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Would Carmen make the first move? She was such a maddening combination of dominant and submissive. Lola never knew what role she’d take, but it was always intentional. Always deployed to coax Lola into something.
Lola’s body burned. She didn’t care that Carmen knew how to play her. Not in the safe confines of her mind. She’d dance to her song. Approach her first with a smile and ask if she wanted to go somewhere else. Somewhere with a fucking mattress.
The sound of her door opening rocked Lola out of her fantasy. She jumped to her feet, not bothering to cover herself before reaching for a heavy, elephant-shaped bookend from her side table. She didn’t have time to go for the baseball bat under her bed, and she wasn’t going to get caught without a weapon.
When the lights came on, her mother was standing in the doorway, closing an umbrella while juggling a plastic bag in her hand.
“Mami! What are you doing here?” Lola screeched, heart racing at the adrenaline rush of her fight response. “You scared me!”
Leaning the umbrella against the door, her mother looked at her like Lola was an unexpected presence. “Why are you in your underwear, Mija? You’re going to catch your death!”
“It was raining and I—”
Her mother darted for Lola’s bedroom and brought her a plush robe she’d gotten for Christmas years earlier and never worn. Miami was too hot for robes, and she wasn’t going to waste money making her apartment cold enough just to wear it.
“Have you eaten?” her mother asked before handing her the robe and disappearing into the kitchen.
“No,” she called out her reply before following her mom’s voice. “Why?”
In the kitchen, her mother had opened a ricotta cheese container that naturally contained black beans. From a tub of butter, she produced steaming white rice.
“Good thing I made you food, then.” Her mother looked up at her with a smile.
Lola couldn’t help but return it. She hadn’t had home-cooked food in months. Carried away by the display of motherly love, Lola put her arm around her mother’s waist and rested her head on her shoulder. “This is definitely better than a Lean Cuisine.”
Her mother laughed, a deep joyous sound. “I should hope so!”
Sitting together at Lola’s bistro-sized dining table, they were halfway through their meal and Lola was chomping on her favorite fried, sweet plantain when the other shoe landed in the middle of her plate.
“I was hoping you could help me with something, Mija.”
Lola set down her fork. The pleasant warmth in her body leaked out the soles of her bare feet. The disappointment that settled in her chest was her fault. She shouldn’t have let herself be caught unawares. Shouldn’t have expected a leopard to try on stripes.
CHAPTER18
Lola satat her desk in the office making notes on a script that was so good it would convince Starla to get her head out of her ass and get back to work. It was exactly the kind of role Starla wanted. Her character was the pretty friend, not the main love interest in the romantic comedy, but her dialogue was hysterical. She’d have to read for it, but after having talked to the casting director, she’d sold him on how perfect Starla was for the part.
The phone on her desk buzzed, breaking her concentration. “Lola, there’s a man here to see you,” the receptionist said.
“Does this man have an appointment?” Lola snapped, already knowing the answer.
When the receptionist hesitated, Lola instantly regretted coming out of the gate too hot. “Did he give you a name?” she asked in a more normal speaking voice and less of a bullhorn.
“He says he has something to drop off and needs you to sign for it.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Can’t you—”
“He said it really should be personal service.”
“Give me a second,” she replied before standing.
Rolling down her silky sleeves, Lola padded barefoot to the flats she’d left by the door. Her heels she left under her desk. The torture wasn’t worth enduring for a delivery guy.
The moment she crossed the office, Martina’s head popped up from the bullpen like a pesky red-headed gopher. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she was watching Lola before she started for the door leading to the reception area.
Martina was like sandpaper over her eyes. Everything about her was so desperately annoying. Lola wrapped her fingers around the long, metal door handle, but stopped short of opening the door.
“Can I help you with something?” Lola put a friendly polish on her tone for the sake of the other assistants. She didn’t want the reputation of being an asshole to staff. She’d been one of them just a year earlier. Her only problem was with Martina.
