Awesome, thanks for the quick response, Sophie! I’ll give you a call Monday morning.
Jess
I down the first cup black and ignore the second-degree burns streaking down my esophagus while I respond:
Sounds good. Any time after 9:00 works for me.
Sophie
That gives me a little buffer of time to decompress from the interview.
While I stir sugar into the second cup, pondering how life went from low-grade weird to category four in the span of a week, Lola shuffles in. She takes the spoon and mug out of my hands, drops the spoon in the sink, inhales deeply, smiles with half-lidded but dreamy eyes, and croons, “Mama’s missed you, sweet thing.” She hands the mug back to me after she drinks deeply and asks, “Did you sleep at all?”
I take a sip before I wobble my head from side to side.
“I didn’t think so. I heard you get up for a snack around two and again at six to take a shower.” She yawns wide and sorts through the pods before selecting dark roast.
“Why are you up? You don’t have to work today, do you?”
She never works Mondays, because she says people are assholes on Monday mornings and their energy kills her vibe for the week.
She shakes her head through another jaw-cracking yawn and hops up onto the counter to sit next to the machine. “No, I was worried about you. I’m your hype girl; I’m here to cheer you on.”Like a sloth on downers, she shakes a fist like she has a pom-pom in it and says, “Yay.” Half asleep, it’s not convincing.
“Hype girl, bestie,andkidney donor? You’re a one-stop shop.”
She flips me off but chuckles soft and low.
I needed this. I needed Lola.
“Thicker Than Water’s supposed to call this morning.” I can’t hide a smile.
“No shit?” The news has perked her up.
I pick up my phone, open the message, and hand it over.
She beams when she reads the short exchange. “Jess is the singer, right? Holy hell, you have to put it on speaker when he calls. I could listen to his voice all day long.”
“Will do. I need to do my hair and makeup, wanna help?” I ask because Lola’s better at it than I am.
She hops down without a word and returns with my blow dryer and makeup bag. “Sit,” she commands.
When she flips the switch on the dryer, nothing happens. I take it from her and bang it against the heel of my other hand until it hums to life.
She says loudly over the blasting air, “You need to retire this POS and get a new one.”
“I know.” I’ve had it for sixteen years and it hasn’t worked properly for the past two, which is no big deal because I always let my hair air-dry. I should get rid of it, but it was the last gift our dad bought me. She knows; she just doesn’t share my sentimentality.
Diffusing my hair won’t take long, but she can’t wait until she’s done and it’s quiet. “Wanna hear what I think Thicker Than Water wants from you?” she shouts.
“I don’t think I’ve had enough coffee for that yet,” I say, in between swiping on some mascara and applying a little blush, so I look alive.
She shifts the chair and stands in front of me to continue working. I look up at her. She’s focused on my hair, but I can see her imagination getting the best of her. “A photo shoot, but not, like, a normal one. Just think, they fly you in on a private jet and put you up in a bougie hotel and then you get to stare at them with their shirts off for hours.”
I stifle a laugh. “They played in a dive bar to a crowd of less than a hundred, and they’re just starting out. They probably don’t have the funds to buy me a Greyhound bus ticket and put me up in a budget motel for the night.”
“Don’t throw shade. I’m dreaming big for you. And them. They have tons of new followers, and you’re an impresser now; that must mean something.”
I almost correct her, but I let it go because there’s no talking sense to Lola when she goes off on a tangent like this. “I’m not throwing shade. Let’s say you’re right. Why would they have their shirts off?”
