by Naomi West
Lydia brought his meal a moment later. “I went ahead and got you that slice of pie. It’s the last one I’ve got left, and someone would have ordered it out from under your nose if I had waited until you were done eating.”
“Thanks, Lydia. I appreciate it.”
“No problem, sugar.” She bustled back to the kitchen.
The table behind Bishop was packed with more of Lola’s fans, and they were singing her praises. “Can you believe that she actually came back here?” a young woman squealed. “Maybe Rolling Hills is about to become the new getaway for celebrities. I really should have gone into journalism, and then maybe I would get to meet her.”
“No way. None of us could get near her.” The reply was a man’s voice. “She’s the hottest thing right now, and you don’t exactly see her setting up photo ops for us regular folks.”
“I just think it’s a shame that everyone is after her all the time like they are.” This came from a different man, a much quieter one. “I bet she just wants to have a private life like everyone else does.”
“Why do you care, Ernie?” a woman asked. “You think you’re going to just find her at the hotel, whisk her off her feet, and enchant her with your boring life as a car salesman?”
“She might like it more than you think,” Ernie argued. “Celebrities all start off as normal people, after all.”
Curious, Bishop stood up and stepped to a different table, pretending to need the saltshaker even though the one on his table had plenty in it. He cast a glance at those who were talking about Lola.
“And just because you see things about her in the media doesn’t mean it’s true,” the man continued. He had pale brown hair that clung limply to his scalp and glasses with thick lenses. “For all we know, she just wants to settle down and have a family instead of jet setting and being stalked by crazy fans.”
“Ernie, you’re full of shit,” said the other man, who was considerably better looking. “Besides, if these rumors are true, then someone has already knocked her up. I wonder what lucky bastard got to fuck her.”
It was tempting to interrupt their conversation and let them know that he was that lucky bastard, but they probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. Everyone was trying to grab a slice of Lola’s fame right now, and he didn’t want to look like one of them. Frustrated, Bishop sat back down and dug into his food. He thought for a moment about the idea that the child might be his. There was always the chance that Lola had been honest with him. After all, they had done the deed. Just because she dressed provocatively on stage didn’t mean she was a slut.
What would life be like with a little boy toddling around the garage, picking up wrenches and pretending to work on motorcycles, babbling to himself while Bishop taught him what it really meant to be a man? He would have a chance to do what his father never had done for him. Bishop could encourage the boy and let him grow into his own person, not just living and getting by but thriving.
Or maybe it would be a beautiful blonde baby girl with big blue eyes like her mother, a fierce toddler who fooled people with her beauty until she opened her mouth and told them just what she thought. Bishop would be stern with her and tell her to be nice, but he and Lola would laugh behind their hands about how terrified adults were of her. Bishop had seen the shy, insecure part of Lola, but he had also seen the spitfire in her, and he could easily see that coming out in a child born of the two of them.
But, no. He couldn’t let himself think like that. Lola had said the baby was his, but she’d never said she wanted to settle down and make a family with him. What would a star like her do with a baby? Leave the poor child with him while she went flying off on a world tour? Or maybe she would just hire a nanny and leave him completely out of the picture. They were from completely different worlds. Maybe Lola had grown up in Rolling Hills, but she definitely wasn’t from here anymore.
There was no way of knowing if the child was actually his or not, and he wouldn’t let Lola fool him into thinking he was the father just because it was the easy thing for her to do. It could just as easily belong to Chris. No matter what Lola said, Bishop had seen the way the man looked at her. The way Chris fucked her with his eyes suggested that he had fucked her with his body as well, and Bishop didn’t like it. He would be a fool if he dismissed it and blindly accepted Lola’s word, no matter how good of a lay she was.
Bishop finished his meal and headed back to the clubhouse. He had business to take care of, and it was time to put Lola behind him. He just needed the rest of the townspeople to do the same.
Chapter Eighteen
Lola
The night had been a quiet one. As much as Lola needed the rest, she had been hoping it wouldn’t be. She had held her breath in bed, waiting for Bishop to call and apologize or find a way to break into her hotel room and ravish her once again. He would apologize for being such an ass, beg her to forgive him, and then they would sit down and figure out just what they were going to do about the baby.
She had no doubt in her mind that she was keeping it. Pregnancy would restrict her stage time after a few months, but she could use a vacation. Lola could do what countless other celebrities had done and sell the first photos of her child to the highest bidder which would continue her income stream even if she wasn’t actively touring or recording.
But she didn’t want to have to do this alone. Her status and her wealth meant that she could hire help, but that wasn’t the same as having the father of her child at her side, even if it was only part-time. But since Bishop didn’t want to have anything to do with her anymore, that just wasn’t possible. Lola had once again made her own decisions, and she was the only person who would have to deal with them. And fortunately, she was heading back to California in the afternoon, which was surprisingly a much more peaceful place to deal with things than Rolling Hills was.
