by Naomi West
Chapter Seven
Lola
Lola sat cross-legged on the bed, scribbling madly in a notebook as the words came to her. She let her hand take over, not thinking about anything until she was finished. When she finally sat back to read the lyrics from beginning to end, she grunted with disgust and tore the page from the notebook. Crumpling it, she pitched it across the room to the trashcan. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor amongst a pile of similar balls of paper.
It looked so easy when the producers did it. More than once, she had seen the studio men come up with a song in less than an hour, writing it off the cuff and only changing a few words or notes until it was perfect. She envied their creativity, and she longed to be able to expose the side of her that wanted to speak out. Sure, it was fun to strut around on stage and sing about how hot a guy was or how horny she was for him, but Lola craved something a little deeper. She’d tried here and there, when she thought she’d come up with some lyrics she thought they could use, but her producer always gave them back to her with a shake of his head. “Lola, honey, you just leave this part up to me. I know what people are looking for, and I just need you to give it to them for me.” His words stung, but they hadn’t stopped her.
And of course, it wasn’t easy to feel creative when she was stuck in a hotel room with all the curtains drawn. It would have been nice to at least let a little sunshine in, but that was impossible while the herd of fans was still outside.
A knock sounded on the door. “It’s me,” Butch announced, not making her guess.
“Come in,” she sighed, shutting the notebook and tossing it on the nightstand. “What’s up?”
“Just checking on you to see if you need anything.”
“You know what I need,” she countered.
“And you know I can’t give it to you.” Butch gave her a small smile, trying to placate her. “Why don’t you let us try to organize this chaos? I’m sure I can get the hotel manager to coordinate with us and only let a few people into the lobby at a time. They’ll be screened for weapons, and then you can sign autographs. At the very least, it will make the time go by a little faster for you.”
Lola rolled her eyes. Butch was a good guy, but despite his years in the entertainment business, he just didn’t get it. “I don’t feel like dealing with fans. I came here because I had some things to take care of, not to get mobbed. Besides, don’t you think the crowd will just increase if they find out they have a chance at an autograph and a picture? Personally, I’m hoping they’ll eventually give up and go away.”
“Not likely. They love you too much.”
“I wish I could say the feeling’s mutual.”
Butch rolled his big shoulders. “Well, just let me know if you need anything.”
“Right.” Lola picked up her cell phone as he left the room and tried her mom’s cell number once more. She had been trying to get a hold of them all morning, even though she wasn’t sure why she bothered. If they weren’t answering either of their cell phones or the house phone, then they obviously didn’t want to talk to her. But she still wanted a chance to make things right. She left yet another voicemail and hung up.
The phone rang a moment later and she jumped at it, thinking it was one of her parents. It was Brittany instead. “Oh, my God! I just saw all this on the news! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lola sighed, wishing Brittany could have been there with her. It would have been so much more fun to be stuck in the hotel if they could be together, trying on makeup and gossiping. “I’m sorry. It’s just been kinda crazy around here.”
“Can’t you just come home?”
“Ugh, no! Victor and Butch are all hung up on the safety aspect of it. I get it, and I can’t say I enjoyed having bullets whizzing over my head yesterday, but it’s so frustrating.” She picked at the stitching on the comforter as she talked, wishing she had never come back to Rolling Hills.
“Have you heard from your parents? I mean, did they at least call after the attempt on your life?”
It was a good point, and it was one that hit Lola hard. She blinked back tears. “Ha. No.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Just wait it out until someone tells me I’m allowed to leave, I guess. There’s not much else I can do.”
“Well, call me if you need anything, and keep me updated. I’ve got to go. I have to be on a movie set in an hour, and I still haven’t finished packing all my brushes.”
“Okay, see ya.” Lola hung up, feeling even more homesick than ever. It was ironic, but it was true. This town definitely wasn’t home anymore, and it hadn’t been in a long time.
Chris came into the room only a few minutes later.
“What?” she barked at him. She’d never been a big fan of this guy, but she didn’t have a good reason for it. He had always just seemed so arrogant, and Lola met enough arrogant people working in the business she did. Chris was so full of himself it was sickening.
“Vic just called me,” he explained. “He said he tried your number several times but couldn’t get an answer.”
“Duh. That’s because I don’t want to talk to him.” Lola had seen the calls as they came through, and she had ignored each one of them. Victor was just going to keep trying to convince her that this was a good thing. But getting nearly killed could never be a good thing, and it was particularly bad when the shooter was still out there somewhere. Unless he had a solution for her, she didn’t want to talk to him. She told Chris as much.
“What’s wrong? Is the princess tired of being locked in her tower?” Chris asked with a fake pout.
“Fuck, yes, I am,” she retorted. “I’m bored to death.”
