That was good. The last thing I wanted was to bring Xena into it, Marriott. Enough blood was shed for the day. Xena wasn’t really in my way. In fact, I kind of liked her. All she cared about was her camera. As long as it stayed that way, she’d be safe.
Matter of fact, all of Lola’s friends would be safe if they minded their own business.
* * *
I was curious when Lola would return to camp, or if she even would.
What happened that day was embarrassing, to say the least. Rumors were already spreading, journalists popping up at the front gates firing questions at Vonyetta, who insisted they leave during their private event.
With so much heat, I figured Lola would cower and never return—let her staff handle it all—but around nine the same night she was back.
I was the only person in the cabin, on my cell phone, scrolling through Corey’s Instagram. I had to keep tabs on him as well. He was just as much a piece in this little chess game of mine as Lola was.
When she walked in, Georgia trailed in behind her with the straps of a plastic bag in hand.
I climbed off the bed. “Lola?” I gasped.
Lola sat on her bed and pulled the comforter over her legs and thighs without a word. Georgia came up to her and handed her the bag, and Lola immediately tore into it, taking out a pint of ice cream. I knew the brand. It was a vegan ice cream. She sponsored the company and the ice cream on her Instagram often.
“Is there anything else you’ll need, Mrs. Maxwell?” Georgia asked.
“No. I’m okay, G. You can take the truck back to the mansion.”
“Okay.” Georgia stepped back and looked at me. Pursing her lips, she turned away and left the cabin.
“Lola, are you okay?” I asked.
“Shit! Georgia forgot the damn spoon,” Lola snapped.
“Oh, here.” I rushed to the minibar in the corner, where the miniwine bottles and mimosa mixes were. I grabbed a spoon in plastic wrap and walked back to hand it to her.
Lola accepted it, then sighed. “Thank you, Ivy.”
I sat on the bottom of her bed as she took the lid off her ice cream, as well as the seal. She stuck her spoon right into it and scooped some into her mouth. She made a gagging noise and spat the ice cream right back out.
“Ugh. Oh my God. Okay. That is disgusting. If they didn’t pay me so well, I wouldn’t be endorsing that shit.” She capped the ice cream and shoved it back into the bag, then she tossed the comforter off her legs and made her way to the minibar.
She filled a plastic cup with wine and downed it, then she poured another but took it down slowly. She finished it, though. After one more pour, she was pacing back and forth in the cabin with her cup, staring down at the ground.
“Is Keke okay?” I finally asked, and she slowed her pace, side-eyeing me.
“Far from it. She has a severe concussion, as they said, and not only that, the doctor doesn’t know when she’ll come to. He said it could be days. Weeks. Hell, maybe even months because it’s so bad.” She sat on the bottom of Keke’s bed, nursing her wine.
“Lola, I’m so sorry.”
She went on as if she hadn’t heard me. “They stitched her up, put casts on the broken bones. Broken arm and broken shin. I’m sure she’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow.”
I remained silent.
“The only thing I can’t understand is how she fell. I mean—we’ve been going to this camp for years. Keke has walked that trail, jogged it, sprinted on it, and not once has she fallen.” Lola’s brown eyes shifted up to lock on mine. “You were out this morning. You didn’t happen to see anything, did you? Maybe someone else was out there too?”
“No, I didn’t see anyone,” I responded with a shake of my head. “Why? Do you think someone caused this?”
Lola swallowed hard and stared me in the eye before dropping hers to the cup of wine in her hand. She took a big swig. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions. For all I know, maybe Keke tried something new and got too close to the edge. But . . . well, never mind.”
“No.” I stood up and moved closer, sitting on the rug on the floor right in front of her and giving her all my attention. I was the friend she needed right now. The one who wouldn’t judge and would only listen. “You can tell me anything.”
“Can I?” she probed, and for a moment there was something hostile and defensive about her. I wasn’t sure if she was directing that hostility toward me or if she was just upset about the situation.