A knock sounded on the door that led into the next suite. “Good morning, sunshine! Are you ready for makeup yet?”
Lola picked up the extra pillow on the bed and put it over her face. “No.”
“You don’t even sound like you’re out of bed.”
“I’m not.”
Brittany opened the door and charged into the room. She was already completely ready, her makeup and hair perfect. But of course, that was the benefit of being a makeup artist. She yanked the covers off the bed and pulled Lola into an upright position. “Things aren’t going to get any better if you just lie there. Come on. The sooner you get up and get ready, the sooner we can get out of here.”
There was some truth in what she said, and so Lola consented to taking a quick shower. She sat in a chair in front of the mirror and let Brittany style her hair and dab layers of foundation and eyeshadow on her face. “Nothing too fancy today.”
“Don’t tell me you’re just going for the jeans and T-shirt look again. I hope I haven’t ruined your sense of style.”
“It’s not that. I’ve got some things to do before we head to the airport, and I don’t want to look like I’m ready to go onstage.”
Brittany smiled and picked up her eyeshadow palette. “Not a problem! I’m as flexible as a contortionist when it comes to makeup styles.”
An hour later, with skin that almost looked airbrushed and subtle shades of blue and brown around her eyes, Lola showed up at the hospital once again. Since everyone already knew she was here, she consented to letting Butch come with her. He was the only bodyguard she had left, and he hadn’t had any luck in finding someone local to help out.
Butch followed behind her at a courteous distance, watching over her without interfering. He waited outside her father’s hospital room when she went in, and Lola found that she was almost comforted by his presence. Butch wasn’t a perfect person. He worked too closely with Vic when it came to managing her and making decisions for her, but he always did it out of a genuine concern. He and Brittany just might be the only people she could still rely on.
“What are you doing back here?” Mrs. Dodson snapped as Lo
la shut the door behind her. “I thought I made my feelings quite clear.”
“That’s always been a particular talent of yours, Mom,” Lola said with a gracious smile. “And I like to think that I’ve inherited at least a few of your genes so that I can do the same thing.”
“If you’re just here to upset your father, then you can turn around and leave. There’s nothing you have to say that we want to hear.”
Lola pressed her lips together. It was hard to keep her temper in front of her mom, but she would have to for just a little bit longer. “I think you might want to.”
Mrs. Dodson started to protest once again, but her husband interrupted. “Just let her speak,” he said softly. “There’s nothing she can say to hurt me, Angela.”
When they seemed ready to listen, Lola started in. She knew she had to get it all out at once, or she might never have a chance to say the words again. “I want the two of you to know that I’m pregnant. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wasn’t expected. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy about it. I plan to bring this child into the world and raise it to live a healthy and happy life. I know you guys don’t really want to have anything to do with me. But just as you, Mom, felt an obligation to tell me about Dad’s heart attack, I feel an obligation to tell you about your grandchild.”
“Who’s the father?”
Lola had paused just long enough to let him get that question in. Seeing her own father lying there, with the white sheets puckered around him and the numerous wires sticking out of his hospital gown, Lola couldn’t deny him an answer to his question. Not quite, anyway. “A friend of mine.” It seemed a better answer than explaining the random biker whom she’d become entangled with the last time she’d come home. There was a level of complication to that which she knew her parents wouldn’t want to hear.
She cleared her throat, trying to get back on track. “My plane leaves this afternoon. I know you don’t want me around, and I don’t plan to come back. If you’re interested in seeing your grandchild, then it will be up to you to do something about it. You won’t receive any updates or invitations from me. I’ll stay out of your lives, just like you want me to.”
“Laura,” Mrs. Dodson said, coming around the edge of the bed to stand in front of her daughter. With her hands clasped in front of her and a crease wrinkling her forehead, she almost looked motherly. “You know, you do have options.”
Of course it would have to be something like that. Lola wasn’t asking for her parents to help raise the child or even give her money to support it. She didn’t ask for their opinions, but here was her mother’s, right out in the open. “No, I don’t. I’ve already made my decision. You might not like it, but there’s nothing you can do about it.” She turned to her father. “I hope you feel better soon.” With that, she turned and left the room.
Lola stormed past Butch, but he instantly followed her. He stayed a few feet behind her up until they got on the elevator. She watched the numbers tick down as he quietly asked, “Are you all right?”
She sighed. “No. But I will be.”
And she was determined that her statement would be true. There were women in much worse positions than hers who had wound up pregnant, women with no support and no money. She might not have much support, but she had all the money she needed for medical care, lactation specialists, baby clothes, and diapers. There would be no problem setting up a nursery in her lavish home and hiring someone to babyproof the place. If she had to let a nanny take care of her son or daughter while she worked, then so be it. As she continued to remind herself, it could always be worse.
