Stud

by Naomi West

  There had been nothing good that had happened to her while she’d been here, except for their afternoon together. Even then, he might have been the only one who still thought of it as a good thing. Lola had probably gone home and was living her normal life without any more thoughts of her time in this little town.

  Bishop sat at the bar, nursing a beer and trying to decide what he was going to do. Things had been almost too quiet, and he didn’t like it. As the leader of a motorcycle club, he was used to a little bit of drama and excitement. He needed something to get his blood pumping again, and sitting around at The Dive wasn’t cutting it.

  “Can you believe this place?” Jimmy asked excitedly. He’d been so busy mixing and pouring that he’d barely had a chance to talk to Bishop since he’d arrived. “I told you Lola would be good for business, and I wasn’t wrong!”

  “Sounds to me like it’s time to change the name on the sign and trade out all the décor for lipstick and lollipops,” Bishop replied sarcastically.

  The bartender raised his eyebrow as he wiped down the bar. “Someone sounds bitter.”

  “I’m just bored.”

  “You should have been a little more forthcoming with your part in keeping Lola alive,” Jimmy advised. “I know you were the one who saved her from those bullets, but I haven’t heard anybody talk about it. You were a hero.”

  Bishop pressed his lips together. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do. And it would have brought you your share of fame. All these Lola fans would be all over you, too. You’d get all the pussy you wanted.”

  “I’m good, thanks,” Bishop laughed softly. He could already get all the pussy he wanted, but the one that he actually did want was thousands of miles away. “I’m not a hero, and I don’t want the publicity.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you don’t really need it. You’re famous enough in these parts, right?”

  That wasn’t what Bishop meant, but he let it go. It wasn’t something he really wanted to go into.

  “Speak of the devil; there she is.” Jimmy picked up the remote from a shelf behind the bar and turned up the volume on the flat-screen TV that hung from the ceiling. Lola was on the screen, her hair and makeup fresh. Bishop had had the privilege of seeing her without any of that, just her face fresh from a steaming bath and her naked flesh. He’d liked her that way, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate how good she looked when she’d been done up for the camera.

  “I’m here with Lola Lennox,” said a reporter with short spiky hair and wide brown eyes, addressing the camera. “It’s no secret that an attempt was made on her life just over a month ago. We’ve shared the reports right here on Primetime News, but now I have the opportunity to sit down with Lola and talk to her about the experience as well as her upcoming album. Lola, so good of you to join us tonight.”

  Lola smiled pleasantly, sitting in a comfy upholstered sofa that matched the one the reporter sat in. With a coffee table between them, they looked like two friends getting together at one another’s house to catch up on the latest gossip. “Thank you for having me, Tonya.”

  “I know you’ve got a new album coming out next month. Can you start off by telling us a little bit about that?”

  “Of course.” Lola beamed, every bit back in her world of being a famous singer. She wasn’t a troubled but beautiful woman at a bar, nor was she a sexy diva locked in a hotel. She was just a performer. Bishop understood, but he wished he could see the real Lola and not this fake image that she had to put out.

  “It’s something that we worked very hard on, actually. There was a lot more time and effort going into this album than the last album. My producer and I wanted it to have a very specific theme, and we planned out everything from the songs to the music videos to the tour that will accompany it. Things were a little more off-the-cuff on the first album, but I don’t think any of us expected it to get as big as it did.”

  Tonya nodded understandingly. “And what has it been like for you to practically be an overnight sensation? You didn’t compete on any of the reality shows that often launch careers for artists these days, and you never released any indie or small label records, so at least for those of us on the other side of the radio, it all seems very quick.”

  “It’s definitely been a bit of a whirlwind, but it’s been a lot of fun. I’ve made some very good friends along the way, and I’ve learned a lot.” Lola smiled with those perfectly painted pink lips of hers. Bishop remembered exactly what they felt like against his. He knew it was time to move on, but neither the rest of the town nor the media seemed interested in doing so.

  “Up until the incident last month, you were a star who stayed fairly well out of the spotlight. What was your life like before you became famous?”

  There was a slight twitch in Lola’s mouth that made Bishop sit up straight. He hadn’t seen that look from her before yet, but he instantly knew what it meant. She was uncomfortable. What had happened to her in her past? It was something they hadn’t talked about. Granted, they hadn’t spent all that much time talking.

  “I think it would be best summed up by saying that it was very simple. I was very lucky to get picked up like I did, and it often feels like I’m living a completely different life.” Lola leaned forward and picked up a glass of water from the table, her sparkly earrings shining in the stage lights.

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Tonya pressed.

  “It’s just how things are.” Lola smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Bishop brooded on his barstool. He knew there was more to the story than what Lola was telling, even though he didn’t know any of the facts. What bothered him even more was that there was nothing he could do about it. He was a man of action, and he felt useless.

