What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On 1)

“So, is there a reason you don’t want to be in the ads that you can share with us?” Jen asked.

“Yeah, because if I had all that going on”—Sarah eyed Lola—“I wouldn’t be able to keep a roommate since I’d be strutting around naked in my Staci Kay shoes every night.”

Lola bit back a grin. She hadn’t had that much confidence until Alex had lit her up. But there was a fine line between the way he saw her and the way the rest of the world did. She had eight years of proof to back that up.

But the girls had a point. If they were going to be a tighter team, they should be open with one another.

“Fine.” Lola stood. She pulled in a deep breath, held it a few seconds, then let it out slowly. Steeling herself.

The ladies watched her curiously as Lola prepared to make her grand confession.

“I don’t want to be typecast,” she tentatively began.

This was a bit more painful to admit than she’d suspected, but she didn’t back down from the personal, emotional challenge it presented. “I don’t want to be the ditzy blonde in the sexy shoe ads. I have a brain and a business degree.” She propped her hands on her hips, fighting the agony of scrutiny she’d lived with for so long. “I’m tired of the asshole remarks and the second-guessing because I have boobs and curves. Even you two looked shocked—the first time you met me—that I could put a sentence together, much less a coherent, intelligent one. It’s bullshit.”

Her looks were a total bitch when it came to first impressions.

Lola shook her head as her agitation mounted, the momentum building within her. “I’d change my hair color to help matters, but I shouldn’t have to change anything for anyone. I like my hair, and so screw everyone who thinks I’m a dumb blonde. A Barbie. That’s what they called me the first week in Baltimore, by the way. Until someone with stones even bigger than yours, Sarah, set the record straight.”

Neither Sarah nor Jen said a word. They stared at her, wide-eyed. Lola’s pulse raced and her cheeks flamed. She even had to force back the prickle around her eyes with some vicious blinking.

“I’m smart and I work hard,” she insisted. “But I always have to fight for a chance to prove it. So, yeah, I get a little pissed at people who judge books by their covers. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done, to be the best that I can be. I don’t need the under-the-breath, snide remarks or outright gawking constantly undermining my confidence.”

The other women exchanged a contrite look.

“It’s pure crap,” she contended. “I deserve an opportunity to show what I’m made of, just like everyone else. It gets a little tiring being instantly stereotyped, you know?” Her frustration overrode her emotion, so that she kept her head high and the tears at bay. “And I just want to say ‘fuck you’ to anyone who thinks that all I have to do is show a little cleavage or a dimple to get my way. I’m willing to demonstrate my value, to deliver on my promises that I can achieve professional success. And so, yeah… to hell with people who constantly question me based solely on my looks.”

Lola heaved an irritated sigh. Sank into her chair.

Sarah and Jen still stared at her, jaws slack.

“Sorry,” Lola ground out. “I’m a little sensitive when it comes to this subject.”

A few more suspended seconds of silence ensued.

Then Jen’s expression changed to one of sheer admiration. “Are you kidding?” she said. “That was fierce.”

“Yeah,” Sarah concurred, respect finally flashing in her unwavering gaze. “Full-on fierce.” Surprisingly, she wagged a finger in Lola’s face. “You are so doing these ads. Super-sassy in stilettos, but successful, too. Think about it. Play it up. Pitch it tomorrow morning. Ad agency is coming on Monday. We need to blow the fucking doors off this thing.” She turned on the heels of her strappy sandals and sauntered off.

Lola blew out a breath. That woman was a force with which to be reckoned.

Jen simply said, “Do it up right, Lola.” She smiled encouragingly, then disappeared to go about her business.

“Sure,” Lola mused, bewildered and breathless. “Because that wasn’t the most bizarre Ya-Ya Sisterhood moment on the planet.”

She turned back to her laptop, but couldn’t fully focus on her work. She swam in a sea of confused thoughts and exhilaration laced with nervous anxiety. Such contradictory sensations. Yet Lola mulled over that opportunity to show what she was made of—could she really prove to be creative behind the scenes and in front of the camera?

Maybe…

If she played her cards right.

Did she actually have the power to make this ad campaign speak to people?

Perhaps…

And, quite honestly, that was the ultimate career rush.

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