“You know, I could always entertain you, if you’d like.” He came close to the bed so that he was looming over her. He might have been a handsome man if only he’d had a different personality, but Lola had been able to see right through him from the beginning. “There are rumors circulating about the two of us already.”
Pressing her fingers against her eyelids, Lola wished she hadn’t heard that. She’d been doing her best not to watch the news that day, since the only thing anyone seemed interested in talking about was the fact that she was at the stupid Magnolia Blossom Hotel in stupid Rolling Hills. “I highly doubt that.”
“You shouldn’t.” Chris pulled his phone out of his pocket and began scrolling. “Ever since this wacko tried to off you, you’re the only thing anyone wants to talk about. They aren’t just talking about the shooting, either. Every news channel is trying to dig up something new on you.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Isn’t it? Especially when they say I might be fucking someone like Lola Lennox.” He waggled his eyebrows in a manner that was supposed to be suggestive. “Look, it says it right here.” Chris turned the phone around so she could see.
Lola didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t help herself. She quickly absorbed the headlines stating that she had been constantly seen with the hot young bodyguard. There was even a picture that was supposed proof, when Chris had his arm around Lola’s waist. “I remember that day,” she spat. “I had just tripped, that was all.”
Chris shrugged. “It’s enough for them, and it’s enough for me. What do you say? Should we lend a little truth the rumor?”
Closing her eyes once again, Lola gritted her teeth. “I want you to get out of this room right now.”
“But—”
“Now! And don’t come back in. I’m going to draw a bath and order room service. And before you ask, I don’t need your assistance.” She got up off the bed and shoved him toward the door.
The one good thing about this room was that it did have a nice big jacuzzi tub. Lola had already showered that morning, but a long soak in hot water sounded like the perfect thing to make her relax. She ordered a meal as the tub was filling, turned on some classical music on her phone, grabbed her lyric notebook, and sank into the tub.
Chapter Eight
Bishop
Bishop looked up at the Magnolia Blossom Hotel. He hadn’t paid much attention to it over the last few years; there had been no reason to. Now, though, it was the center of his world.
He hadn’t like the information that one of his men brought back to him. In fact, he had disliked it so much that he had made the man double-check it and then show him the proof. But there was no denying it. While they hadn’t yet tracked down the killer, what Bishop now knew could seriously affect Lola. He had to let her know.
The trouble was, nobody was allowed in the hotel. Fortunately, he knew how to get around that. He’d already made the call, and now he just had to hope that it went off without a hitch.
Sure enough, as he circled around to the back of the hotel, the back door near the dumpster opened. It was a smooth door on the outside, completely inaccessible for anyone trying to get in. Unless you had a buddy in the business, that is.
“Hurry,” Wade said as he gestured to him from the doorway. “I don’t want to get caught.”
“What’s the matter?” Bishop asked casually. “You’ve never snuck anyone in this way before?”
“Well, I’d like to. I know as well as anyone else that chicks like doing it in hotel rooms. But I’d also like to keep this job, you know?” Wade walked quickly to a supply closet, his curly blond hair bouncing around his head. “I sure hope this works.”
“Don’t worry. If it doesn’t, I won’t peg it on you. Consider us even now.” Bishop had intervened when Wade was on the brink of getting beaten up or maybe even killed by a group of ruffians who had decided to take their pleasure in doling out random bloody noses and black eyes. Bishop happened to ride by at just the right moment and scared them off. “Those guys don’t bother you anymore, do they?”
Wade ushered him into the closet, turned on the light, and shut the door. He was grinning now. “Hell, no. They never thought some kid like me would be friends with a biker. I mean, uh, I know we aren’t friends. It was totally random on your part and you were just being nice, and I didn’t mean to imply—”
Bishop clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Sure, we’re friends. You can tell anyone you want to that you know me, because you do. And I’ll be your best friend if this works out the way I want it to.”
Taking a white button-down shirt off a nearby rack, Wade handed it to Bishop. He then found a green vest with the Magnolia Blossom Hotel logo emblazoned on it. “I sure hope it does. It’s bad enough that I’m letting you in here, but getting you up to Lola’s room had got to be the kind of thing that would get me fired on the spot. The manager has told us that we’re only allowed to go up there if we’re explicitly told to. He doesn’t want to piss her off with a bunch of employee fanboys.”
The shirt and vest were a little tight across Bishop’s shoulders, but he would make it work. He stepped into a pair of black trousers. The costume had to be completely authentic, no matter how badly he would miss his jeans. “I can understand, but I’ve got information for her that could be very important.”
Wade gave him a curious look as he adjusted the little bowtie on the biker’s neck. “You doing some sort of secret agent work or something?”
“You could call it that.”
