Page 34 of When I Picture You
“I’ve met plenty of people. Sex doesn’t always have to mean something. But the sapphics, right? They get so attached. You must know how it is.”
Lola didn’t know what to say. There was a deep-buried part of herthat ached to hear Renee talk so casually about sex. It basically confirmed that their night together meant nothing. But far more urgent was an electric thrill of recognition. Lola couldn’t remember the last time she had a conversation with a woman like this, where liking women felt normal, not a challenge to outfox, or a very brave choice, or worse, a fatal vulnerability. Renee simply knew Lola liked women and treated her accordingly. It probably meant nothing to Renee, but to Lola it felt miraculous.
“Yeah, for sure,” Lola said. “I’m, uh, usually the one getting too attached.”
Renee perked up at that. “Oh yeah?”
Lola’s throat felt tight, but this wasRenee. If she couldn’t talk to Renee about this, how would she ever talk to anyone? “That’s what happened with my last … girlfriend.”
“Was that …?”
“Ava.” Her voice was thin. Thankfully, Renee had leaned in, her shoulders hunched up like they were having a top-secret conference. Which, Lola supposed, they kind of were. “You probably saw the rumors.”
“I happened across them, yes,” Renee said. “So, you guys were for real?”
“I thought so.” Lola took a sharp breath, then said, “I thought I was in love with her, but I guess I got too attached, like you said. Actually, I wanted to go public.”
“You did? Like, with everything?”
Lola nodded, her eyes on the tablecloth. She’d torn the cocktail umbrella entirely to shreds. “I thought that would make her happy. Because we could really be together. I had a whole album I wanted to record about her. And then she left me.”
“Damn. I’m sorry, Lo. That’s awful.”
“It’s okay. It was a while ago now. But I had to shelve the album and that’s why it’s been so long since I’ve released anything.”
“Which is why you’re doing the doc.”
“Right.”
“Which means, in a weird way, that your breakup is really responsible for our whole friend-reunion film-collaboration thing.”
Lola laughed in spite of herself. “I guess it does.”
“And what about coming out? Do you want to talk about it?” Renee asked.
Lola didn’t have it in her to explain. She just shook her head.
Renee’s hand was creeping across the table toward Lola’s, with her eyebrows rumpled sympathetically. Suddenly Lola knew that Renee would listen to her talk about Ava all night, if Lola needed her to. Or take her dancing, or sit through an ice cream–fueledSex and the Citymarathon, or whatever else Lola asked. Privately grieving all that she’d lost with the relationship had been so hard, so isolating—but now that she had someone to share it with, she wasn’t sure she needed it anymore.
“I just want to forget it ever happened,” Lola said.
“I got you, my star.” Renee looked around for the waitress. “Where’s that cocktail menu?”
12
Lola pushed her voice for the last bar of “Part of Me” as her guitar reverberated with the final chord. She was perched on a stool, one heel on the crossbar. As she let her voice soar through the song’s end, she set her guitar down in a waiting stand and grabbed the bedazzled mic. She reminded herself not to break eye contact with the audience, to keep that connection. Her backing band shifted into a different key for the opening of “Wish I Never Met You” as Lola strutted over to the piano. She began the first verse on time, but shoving the mic into the stand took a fraction of a second too long. By the time her fingers were on the keys, she missed her cue.
She cut the song off. The band went quiet.
“I was late. I’m sorry,” she called out. Lola balled her hands into fists, then released the tension before shoving herself off the piano bench.
“Barely,” called Simone, Lola’s performance coach, from the middle of the soundstage where they’d been rehearsing for the Denver Corkscrew Fest. “Come take a look at the video.”
“Late is late,” Lola said flatly, adjusting the white patent go-go boots she’d wear for the performance. On top, she wore shorts and a crop top. “This transition has to be right or we’re cutting it.”
“We’re not cutting it; the fans are going to love it,” Simone said. “They go crazy for ‘Wish.’”
Lola settled her guitar over her shoulder again. “That’s why it has to be perfect. Let’s take it from the last chorus.”
