Gemma’s walkie-talkie blared. “Gemma, we have some party crashers at the back door. Can you come …?”
“Gotta go!” Gemma barked and left Elly alone in her alcove to watch the ceremony, which was perfect from beginning to end. Joe read a terrible poem he’d written for Lola, Jude Law read from Corinthians, and finally, Lola’s childhood pastor gave a message of hope and commitment that could stir even the most bitter soul. The vows were sealed, the candles lit, and then it was time to pronounce them husband and wife. The crowd jumped to their feet, a thousand camera phones flashing as Joe raised his new wife’s hand above his head like a champion. Lola followed her hand up and Elly saw her eyes focus on Elly’s alcove, far above her head. Elly waved and clapped. Lola gave her a huge smile and a small wave before Joe swept her up in his arms and carried her down the aisle.
Her chest buzzing with joy, Elly was happy to let herself be swept up in their story, even while knowing that this wouldn’t be her ending. She quietly gathered her purse and snuck out a back entrance, almost stepping on someone’s foot on her way out the door. She looked up into the eyes of talk show host Chloe Britt, the girl who had been the primary cause of Lola’s decline. Chloe was a mess. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, and her shaking hand held a nubby cigarette. Elly stared at her like a deer in headlights for a moment before recovering. Chloe cleared her throat and that signature sultry voice purred out. “You’re her friend, right? Lola’s?”
Elly nodded, unsure what to do in the moment. “Tell her congrats for me. Please. I just wanted to see her. She looks happy. You’ll tell her, yeah?”
Elly found her awkward voice. “Of course. Yes.”
“Thanks.” Chloe dropped her cigarette on the pavement and ground it out with an impossibly thin teal heel. Then she reached into her clutch and handed Elly an embossed business card. “I’ll be getting married next year. I haven’t found the man yet, but it’s already on the calendar. I’d love you to do my flowers. I’ve never seen anything like that aisle before. You could maybe even do the flowers for my show.”
Elly cleared her throat. “Uh, that’s nice. But don’t you live in LA?”
Chloe sized her up with wide hazel eyes. “I do. And so should you.” With that, the party girl who won an Emmy turned and walked toward her idling limo. “I’ll be in touch.”
The car pulled away from the curb. Elly looked down at the card and pondered what Chloe had said. Los Angeles? Hollywood people were so weird. Unsure of why she was doing it at the moment, Elly tucked the card into her purse, instead of dropping it into a nearby trash can. Tabloid drama be damned—it was time to party.
Chapter Twenty-Six