“Well, good luck. I’ve got the cart all ready to go. I was lucky enough to be the one who picked up the phone when she called to order the meal, so we shouldn’t have anyone else heading up that way until the maid comes through tomorrow morning. But still, don’t stay in there too long. All you have to do is take it up to her room, knock on the door, and say you’re with room service.” Wade led the way down a short hall and showed him a cart with a tablecloth and a covered dish. “The service elevator is right over there.”
“I think I can handle it.”
Bishop took the cart into the elevator. He wasn’t worried about getting caught, not really. Despite the fact that the entire town was abuzz with Lola’s presence, he knew firsthand that her security detail wasn’t all that great. He wondered why she hadn’t brought more with her, but that wasn’t his problem at this point. He tugged at the tie as the elevator took him up to the third floor, which was as high as it went. There was nothing left to do but to go for it.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing a hallway that looked identical to all the others. Bishop stepped out casually, the cart in front of him, and forced himself to walk slowly down the hall instead of charging forward. A food service employee didn’t run through the hotel to give people their dinner. But he was impatient to get this done and to get near Lola again.
Turning a corner, he spotted her room before he could even get close enough to see the number on the door. With one of the bodyguards standing in front of it, there was no mistaking where she was.
“I’ve got room service for Miss Lennox?” he said politely.
The bodyguard looked him up and down with a frown. The uniform was right, but Bishop knew that his tattoos and piercings probably didn’t help the situation. It was the younger, more arrogant guard and not the big bald one, which made Bishop feel better. Neither of the men had seen him at the bar the previous day, so they couldn’t recognize him from there, but it had been clear to Bishop which one of them was better at his job.
Apparently accepting his uniform as proof enough of his identity, the bodyguard stepped aside and waved at the door.
Bishop knocked. “Room service!”
There was just enough of a delay that he thought Lola might not have heard him, but she soon replied, “Come in!”
The bodyguard unlocked the door and held it for him, but he shut the door behind Bishop and stayed in the hall. Bishop swung the cart over near the wall and glanced around, expecting to see Lola, but she was nowhere in sight. The bed was rumpled suggestively, but she wasn’t in it.
“Just leave it out there, and I’ll get it in a minute,” Lola called from a doorway off to the right. Curls of steam leaked out of it.
Grinning, Bishop nearly forgot the real reason he was there as he left the cart and advanced to the bathroom. She had left the door cracked, and the sound of soft piano music poured out along with the steam. He pushed the door open the rest of the way to find her in the tub. Her delicate toes stuck out of the water at one end, her head back and resting on a small bath pillow at the other end. Her eyes were closed, a look of pure peacefulness on her face. A thick layer of bubbles floated on the water and clung to her skin where her hand rested gently on the edge of the tub, and they danced alluringly against the tops of her breasts.
He stood there for a moment, simply drinking in the scenery. At that moment, Lola wasn’t a singing sensation stuck in a hotel while her would-be killer was on the loose. She was just a beautiful, sexy woman in a bathtub, practically begging Bishop to take her right then and there.
But she slowly opened her eyes, blinked, and then snapped her head around to the door. Her eyes widened with fear and she sucked in a deep breath, but Bishop was too quick for her. He dove across the room and clamped his hand over her mouth before she could scream.
“Don’t go doing something as stupid as that,” he commanded in a whisper. “I’ve got to talk to you.”
Her brows furrowed at him, but she finally nodded to let him know she wouldn’t call for help. “It seems to me you could have found a better way to do it than to sneak in here while I’m in the fucking tub.”
“Maybe,” he replied, “but this was a lot more fun.”
She slapped her hand on the water, splashing the soapy liquid over his uniform. “You’re an asshole. I don’t care that you saved my life. You’re still an asshole.”
“Asshole or not, I’ve got to talk to you.” Bishop was trying hard to stay focused, but it was impossible to do while he knew she was naked under the water. He had held that body in his hands for only a few seconds, but he could easily imagine just what it looked like. And the fact that it was all wet and soapy…
“Go in the other room,” Lola commanded, puttin
g a momentary stop to his fantasies. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
He waited impatiently in the main area of the hotel room as dictated, turning around when she emerged in a bathrobe. The thin terrycloth clung to her figure, and her body gave him a much different message than her face did.
“All right. What is it?” She folded her arms in front of her chest and stuck her chin defiantly in the air.
“I’ve been looking into some things. I’ve got some men who are very knowledgeable when it comes to computers and the Internet. What we’ve—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Lola put up a hand to stop him. Her nails were painted pink, a detail he hadn’t noticed the previous day. “You’ve been looking into some things? What things?”
Bishop shook his head, shocked at how ungrateful she was being already, when he hadn’t even had a chance to explain yet. “Oh, you know, just little things like trying to find the man who shot at you.”