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Lola’s hands and arms were moving at a ridiculous pace.
From the look of it, she wasn’t saying anything good.
Trey stood there—looking very unimpressed. His mouth was in a thin line, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around and bolted.
“I’d kill to hear what she was saying to him,” Gianna whispered as though they could hear us all the way across the courtyard.
“She does not look happy,” Niki said straight to me. That was probably more words than Niki had said to me in the last week.
But it was the way she said them—and how. She stared at me with so much feeling in her eyes, that I knew she was on my side.
When her hand landed on my arm and squeezed—I nearly cried.
“Lexi!” Lola screamed, and my stomach twisted.
“What the heck?” Gianna said and then started laughing. “Oh, girl, your night is not even half over yet.”
She said that while staring directly at me.
“Lexi Hunter, get your ass out here, now!” Lola yelled more adamantly.
Yikes.
I hurried to the door and ran out to where she was standing.
“You,” she pointed at me, “and I are going to talk.” Just as swiftly, she spun around on her ridiculously high, high heels and started strutting away.
I looked up at Trey and caught his eyes for a second.
“Lexi, I—” was all he said before Lola interrupted.
“Do not waste your breath on,” she stomped her feet, and pointed erratically at Trey, “that!”
As soon as she turned back around, I took one last look at Trey—and followed her out.
“I saw it.I saw it all,” Lola said in a wobbly, kind of crazy voice.
She was mixing us martinis in the back of her limo.
I’d never had a martini before, but I felt like if there was ever a time for one—now was it.
“We’ve watched him toss back those pills like they’re candy. And nobody says one goddamn thing. It’s, it’s, it's maddening.”
She added about five olives to each glass. I liked olives, but I wasn’t sure if I liked them that much.
“And you have the courage,” she said and her voice hitched, “to realize what’s going on. Lexi, you knew what he was doing even though he tried to lie his way out of it. And that, my girl,” she said with wet eyes, “is amazing. No, no, no.” She shook her head and the drinks slopped a bit over the rims. “You knew what he was doing—and you left. You saw right through his handsome exterior and his smooth lines—and left him. That my girl,” she handed me a glass, “takes guts.”
I smiled at her and took a sip. It tasted like alcohol. And olives. And salt.
Maybe a bit of pine?
It wasn’t bad, so I drank more.
Lola was clearly being supportive.
However, I didn’t know her from a hole in the ground.
I appreciated what she was saying, but the one thing I couldn’t do was reply.
