His mouth dropped open as he looked past Elly. “Oh my gosh. Is that Lola Plumb?” Suddenly, everyone around them was asking the same question and Elly began to see camera phones rising out of the darkness. As if someone had blown an invisible whistle, suddenly there were a thousand people pressing against them, each one trying to get close to Lola. The Scotsman began roughly shoving people away from Lola, who was being grabbed from all around. Someone grabbed her sunglasses from the top of her head, and there were hands touching her hip and arms, so many hands. Elly felt claustrophobic in the crush of sweaty beautiful people, and began to make her way toward the narrow stairs where Lola had been attempting to go. Someone’s arm pressed against her forehead, and then she found herself trapped under a sweaty armpit that was gyrating with alarming passion.
“Argh! Get off!” This was so not the place for a thirty-three-year-old to be. This thirty-three-year-old should be on her couch with her boyfriend and a good movie starring Meryl Streep. Oh, but you ended things, remember? That’s right. Elly closed her eyes for a moment and thought about Keith. She was thankfully interrupted from going down that road by Lola’s hand brushing her arm. She was being carried by the Scotsman. Oh, so that’s what he was for. “Let’s get out of here,” Elly breathed. “This is getting a little scary for you.”
Lola nodded. They made their way up the staircase, the flash of a thousand cameras capturing Lola’s behind. There was a disturbing lack of clicking when Elly made her way up behind her. Their table, gorgeously dressed in crystal and all-white linens, was waiting for them. Their booth overlooked the entire club, putting them at the same height with the aerialist. It was a stunning sight, seeing throngs of dancers from above. Fame, thought Elly. This is what it looks like. Attractive and ridiculous in equal measure.
A team of waiters descended on the group. Lola waved her hand, and the model with the Afro began rattling off a long list of liquors.
“Excuse me.” Elly was climbing over the rest of the entourage to try and sit by Lola. “Sorry. Oops, that’s your foot. So sorry.” Annoyed looks followed her all the way down the table until she pushed herself between Robbey and Lola. “Lola. Give me five minutes to talk to you about flowers.”
Lola stared past her with watery eyes. “I miss Joe. He’s not going to be happy that I went out. I should marry him, right?”
Elly gave her a kind smile. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Yes, you can. No one tells me anything, except what I should wear and say, what movies I should do, what I shouldn’t do, and who I should talk to.”
Elly paused, carefully weighing the cost of advice on her tongue. “I used to be attracted to the wrong type of men. I wasted so much time bending to their whims and moods, and it took away a part of me that I had to fight very hard to get back. Then I met a man who was the opposite of what I thought I wanted.” Her voice quavered as she thought of the vulnerable look in Keith’s eyes when she ran her fingers down his face. “I can tell you that the kind of man you want to spend the rest of your life with is the kind that encourages your best habits and most ambitious dreams. Crashing waves are all very romantic, but every time I gave into them, I ended up decimated and sunburned on the shore. A steady sea is best, if you are going to love with abandon. Does that make sense?”
Lola’s eyes were confused. “Are you saying I should buy a boat?”
Elly shook her head. “Never mind. About your flowers. I think we should rethink the navy-blue flowers, and any flowers that are dyed, period. In fact, if you trust me….”
“The hooch is here!” crowed Brittany, pushing her arm in front of Elly’s face to give Lola a shot, which she took with a grimace before Elly could stop her.
“What are you doing?” hissed Elly. “She’s sober.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “I’ve only heard that a million times. She can be sober next week.”
Lola slammed the glass down on the table. “Ooh, that was good. So the flowers, you were saying that I shouldn’t go with dyed flowers? What about the navy blue? Can we still have all the wildflowers? Gemma said no, but it made me sad.” She paused and reached for another shot. “My parents’ wedding colors were navy blue and pink. My father wore a pinstripe suit. They had wildflowers.” The shot went down, followed by another. Her entourage cheered as an aerialist swung very close to the table, showering glitter down on them.
Elly leaned back in her seat to think for a moment. Her heart was opening a little, and beat by beat, a new plan rose out of it. I won’t try to change her mind. I won’t kowtow to Gemma’s pressure. I will give Lola the wedding she wants and make it gorgeous. I can do both. I’m Elly Jordan, and this is what I do. I might not have the man that I love, but I have the job that I love, and this—she looked over at Lola—is my job. This lost girl is my job. She turned to Lola, but Lola had crawled under the table and was bolting to the restroom. Elly looked with confusion at the rest of the table.