  “Now, what was it like for you that night? We all want to know exactly what happened in Rolling Hills.” The reporter gave her an inquisitive look.

  Bishop drained his beer, slammed his empty mug down on the bar, and swiveled his stool toward the door. He didn’t want to hear anything about the night of the shooting. He knew exactly how it had happened and that Lola would never tell the truth. She wouldn’t admit on live television that a group of rowdy bikers had distracted her bodyguards, allowing the gunman to get near her in the first place. She wouldn’t say that she’d been rescued by one of those same rowdy bikers, who kissed her in the alley that night and banged her in her hotel room the next night. They were the kind of juicy details that the media would probably eat up, but they wouldn’t help Lola’s career or reputation. Especially if they could know just what that little sex kitten had looked like when Bishop had her bent over the desk in the hotel room, juices dripping from her core and running down his balls.

  “Where are you going?” Jimmy asked, suddenly realizing that Bishop was leaving. “They’re just getting to the good part.”

  “I’ve got things to do.” He headed for the door, noticing that everyone else in the bar was engrossed in the interview. But he also knew they were only interested because she was a celebrity, and for them that made her different. He knew who she really was. Bishop flung open the door and left.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lola

  She was just starting to relax, her muscles slowly letting go of their tension as she and Tonya talked. The set was a comfortable one, with low lights in the background that gave it a tone of comfort and yet intrigue. The producers had assembled a small audience, mostly of women, who made sympathetic noises or applauded depending on what the stage assistants told them to do. Lola could forget for a moment who she used to be before she was Lola Lennox. She could even forget what a nasty witch Tonya was when she wasn’t on the screen and pretend that they were just a couple of gal pals. She could do as Brittany had advised and pretend like this was all just another stage performance. After all, she knew what the audience wanted out of her. She could give them just enough to make them happy, and then they would download copy after copy of her new album.

  But
of course, the entire purpose of this interview was not to make everyone believe she and Tonya were good friends or really even to promote her album. It was to let the world know what had truly happened that night in Rolling Hills. Tonya waited patiently for her to answer the question.

  “It was terrifying,” Lola replied. “We had no indication that anything like that was going to happen. I was just sitting there having a drink, minding my own business, and trying to relax a little bit. A crowd had shown up, which I didn’t expect, but they were in control. Then all of a sudden the bullets were flying. I could hear them as they whizzed by my head. I thought I was done for.”

  The audience reacted with sighs and low whispers.

  Tonya nodded, tears in her eyes. Lola knew they were fake, but no doubt the ratings were going through the roof. “I don’t think most of us can imagine what that was really like. We know that the police have yet to arrest anyone for this crime, but do they at least have any leads? Maybe some information they told you that they haven’t shared with us yet?”

  “I’m sorry, Tonya. I wish I could tell you that they have, but there isn’t anything. Whoever this guy was, he was good. That’s a lot of the scary part, you know? We don’t know if he was a local guy who just wanted to make a name for himself, or if he was someone who knew me here in LA. I don’t know why he did it or if he’s still after me or not.” It was something Lola tried hard not to think about. She wanted to believe it was a one-off job, and she doubted the guy was a professional, or he would have killed her. But she still couldn’t get the sound of the bullets and the pounding of her heart out of her head when she went to bed at night. Of course, these flashbacks were instantly followed by those of Bishop.

  The reporter once again nodded solemnly. She never had a list of questions to refer to or any cue cards to read but seemed to know instinctively where to steer the conversation. It was no surprise she was one of the top-rated reporters in the nation. “These days, there are so many situations caught on film. Surprisingly enough, there’s very little footage of what happened that night. Many of our viewers have seen the shaky footage that was caught on cell phones, but there isn’t much that really shows anything. While that has been frustrating for those of us who are desperate to know what it was like, and useless for the police in their efforts, I thought you might be able to fill in a few blanks. Just how did you manage to get away from the fire and stay safe?”

  The studio dissolved around Lola, instantly replaced by the bar. She could see the crowd of onlookers, held back by the friendly bartender who seemed intent on helping. Bishop was next to her again, his hard thigh nearly touching hers, an arrogant smile on his face as he did his best to charm her. Everything was fairly well normal, and Lola was doing her best to put the encounter with her parents out of her mind and focus on this handsome stranger.

  But the scene changed again instantly. The crack of the gun resounded in her ears, expanding and contracting with each explosion and making her head reel. Bishop’s arm was around her and forcing her under the table. Lola didn’t have the strength or sense to fight him. It was that close proximity to him that she couldn’t quite shake, that feeling of being held in his arms that translated so easily between the scene at the bar and their rendezvous at the hotel. The biker could have been holding her under the table or between his strong legs; either way was good with her. Things had seemed so cold since she had returned to the warm sunshine of Hollywood because she no longer had him with her.