Once back in her hotel room, with her bodyguards doing their duty in the hallway, Lola explained the entire scenario to Brittany as she angrily threw her belongings into her designer luggage. “You should have seen the look on their faces. Mom looked like she might just keel over and die, but who is she to say? She didn’t even want me, so of course she’s going to suggest that I get rid of the baby.”
“That’s awful,” Brittany sympathized, pausing to touch up her lip gloss in the mirror. “What about your dad?”
Lola shrugged. “He didn’t have a whole lot to say, but he’s not feeling well. I don’t think he was as upset, but the situation might have been different if he was on his feet and in his own house. Either way, they’re definitely not proud of me. I told them they would have to make the arrangements themselves if they were interested in getting to know their grandchild. But I highly doubt they will. They like to pretend they don’t have a daughter, and now they can pretend that they don’t have a grandkid, either.”
“Well, I’m proud of you for standing up to them,” Brittany enthused. “I know that can’t have been easy.” She locked the clasps on her rolling makeup case and parked it by the door where it would be ready when they left.
“No, but it seems like that’s the only thing I do anymore. It’s just confrontation after confrontation, and I’m getting sick of it. I think it’s wearing me down.” Or maybe that was just the growing child inside her. The days of staying up late drinking and skipping breakfast were going to be a thing of the past now. It all just needed to slow down a little bit, and then maybe it would be okay.
“We’ll get you some good prenatal vitamins when we get back to civilization.” Brittany smiled and picked up another bag. “That’ll make a big difference.” She moved across the room to the closet, double-checking it for anything Lola might have left behind. “So,” she said after a moment, “how did things go with the father of the child?”
Closing her eyes, Lola rubbed her temples. “Let’s just say it didn’t go any better than things did with my parents.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
It was tempting. Her time with Bishop had been the one thing Lola had kept to herself. At first, it had seemed like a fun secret, one she could reflect on without the public knowing anything about it. But now it was so much more complicated. Bishop didn’t want to have anything to do with her. He didn’t believe her, and he didn’t trust her. Moreover, he hadn’t even shown any interest in the baby. No, saying it all out loud would just make it more real, and she was ready to put it all behind her. “Maybe later.”
Lola’s phone dinged from her back pocket. She dreaded checking it, but she couldn’t help herself. She pulled it out and clicked the screen, opening a news app. Stepping backward until she could collapse onto the bed, Lola couldn’t take her eyes off what she was seeing.
“What is it?”
“It’s … everything.” She continued to scroll, skimming the headlines as they flicked past. Every news and entertainment outlet had released something about her within the last twenty-four hours. They talked not only about her arrival in Rolling Hills (which wasn’t a surprise at this point) but about her pregnancy and the fight at The Dive. “I don’t get it. Does someone have a GPS tracker on me or a hidden camera? It’s like they know everything about me as it happens. Is there no such thing as privacy anymore?”
“Let me see.” Brittany took the phone from her hand and studied it for a moment. “What do you expect? You’re a hot item right now, and people talk. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together. Just think of it as extra publicity and try not to let it bother you.” She handed the device back.
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with her entire life reduced to headlines and speculation. Look at this article. They’re saying the baby must be Vic’s! That’s so disgusting!”
“Makes the ones about Chris sound positively romantic,” Brittany said with a giggle. “At least he’s young and good-looking.”
“And a total ass.” It was time to go, but Lola couldn’t stop reading. She landed on an article that talked about the fight, and now Bishop was getting involved as well. He had refused to speak to the press when they asked him for a comment, but that didn’t stop the rumors from flying that he was something more than a patron who happened to be in the bar at the same time.
Sources at the scene say that the
bodyguard and the biker immediately jumped into a fight with each other, but nobody is quite sure why. There’s speculation that Bishop Blaine may have tried to sexually harass Ms. Lennox, but we have no evidence of that just yet.
“What ever happened to real journalism?” Lola mused. “It used to be that reporters were supposed to find out the facts and only report those. They used to check these things. But now it’s all about sensationalism and drawing in the most advertisers.”
“And you’re at the very hub of it,” Brittany said with a smile, as though that was a good thing. “Consider yourself lucky.”
“How so?” Lola didn’t feel like anything that had happened to her over the past month was very lucky. Up until a few days ago, she would have thought there had been some luck in meeting Bishop. But he’d made it very clear that it was just another mistake.
“You’re popular. I’ve said it a thousand times, but I still don’t think you get it. Everybody is interested in you. It doesn’t matter if you make good or bad choices; the public wants to know about them. If someone sees you having avocado toast for breakfast, then you can bet your bottom dollar that there will be a run on avocados the next day. It’s when you end up on Dancing with the Stars that you know you’re a has-been, and you’re nowhere near that dance floor.”