by Naomi West
Butch sat up a little straighter in the driver’s seat. “If it means I won’t have to listen to your whining anymore, then yeah.”
“All right, you two! I’ve got enough going on without any of your drama. Shut up, stay quiet, and just wait here!” If she hadn’t wanted to get out of the car before, she sure did now.
Lola swung her long legs out of the back of the rented sedan and headed up the sidewalk she had once known so well. As always, her father was keeping the lawn a perfect carpet of green. There wasn’t a dandelion or poky bit of crabgrass to be found. The flowerbeds that lined the front porch were weeded and clean, with fresh mulch around the azaleas.
It was a stately home, one far nicer than most of the places in Rolling Hills. Her friends had always wanted to come to her house because she had the nicest room and the biggest backyard. There was never a shortage of food in the pantry, and the towels in the bathroom were always clean and smelled of fabric softener.
Even so, her stomach churned as she raised her fist to knock on the door. It had been her childhood home, but she didn’t dare just walk in unannounced. Lola waited, holding her breath until the big red door swung open.
The short woman in the doorway blinked her brown eyes at Lola, not quite processing who the visitor was. She ran her fingertips through her spikes of brown hair. “Laura?”
“Hello, Mother.” Lola shifted from foot to foot, wishing her mother would just let her in already. If they gave this too much time, the neighbors would start watching through their windows. They probably already were.
Mrs. Dodson blinked again. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Lola asked through gritted teeth.
“Of course, of course.” Her mother opened the door a little bit wider and admitted her into the big house.
Nothing had changed. The living room still had the overstuffed furniture that looked as though it had come straight from the showroom floor. The ornate floor lamp her mother had picked up at an expensive estate sale stood tall and straight near the couch, and the pale carpet was spotless. The only difference Lola noted was that the old tube television had been replaced by a massive flat-screen. “You got a new TV.”
“Take your shoes off!” Mrs. Dodson barked. “Or have you forgotten all the rules now that you’re a star?”
Biting her lip, Lola stepped out of her shoes and left them on the tile floor of the foyer. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“That’s what you’re going to apologize for?” her mother demanded. “Not the fact that you ran off without a word, or that we only know what’s happening in your life when we watch the entertainment segment on the news? Or maybe that you sing such disgusting lyrics that aren’t appropriate?”
Lola forced a smile. She wasn’t always satisfied with the lyrics her producer put together, but her contract dictated that she do it anyway. And that wasn’t important right now. “I heard about Dad.”
Mrs. Dodson put her fist on her hip. “What news is that?”
“You know, Mom. About Dad’s heart.” The grapevine still worked quite well in Rolling Hills, and even though she was no longer friends from anyone here, it wasn’t hard to find out what was happening.
Her mother’s lips tightened. “Well, what about it?”
“Is it so hard to imagine that I might want to come home and make sure you guys are doing okay?” Lola was starting to think she had made a mistake. She hadn’t expected her parents to throw their arms around her and cry over how much they had missed her, but neither had she expected such outright venom.
“And just what are you going to do about it?” Mrs. Dodson replied. “We’re doing just fine, and we don’t need any help from you.”
“Angela?” came a familiar voice from the kitchen. “Who’s here?”
“Don’t worry about it, George!” his wife called back, still glaring at Lola. “I’ve got it handled.”
But George Dodson wasn’t satisfied with the answer, and he soon came through the door with a plated sandwich in hand. His mouth fell open, his loose jowls jiggling slightly, and he nearly dropped the plate. “Laura?”
“Actually, it’s Lola now. At least, that’s how everyone knows me. How are you feeling?” She had spotted the tenderness in his eyes at seeing his daughter again. Maybe her mother didn’t appreciate her coming home, but at least her father did.
Mr. Dodson’s mouth worked for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he spoke as his face started to redden. “How am I feeling?” he repeated. “How am I feeling? I’m feeling like I’m seeing a ghost of my daughter who died six years ago, except now she’s come back from the dead as a whore! Just look at those clothes! You can’t prance around here like that! This isn’t Hollywood!”
Lola resisted the urge to cover her body with her hands. This was conservative compared to what she usually wore onstage. “It’s nice to see you, too,” she said with a scowl. “I wanted to come home and see how you were doing. I know I didn’t leave on the best terms, but I thought after all these years we could sit down and talk like adults. It’s clear to me that I’m the only one who’s matured.”
“Don’t you dare talk to us like that, young lady!” Mr. Dodson shook his finger in the air. “We did everything for you, and you repay us by prancing around on a stage like some slut. Don’t come back here thinking we’re going to hand you the Daughter of the Year award!”
“George! Sit down and eat your sandwich!” Mrs. Dodson stepped between the two of them, her hands out like a referee. “Laura, you’re upsetting your father. He can’t handle that in his current condition.”
“My condition is fine!” Mr. Dodson argued. “It’s just a kink in the old ticker. The doc put me on some pills, so I’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal.”
