After vanishing from the spotlight for a few months, Lola had emerged triumphant from rehab, looking confident and rested. Her beautiful face graced the cover of dozens of magazines touting the miracle of rehab and faith. Critics appeared hopeful that Lola would take up acting once again, perhaps in a small romantic comedy. For a few weeks, it appeared that the nation and the public eye had forgiven Lola, and that she would once again rise to the top of the list for in-demand actors. Then she was caught coming out of a hotel with Caesar Speena, a very well-known thespian and respected actor on the British stage. He was more famous, however for being married to America’s sweetheart, Juliet Speena. The fallout was instant and ruthless. The papers declared Lola a home wrecker, as did Mrs. Speena, who even went on Oprah to talk about how their affair had ruined her life. Juliet promptly divorced Caesar, and with the entire world hating him, Caesar had swiftly broken up with Lola. She was left alone by the ruthless Hollywood machine—blacklisted by the big film companies who wanted to make sure they didn’t offend Ms. Speena—and romanced by cheap, unscrupulous studios who just wanted to make a buck off her notoriety. She had starred in back-to-back horror films in the last year, and was a constant disaster on the red carpet. Lola Plumb was a paparazzi and gossip magnet—pure sales gold— and there was nothing she wouldn’t endorse. Just last month, Elly had read that she had worn a bikini made only of Blue Moon caps to a movie premiere.
Say something! Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the camera operator gesture wildly for her to do something. “Uhhh … yay!” Elly let out an excited cheer, raising her hands above her head and jumping lamely. She saw Snarky Teenage in the corner, leaning against the wall, the color draining from her face. Get it together, Elly thought. “Yaaayyy….” Her cheering died out, hands half-raised in the air. “Oh my gosh! I’m so excited to meet you.” There, that was better. Elly tried not to look directly into the camera. She saw Gemma Reynolds give a painful grimace.
Lola Plumb raised one perfectly arched eyebrow behind her huge sunglasses. “Uh, hello. Hi, I’m Lola Plumb.” She shuffled her tiny white Chihuahua to her hip and stuck out her tiny hand, which was covered with huge costume rings.
Elly took Lola’s hand nervously (why hadn’t she thought to shake hands, oh, idiot!), her own damp with sweat. She looked down. On second glance, those weren’t costume rings. Those were real, huge diamonds. Elly took a step back.
“Cut!” screamed Gemma. She stomped to the middle of room. “Ugh. That was horribly awkward, but it will have to do. We have a time constraint here. We’ll do some silent filming to get background shots of you talking, and then we’re off. Lola, is everything okay?”
Lola gave an uncomfortable sniff. “Yes, that sounds fine. Could I use the bathroom first?”
Gemma narrowed her eyes. “Sure. Elly, where is the bathroom?”
Elly was still looking at Lola, stunned that this illustrious celebrity was going to use her bathroom. Did she even have toilet paper in there? “Uh, hold on.” She raced back to the store bathroom, speed walking past Snarky Teenager and Anthony, who hovered in the corner. She poked her head in the bathroom. Toilet paper? Check. Stains on the wall? Ugh. Check. “Yes, yes, it’s right here. You can certainly use it.”
Lola gave a nod. She placed her dog on the floor. “Boogie, stay.” Tottering on her heels, she shakily made her way to the bathroom, shutting and locking herself inside of it.
“Great,” muttered Gemma, “she is probably snorting up in there.”
Elly looked over with wide eyes at the producer. Boogie raised his leg and peed on the carpet. Gemma shrugged and went back to her clipboard, muttering madly to herself. Elly was left standing outside the bathroom door. Snarky Teenager slipped beside her. “Lola Plumb is in OUR bathroom!” she hissed. “Oh my God.”
Elly stood frozen. “I know. What do we do now?”
Snarky Teenager looked like she couldn’t breathe. “We never let anyone go in there again. They’ll take the magic.”
Elly stood nervously outside the door. After a few minutes, Gemma brushed past her. “Lola, are you okay in there? We should probably get the talking shots.”
“Um, yes, just a minute!” cried Lola.
Elly glanced over at Gemma, who gave Elly an exasperated look. “Celebrities,” she mumbled as she stomped back to the front of the store.
The brass doorknob turned, and Lola emerged looking much better than when she went in. “Sorry about that Gemma, sorry … er, sorry, what was your name?”
Elly stuck out her hand for the second time. “Elly. I’m your florist.”
“Oh, Elly!” Lola gave a squeal and wrapped her into a giant hug. She smelled of citrus and champagne. “I loved the pink rose petals on the ground. That was so inspired! The minute I saw it, I knew that you would be the florist for our wedding. I feel like we are on the same style wavelength.”
Elly glanced down at her black pants and denim jacket and over at Lola’s bright designer dress. “Definitely,” she said softly.
Lola walked quickly to the front, snatching up her little Chihuahua (“Boogie baby,” she cooed) and sat down at the consultation table. “Okay, Gemma, I’m ready. Go ahead.”