  Tonya cleared her throat, bringing Lola back. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, um, yes.” Lola took the glass of water from the table again, using the moment to gather herself together. She wasn’t in Rolling Hills, and she wasn’t anywhere near Bishop. Keep it together.

  “It’s okay. I know this is difficult for you.” Tonya leaned forward sympathetically, her sad eyes believable. “We just appreciate you being here with us today and sharing your story. We believe that getting the truth out into the world is what makes a difference, and someone might be suffering in the same way that you are without a voice.”

  Lola highly doubted it, but she understood what was going on. Tonya was just engaging the viewers and making them believe that this was a relatable story. It was all just showbiz, like Brittany had said.

  “Now,” Tonya said, her tone suddenly brighter, “we have two more guests that we would like to join us this evening, men who deserve a few minutes of their own in the spotlight for assisting you and keeping you safe. Here we have Butch Phillips and Chris Vance!”

  To Lola’s surprise, her bodyguards came out onstage. She had left them in the Green room when she had arrived at the studio and been escorted to her private dressing room. Nobody had told her they would be onstage or that Tonya would want to talk to them. Someone had swapped out their jeans and T-shirts for nice gray suits and ties. Butch looked uncomfortable both in the fancy getup and at the thought of being in front of the cameras. He nodded modestly at the audience before taking up a place standing behind the sofa.

  Chris, however, was eating it up. He waved to the women in the audience as they clapped, cheered, and whistled at him. He’d made sure his hair was styled perfectly, and he showed off his brilliant white smile. When he was done with his showboating, he sat down on the sofa next to Lola, his thigh brushing hers.

  Her throat tightened at his closeness, but not in the same way that Bishop made her feel. He was supposed to protect and assist her, but never had he just sat down so close. It was an odd invasion of her personal space that made a sheen of sweat emerge on the back of her neck.

  Tonya beamed. “Butch, Chris, those of us who are Lola’s fans can’t thank you enough for keeping her safe. I understand there are some details that you just can’t give us about what you do, and we wouldn’t want you to reveal anything that would put her in any danger, but can you tell us a little bit about what you did for her that night?”

  Butch said nothing, but Chris dove right in. “Well, Tonya, it was a challenge. There were people everywhere, and only the two of us. Fortunately, we pressured the gunman enough that he ran off, and then we were able to get Lola safely out of there. It was definitely a high-risk situation, and one we would rather not find ourselves in again, but we were glad to do our job.”

  Lola tried to keep her face frozen so she wouldn’t turn to Chris in disgust and shout that he was a liar on live national television. She knew that was definitely not the way things had happened. But she couldn’t step in and tell the truth, not unless she wanted everyone to know about Bishop. As awful as this interview was turning out to be, that would make it far worse.

  “And we’re all so grateful that you did,” Tonya said with a smile. “And I’m sure Lola is as well.”

  She nodded dumbly. “Of course.”

  The reporter’s grin widened, stretching her face in a scary way. “Now, as fascinated as we all are by the night of the shooting, there’s one more thing that’s been on our minds. The rumors have been slowly spreading on message boards; bloggers are speculating about it; and now we want to know the truth.”

  Oh, shit. They really did know about Bishop. She had been foolish to think she would get off without anyone saying anything. Now she just had to decide if she would admit it or try to lie. There were benefits to both sides, but Lola just didn’t have enough time to think.

  Tonya was practically leaning over the coffee table now. “Chris, you’re a handsome young man, and you’ve been in Lola’s service for nearly six months now. There are countless pictures of the two of you together. Of course you have a job to do, but the entire world is wondering: are the two of you in a relationship?”

  The shock wave that hit Lola was tangible. “No,” she said instantly, terrified that Chris would try to claim otherwise. He was just the kind of guy who would say anything for a place in the spotlight. Lola paused a moment and smiled. “I mean, no, the rumors are false. We have a very professional relationship with each other, and I’m afraid that’s it.”
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  The women in the audience moaned their disappointment, and the left corner of Tonya’s mouth ticked down visibly.

  Lola couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lola

  Lola’s stomach swirled as she stormed back to her dressing room. She had managed to keep her cool during the remainder of the interview, plastering a smile on her face while Tonya applauded her security guards. She didn’t really mind that Butch was getting a little praise. He could be a little annoying sometimes and a little too fatherly, but he did that because he genuinely cared about her.

  Chris, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. He relished being in the spotlight, and Lola was certain that if he had his way he would have claimed they were together. The way he had grinned at the cameras and waved at the audience had been absolutely disgusting, and she was sure she had seen him stop to sign a few autographs for the swooning ladies in the audience when the interview was over.

  Lola wished she had someplace where she could be entirely by herself for a while without having to worry about crowds, guards, or cameras. For the moment, that would have to be her dressing room, but the thought gave her no comfort.