As much as she was hating this entire conversation, Lola was glad to hear that at least things might not have been as bad as they seemed. “Don’t you guys even want to talk to me? Or would you rather just stand around yelling. I can leave just as easily as I did before, you know.”
“Oh, we know!” Mrs. Dodson stood ramrod straight in front of her daughter. “You didn’t exactly see us chasing you down, now did you? If you were going to be such an ungrateful little child, then there was no point in bringing you back under our roof just so you could gloat about your time in Hollywood. We’re good people, and we don’t deserve the kind of treatment you’ve given us.” With her chin in the air, Lola’s mother crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“I should have known.” Tears threatened, burning the backs of her eyes, but Lola wouldn’t dare let them fall. She was a singer, but a large part of her job involved acting. She had learned to pretend to be confident even when she was completely insecure, and how to stay calm when she was terrified inside. That meant she could also act like she didn’t give two shits what her parents thought about her, even though she felt her heart shrivel and die inside. “If you want to be jealous that I got out of this backwater and made something of myself without you, then fine. I’ll stay out of your way.” Turning on her heel, she headed for the door. Storming out wasn’t quite so impressive when you had to stop and slide your shoes back on, but she did it anyway and slammed the front door behind her.
Lola had already booked her flight back to California, but her ticket wasn’t good for two weeks. It wouldn’t have been all that difficult to have it changed or even to buy a new one. After all, she had plenty of money. The hard work she’d put in on recording her albums, touring exhaustively, and cranking out loads of music videos for the Internet world to eat up had truly paid off. She was sure that ordinary people who made a fraction of her paycheck didn’t work nearly as hard, but that was the life of a celebrity and she had grabbed it by the shorthairs.
But something told her that she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. Maybe it was the distinct feeling that her father wasn’t as well off as he made it sound. Maybe, secretly, she hoped her parents would change their minds, track her down, and invite
her home for dinner. It was a nice fantasy, but an unlikely one. Either way, she slumped into the backseat of the rental car and slammed the door. “Let’s go find a bar.”
Butch started the engine, but Chris turned around with a grin. He had straight white teeth that contrasted his olive skin, and his hair was always perfectly combed. “Sounds like things didn’t go so well?”
“Shut up.” Butch gave a warning mumble from behind the wheel. “You’re not being professional.”
“You know, you act like the security company belongs to you,” Chris spat. “We spend all our time with her, and we’re supposed to just act like we don’t notice the huff she’s in? Come on, man. That’s not real.” Chris looked at Lola and rolled his eyes, clearly thinking he was in the right.
“Just shut up,” Lola confirmed as she turned to look out the window. Even if Chris had been her best friend instead of her bodyguard, she probably wouldn’t have told him anything. There was nothing to be proud of when it came to the way things were with her parents. She hadn’t been good enough for them when she had tried so hard to be perfect, and she still wasn’t good enough as a celebrity.
Her phone beeped. It was a text from Brittany Bell, her makeup artist. The two of them had worked together as soon as Lola had been picked up by her record label, and they had instantly become friends. Lola had been thrilled to find someone she could hang out with, since she hadn’t known anyone when she arrived in California. Victor, Butch, and Chris knew where she was going, but only Brittany knew why.
How did it go?
Shitty, Lola typed back. I should never have come here.
The reply came back instantly. I’m sorry, honey. It’ll be okay.
Yeah. I’m going to get a drink. There’s only one crappy little bar in this town, but it’ll have to be good enough.
She was stuck between two worlds, and she contemplated that as the bottom of her second margarita glass became visible. She was no longer the innocent girl she had been when she’d left Rolling Hills, but neither did she want to be. Even though the world now viewed her as a pop sensation, she knew that most of that life was fake. There was no in-between, no balance, no happy medium. Lola was floating along through her days, just following the schedule her manager had made out for her. There had to be something more.
With a sigh, Lola pulled her phone out of her purse and opened her news app. They were always talking about her somewhere, and she had made it her business to know what the media had to say. Though she would never admit it to anyone else, she took the online criticisms very seriously. How else was she to improve her performance and her career if she didn’t know what people thought or wanted? Sure, there was always someone who was bitching about her skimpy outfits or her sexual lyrics, but there wasn’t anything Lola could do about that. Sex sold, and the numbers proved it. She ignored the sound of her impromptu audience and clicked on the latest headlines.
Chapter Three
Bishop
Bishop, like the rest of the people in the bar, was having a hard time keeping his eyes off Lola. She was absolutely delicious, and he had to find a way to be with her. She was a celebrity, after all, and that’s how they did things. They found someone they thought was good looking, banged them, and moved on with their lives. Lola had her phone out now, a bored look on her face as she scrolled.
“All right,” Sluice said from his barstool. “I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re planning something. You might as well let me in on it now.”
