OUR PLAYLIST | JENLISA

TWENTY-SEVEN

Lisa

Playlist: Blood in the Cut | K.Flay
***

Lola roared up on her Harley in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, and the cameras fired up hungrily. She loved to make an entrance, and she always did it late. Fucking annoying.

“Forty-five minutes,” I grumbled to Pia, looking at my watch. It was 6:47 p.m. God, I hated her.

Ernie was off the red carpet, on the phone with a finger in his ear. We’d been waiting for Lola to show for almost a damn hour. I was contractually obligated to promote the movie however the studio saw fit, and Lola and I had collaborated on the soundtrack, so unfortunately we were a package deal at the moment. They wanted red carpet pictures of me with her, so I’d been forced to stand around outside in the blazing Hollywood heat until she got here. It was eighty-five in the shade. Sweat trickled down my back. I slid my fingers into my collar and tugged at the neck of my tie irritably.

I’d had to tell Jennie I couldn’t get a ticket for her so late—which was true. The seating arrangements had already been made. But I could have booted Ernie. Instead, I’d had to leave Jennie at home because Lola was going to be here, all over me, and I didn’t know what kind of shit show it was going to be.

It had been three days since Jennie told me she wanted to break up when I left. We had thirteen days until my tour and every minute counted now. I didn’t want to be here without her, wearing this monkey suit, waiting for Lola. I wanted to be in my underwear, tucked in bed with my girlfriend, watching TV. The fact that Jennie couldn’t be here with me and the knowledge that Lola was to blame for that infuriated me. Not to mention this was a whole day away from Jennie when our time together was almost up—and that was Lola’s fault too.

I wasn’t doing well.

I hadn’t been doing well since Jennie preemptively broke up with me. I couldn’t fucking sleep, and I didn’t feel like eating.

All of my wildest dreams were coming true. I was standing on a red carpet with superstars, promoting a major motion picture set to my music. I was about to leave on a massive worldwide tour. I was achieving all my career goals, and somehow I was about to end up losing the one thing that suddenly mattered the most to me. I actually resented my success now, wished I could just fucking walk away from it or take less of it in exchange for her.

I didn’t care what Jennie said about not wanting me to wait for her—I wasn’t dating other people during our split. I couldn’t. The fact that she maybe could fucking killed me. I was trying not to think about it. And now I was here, wasting the precious time I had left with her dealing with Lola.

I looked moodily at her on her bike. She wore four-inch red heels and shiny black pleather skinny pants. Her nipples pressed into the red ribbon of fabric that she considered a shirt. She’d actually ridden here in that shit.

She took off her helmet and her red hair tumbled out to the screams of fans behind the line stanchions followed by a strobe light of camera flashes.

I let out a controlled breath, making sure to keep my face neutral.

Pia put a hand on my arm. “Ready?”

“I will do as I’m told,” I said unenthusiastically, looking away from my nemesis posing on her Harley.

Pia had coached me extensively on today. She knew all about my issues with Lola. My relationship with my publicist was a little like a relationship with a doctor or lawyer. I had to be honest, or she couldn’t help me.

“Just remember to be diplomatic,” Pia said discreetly. “You can’t undo photos. If she touches you, don’t react. Smile and look relaxed. Don’t give them anything to speculate with. And don’t let her work you up.”

I nodded, my clenched fists the only thing revealing my mood.