyone who had worked under Gloriana: her publicists, social media, creative consultants. Everyone except Cassidy, who’d stepped into a chief-of-staff role with aplomb.
