Page 21 of When I Picture You
Lola had pivoted. Renee had lived next door while Lola was writingSeventeen Candles. They’d gone trick-or-treating together as kids, done extra credit projects for physics class together. The Feldmans’ house had been like a second home. That history would set the film apart. Veronika got on board, but Micah had worried that Renee simply lacked the experience for this kind of job. “Then you can help her!” Lola had suggested, a little desperately. “Isn’t that what producers do?”
Gloriana had relented. They’d go with Renee, under Micah’s supervision. After all, Gloriana had added, delivering the film on time was more important than producing something good.
Now, as the seconds ticked by, Lola felt less and less ready to see Renee again. She’d spent much of the week reminding herself that working with Renee would be completely fine. Better than fine—really good! Lola had told Renee that things would be purely professional, and Renee had cut her off in her rush to agree. Not that it took a psychic to figure out Renee’s feelings: you didn’t slip out after sex without saying goodbye if you liked someone.
The problem was, Lola caught herself thinking about Renee, and not just reliving memories of their hookup. Over lunch, she’d find herself wondering if Renee would scoff at the idea of salad for every meal, and soon she’d be imagining Renee skimming a menu, her gaze flitting to Lola’s at a tucked-away table. She’d lay awake, alone in bed, wondering if Renee slept naked and whether she liked to be the big or little spoon, and how it might feel for Renee to push her down into the mattress.
Just then, a receptionist led Renee, with her suitcase and backpack, up to the conference room. Her platinum hair was the only point of light in her all-black outfit: unzipped hoodie over a clingy racerback tank, work pants, thick-soled boots. The outfit was as poorly suited to August in Los Angeles as it was to a professional meeting—but it was incredibly well-suited to Renee.
Lola’s breathing went shallow as self-consciousness crowded into her body. What her face was doing, how she was holding herself, did she look normal? It was not only that Renee would see her, but also that Gloriana would see her see Renee—Gloriana, who’d asked why the director Lola had suggested sounded familiar. She’d found Renee’s name on the signed NDA and demanded, in the delicate way that Gloriana made demands, an explanation. It was too late for second thoughts. Renee walked through the glass door—and hooked the wheel of her suitcase on its edge.
Renee’s bag fell to the floor with a tremendoussmack, as she stumbled, breaking her fall across the nearest thing to her, which was Lola’s lap. Below her, Renee was on her knees, her fingers splayed over the skirt that was taut across Lola’s thighs, her breasts pressing into Lola’s bare legs. The green eyes that met Lola’s were rounded with shock, the mouth just slightly open, the full lower lip pushing forward. Lola could simply reach down, run her thumb across that lip. Maybe Renee would take it into her mouth—
Gloriana cleared her throat like the overseer at a girls’ reform school.
Renee scrambled up.
“Are you all right?” Lola asked. Her heart was beating everywhere, down to the tips of her fingers.
“Completely.” Renee didn’t look at Lola as she took the seat beside her, but her cheeks were pink. “Sorry I’m late. The traffic was wild.”
“A classic L.A. welcome!” Gloriana said. “Renee, we’re incredibly excited to have you on board.”
They did introductions, with each team member echoing how truly incredible that excitement was, even as they eyed Renee warily.
“Welcome to Team Lola!” Gloriana said. “Let’s talk goals for this project. After four enormously successful albums, Lola has taken some time away from the spotlight.”
Lola fixed her eyes on the eco-friendly straw biodegrading into her latte. Lola knew how it sounded when someone in her position “took time away.” At best, it was ungrateful: her dad had worked hard his whole life, and until Lola started making real money, he’d never been able totake time awayfrom long-haul trucking. At worst, it made people think she’d needed rehab or had some kind of breakdown; addiction and mental health issues were legitimate medical problems for normal people, but for celebrities, they were juicy scandals.
Although, Lola supposed, she hadn’t beenthatfar from a mental breakdown, after Ava. If things had gone differently, Album 5 would have already come out, full of the perfect, honest love songs she’d written.
Lola herself would have already come out, with a girlfriend beside her.
But without Ava, there had been no reason for any of it: not to come out, or record those songs, or even force herself out of bed.
Which was how she ended up here, listening to Gloriana tell Renee that the world needed to be reminded that Lola Gray existed and that they loved her. Sitting through a meeting like that was a very effective way to make yourself feel unloved.
“We—and Streamy—want something accessible and authentic, but fun. Nothing controversial,” Gloriana was saying. “Fans should feel like we’re peeling back the skin on their favorite pop star, and letting them see that, underneath, she’s a regular girl, just like them.”
“Peel Lola’s skin back,” Renee echoed as she scribbled in her notebook. “I wasn’t expecting the horror angle, but it could be really fresh.”
Lola nearly choked on the last sip of her latte.
“That’s funny.” Gloriana gave Renee a tolerant smile. “We want viewers to feel that closeness you have with a sister or a best friend.”
“Which is why it is so phenomenal to have you on board,” Veronika chimed in. “Lola’s childhood best friend behind the camera is a storyline in itself.So muchwe can do from a publicity perspective.”
“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” Gloriana said, “Renee, you’ll be working very, very closely with Micah. We know this shoot is a big lift for you—a little beyond your previous experience, I’m sure you’dagree—so Micah’s here to take the pressure off. From technical questions, to pulling together a product that Streamy will be happy with, and hitting that deadline—he’s your guy.”
Renee shot a wary glance at Micah. “My guy?”
“Exactly!” Gloriana said. “Micah, the floor is yours.”
“This is the shooting schedule.” Micah passed a folder across the table to Renee.
“You already prepped this?” she asked.
Micah’s man-bun bobbed as he nodded. “We need to hit the ground running.”
