Page 93 of When I Picture You
The police had erected a barricade on the sidewalk to keep the fans and photographers back. Flashes popped in Renee’s vision as the paps demanded that Lola pose for them or comment on the breakup. Above their cries, Renee could hear the higher-pitched squeals of “Lola! I love you so much!” or “I drove from Vermont to see you!” Renee wished she had her own suit of armor to match Lola’s.
Then someone yelled, “Renee! Ohmigod, that’s Renee!”
Renee’s head snapped up reflexively.
“Renee, put us in the movie!” the girls cried over the whirr ofclicking shutters. Renee’s vision was blotted with the bluish afterburn of flashes.
“Renee, are you and Lola dating?” someone yelled.
Then Cassidy was yanking Renee into the car.
NIGHT ONE WASa dinner with some of Lola’s famous girlfriends. It was a stunt to show Lola thriving post-breakup, but Lola said she was genuinely looking forward to it. Lola had an hour to rest at her apartment before the glam squad arrived. She spent it in bed with Renee.
Renee’s leg was nestled between Lola’s thighs and her arm was splayed across Lola’s chest. Lola ran a lazy palm down the curve of Renee’s waist and settled it on the globe of her ass.
“Do you want to come to dinner?” Lola asked.
Renee nuzzled against her neck. “I can’t shoot four people with one camera. And the sound would be terrible.”
Lola inched back to peer at Renee, whose face was smushed half against the pillow and half against Lola’s shoulder. “Not to film. I want you to meet some of my friends.”
Suddenly, Renee felt more alert. She’d never actually agreed to meet anyone’s friends before—part of keeping it casual—although some girls had sprung it on her anyway. It never went well.
Renee did a quick review in her head to confirm that she hadn’t done to Lola any of the messed-up shit she normally did, like deliberately ignoring her (impossible, they worked together) or flirting with someone else in front of her (also impossible, Renee could barely look away from her). Lola’s friends had no reason to dislike her—unless, of course, she messed up at dinner and gave them one.
She wriggled her body against Lola’s. “What have you told them about me?”
She’d meant it playfully, but Lola winced.
Oh.
“I mean, are you out to any of them?” she asked instead.
“I am to Tatiana. I should warn you; she might give you a hard time. She thinks I have terrible taste in partners.”
“You do. With one exception,” Renee said.
“But I’ll have to introduce you to the others as a friend.” Renee could feel Lola’s body tensing up beneath her. “I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want to come—”
“Stop it. Of course I want to meet your friends.” Renee kissed the worried line of Lola’s mouth. “I just hope they don’t get jealous of all our slumber parties.”
AS SHE ANDLola strode past a photographer and into the glitzy Tribeca restaurant, Renee was a bundle of nerves. The restaurant was in a former bank, with towering Corinthian columns, dark green marble, and shiny gold accents everywhere. Following Lola’s security through the space, Renee felt insufficiently stylish in her trusty jumpsuit, which she’d have to wear to the gala tomorrow night too. At least no one was noticing her: Lola was wearing a figure-hugging dress that made her look like an angel sent from heaven to make Earth sexier, and heads turned as she passed by.
They were shown through a vault-like door two feet thick and into the former deposit box room. It had been converted into a private dining space, with part of the restaurant’s wine collection on display. Fancy, but a little claustrophobic. Lola’s friends were already seated: Carolina de Jong, a willowy half-Dutch, half-Chinese model with bright white hair slicked into a bun; Rosalie Thomas, a gorgeous actress who’d gotten her break as a Bond Girl then pivoted to producing to advocate for better roles for Latina actresses like herself; and Tatiana Jones, the mega-huge pop star positioned as the bad girl counterpoint to Lola’s squeaky-clean image.
Renee started to sweat. It was like being admitted to a secret meeting of the High Council of Hot Girls. Lola didn’t notice that Renee was out of place. She beamed as she explained how they’d grown up next door to each other and reconnected exactly when Lola needed an up-and-coming director. Working with someone who’d known her for so long had unlocked her creative process and allowed her to be so much more in tune with herself. Lola was looking at Renee with stars in her eyes, and Renee blushed at the praise. If Lola had stopped talking for more than a few seconds, Renee would have kissed her.
Well, not actually. But she damn sure wanted to.
The waiter took their orders—Renee chose a frilly little salad because she wasn’t sure who was paying and wanted to avoid financial ruin—and excused herself to the restroom. Outside the vault, the air felt looser. She took a deep breath while someone’s bodyguard pointed her in the direction of the private restroom. Before the bathroom door had swung closed, it was shoved back open and Tatiana Jones pushed her way in.
Renee stepped back. “Um—I think this one’s single occupancy?”
Tatiana trapped Renee with a hard stare. “I want to have a talk with you. About Lola.”
“Sure,” Renee said nervously. A lot of things had gone wrong in her meet-the-friends history, but she’d never been cornered in a bathroom.
Tatiana was not a large person, but with her mane of wavy blonde hair and the double-breasted blazer she was wearing as a minidress, she had more than enough attitude to crowd the small space. It was obvious that Tatiana did not smile unnecessarily—the kind of person who has a bad side. She leaned against the sink, leaving Renee standing in the middle of the marble floor.