Bishop grinned. His men knew him well, and that was part of why the Cobra Kings ran so smoothly. “Here’s the deal: I’m not too worried about the bodyguards. Between you and me and a couple of our other men in here, we could take them down, no problem. But there are cameras everywhere, and the last thing I need is for one of our brothers to be recorded doing something he shouldn’t.”
Sluice nodded, understanding. “And you’ve got to find some way to get rid of them if you want to get to Lola.” He stroked his straggly goatee as he thought. “What do you propose?”
“Distract one of them. Get him to go outside. Hell, maybe that will work with both of them. But we’ve got to separate the girl from the goons.”
Snapping his fingers, Sluice’s eyes sparked with an idea. “They’ve got a car parked outside. We can go for that.”
“Good man.” Bishop slapped him on the back. “Get on that.”
The vice president moved off to speak to a couple of the other men, and only a few minutes later the sound of a car alarm came from outside. The tall, handsome bodyguard reacted, breaking his guardian stance and running for the front door, shouting.
Bishop laughed to himself. It had worked, but the big bald guy was going to be more difficult than the young one, for sure. He bided his time, pretending he was just there for his beer. With a little bit of luck, he would get his chance.
Sure enough, the bald guy soon realized that his companion wasn’t coming back. He kept glancing anxiously toward the front door of the bar, but Bishop already knew what had happened to the man without even looking. The Cobra Kings had dispatched him. They hadn’t hurt him, not seriously, but he wouldn’t be able to perform his duties for at least a day or two.
“Hey!” the bald man shouted at the bartender. “We’ve got to get these people out of here. I’ve got a situation on my hands.” He began moving toward the door, herding the crowd in front of him as he went.
Jimmy jumped to the rescue, pulling several wet floor signs out from behind the bar. He set them up between the edge of the bar and the booths, blocking off the back corner of the establishment where Lola sat. Surprisingly enough, the crowd didn’t just knock them down and come barreling through. This was Rolling Hills, after all. “There you go! I’ll stick around and make sure everything’s okay.”
The security man gave him a dubious look and then glanced at his boss. She gave him a curt, upward nod with her chin, telling him to go. Her eyes immediately went back to her phone. She didn’t have a care in the world for what was going on. It must be nice.
Bishop gave the big man just enough time to get out the door before he got up from his barstool and swung over the bar. Jimmy watched him from his place near the wet floor signs, his eyes worried, but he didn’t say anything. There was now plenty of room around Lola and nobody to tell him to stay back. Jimmy could try, but both of them knew that if it came down to it, the biker would come out on top.
There was something about her that Bishop couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the way her hair fell across her face, hiding one of those big beautiful eyes until she swiped it out of the way. The killer body definitely didn’t hurt. But she was unbelievably attractive, like something out of a fantasy. Real people weren’t like that. They had flaws, and even though they did their best to hide them, they always came out. She was bright and clean against the dirty brick wall behind her and the torn cushion of the booth bench underneath her, her skin glowing even in the dim light. Lola exuded such confidence and distance, and Bishop was sure that it drove most people away. It just made him want her more. He slid into the booth next to her.
Lola looked up, setting the phone down on the beaten wood tabletop. She sat up straight but she made no move to get away from him. “Can I help you?”
Her voice was like silk, and Bishop instantly understood why people paid her to sing. He hadn’t heard a note, but he didn’t need to. If her speaking voice was that luxurious, then she could probably put thousands of people under her spell with a concert. “I like to think I’m helping you. Here you are, in a strange town, with a whole crowd of people just desperate to lay their hands on you. Your bodyguards have run off and left you with a scrawny barkeeper to defend you. I think I know my position here.”
“Figures a guy like you would want to talk about positions,” she countered. Her azure eyes darted over his leather vest, his faded tattoos, the studs in his ears. “I wouldn’t have thought there were any bikers in this one-horse town. Or is it Halloween and I forgot
to dress up?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
Flames danced under his skin. He liked watching her full mouth as she spoke, wondering what those pink lips would look like on his body. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “I’m the real deal, and in fact I’m the president of the Cobra Kings. We run this town, so if you want to stay safe you’ll stick with me.”
“It’s nice to see you’re so humble,” she jabbed. “But I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. These fans are nothing compared to the ones I’m used to. Hell, they won’t even jump a little piece of plastic to get to me. They must not be all that crazy about me.”
“I think they are,” Bishop replied. His throat was tightening. Every sense was going off like an alarm. She looked good, sounded good, smelled good. He couldn’t yet know what she tasted like, but he could easily imagine it. As for feel, well, there was only one way to find out. “They’re just too polite to do anything about it. Me, on the other hand, I’ve found that manners never got me anywhere.”
He slid his hand across the small space between them until it met the warmth of her thigh. If he had to stand up anytime soon, he would be in trouble. Lola’s skin was as smooth as her voice, and the muscle underneath it well-toned. Bishop felt his breath coming on faster as he tuned out the sound of the fans. Sure, everyone was watching. But he didn’t care. He had to have her. He was going to have her.
