Elly in Love (The Elly Series) (33 page)

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.

Brittany shrugged. “Maybe she had to go.”

Elly didn’t relish climbing over the group of intoxicated children that her entourage had now become, so she also ducked under the table and crawled out from underneath it. She crawled across the lush white shag carpeting, aware that her boobs were now bouncing out of her shirt, that she had no shoes on, and that she had never looked more out of place. When she stood up, her hair, which had looked so good before, was now plastered across the front of her head.
Enough!
She pulled a clip out of her pocket and clipped her blond curls back from her face. She was done caring about fitting in with this silly crowd. She passed three waiters who ignored her requests on how to find the restroom before a kind busboy pointed out the hidden entrance, marked by a single chain hanging from the ceiling with handcuffs dangling from it.
Oh my gosh, where am I?

Elly pushed her way into the bathroom, where a few women were leaning over the sink, purging, plucking, or just staring vacantly into the mirror. There was a small cluster of people near the back of the cavernous restroom, and Elly heard the word “Lola” murmured amongst a few birdlike women. She pushed her way toward them—as far as she could tell, clubbing was all about the constant act of pushing —and finally made her way to a closed bathroom stall. “Lola?” She pushed open the stall door and stepped inside, latching it behind her.

Lola was standing in the corner of the stall, bent over the toilet. With hands shaking, she was holding a small pillbox filled with white powder.

Oh, hell no
. This was
not
happening.

With a single motion, Elly smacked the box out of Lola’s hands, and it skittered across the floor, spilling white powder on the glossy tiles.

Lola looked up at Elly aghast. “What? Why did you do that? Who do you think you are?”

“Uh, no. Just
no
. You are not doing that in my presence.” Elly could feel the rule follower in her panicking.
Was it illegal to just be standing next to this kind of drug?
She had to get out of here. She was going to get arrested, her face splashed on the cover of the
St. Louis Dispatch
. “Florist Found In Room With Unconscious Celebrity … And Drugs.”

She grabbed Lola’s arm gently and pulled her toward the entrance. “We are going home. You are done for tonight. I promise, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“No!” cried Lola. “Let me go! I’m having a good time. Joe is never going to marry me, anyway! He’s too good for me, and I’m such a screwup.” She began crying loudly, the shots of alcohol making her motions slow and dramatic. “I’ll never be worth his love. I used to be a good girl. Chloe turned me into this….”

Once they emerged from the bathroom, there were a million bodies again, still pushing up against Lola, each one desperate to say they touched someone who regularly graced the cover of
People
magazine.

Elly gestured to a waiter. “Is there a back entrance? Tell us now.”

The waiter nodded and began leading them through the bowels of the club, each hallway darker than the next. Elly’s phone was out and she began rapidly dialing. First Kim: “This is the Creedens, leave a message after the tone.”

“Arrgghh!” She dialed again.

“Hey, you’ve reached Anthony’s cell phone, get back to you as soon as I can!”

With a frown, she scrolled down her contact list. Keith Home. Keith Cell. Keith’s Deli. Nope. Nope. Nope. Although, if she needed anyone right now, it was Keith. Finally, she dialed her home number.

“Hullo?”

“Dennis, hey, it’s Elly.”

“Oh. Hey.”

“Listen, I need a huge favor. I need you to get my car and pick me up at this club downtown.”

“Uh, sorry. Can I come a little later, like in three hours or so? Can’t you get a taxi?”

“Absolutely not.” Lola was edging on unconsciousness and Elly was struggling to drag her to the door as she flailed and cried.
A taxi driver would talk. Take pictures. The last thing Lola needed.
“I need you to come
right
now.”

“Sorry. Can’t.”

“Why? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just that I’m about to level up here. Um, Ahora is on, and we are doing a raid that we’ve been preparing for months. I can’t just leave my guild and Ahora. They are depending on me! I’m a tank, don’t you understand?”

“No. I don’t.
Dennis
.” Elly gritted her teeth and willed herself not to yell as Lola slumped against her shoulder, sobbing about Chloe and Joe and animated films. “I don’t know how to say this without being rude, but you need to get the car keys and get your butt down here to pick me up. I need you,
now
, right now, in the real world.”

There was a long pause. “Elly, I can’t. Gotta go. Sorry.” She could hear the game in the background. “Dennis! Don’t you dare hang up on me, I need you to—” The phone went dead. Rage rose up within Elly, and she momentarily pictured herself strangling her brother. She looked down at her phone and, with a sigh, started searching for her last resort.

Twenty-five minutes later, Snarky Teenager’s shiny silver Jetta pulled up in the alley behind the club. Inside, Elly could hear a growing commotion about where Lola had gone. It was only a matter of time before the paparazzi came around the corner, and then Lola, drunk and barely clinging to consciousness, would be splashed across every newspaper and entertainment news program for the next week. There would be “experts” on to diagnose her, and well-meaning (i.e., fame-seeking) friends who would come out of the woodwork to express concern for her safety. She would be humiliated, and the wedding would surely be called off. And before she met her, Elly would have watched every minute of it. But not now. Elly had always prided herself on loving her clients, and caring for their needs. Usually, their needs were floral, and not say, making sure that they didn’t choke on their own vomit, but hey, her job description had always been a bit vague anyways.

Snarky Teenager bounced around the car, took one look at Lola, and sighed, “
Love
her dress,” before pushing her head-down into the car. Elly bent down to tuck her feet in. “Are you barefoot? What are you …?” She gasped so loud that Elly almost dropped Lola. “Oh my god! Look at your boobs right now!”

Elly looked down. They were practically bursting out of her shirt. “Yes, I know. I look ridiculous.”

Snarky Teenager shook her head. “No way! Look at them! You should dress like that every day! We would have so many more customers! I want to poke them!”

Elly went around to the passenger side and climbed in the car. “That’s never going to happen.”

Snarky Teenager sighed. “Okay. Where are we taking her?”

“Well, I’m not sure where she lives, or even where she is staying, so we’ll take her to my house. She can sleep over, and in the morning, I’ll take her home. But before that, I might murder my brother. I believe it might be legal in this case.” She recapped her conversation with Dennis.

Snarky Teenager bit her lip. “You
should
kill him when you get home. He’s having a hard time though, I think. A haircut might help.”

Elly patted her on the shoulder. “Thanks for picking us up. I owe you one.”

“Make me manager.”

“That’s not happening. We’ve talked about this.”

“Why are you so mean to me?”

“You think everyone is mean to you.”

Snarky Teenager kept her eyes glued to the road. “I could be manager. I’m responsible. You never believe me. You never believe anyone.”

Elly looked back at Lola as she gave a loud yawn, followed by a smacking of lips. “We have a bona fide wasted celebrity who might throw up in the back of your car. Can we maybe talk about this later?”

Snarky Teenager pursed her lips. “At least it would be Lola Plumb’s vomit.”

After that, they stayed silent for the drive home. The flashing lights of hungry photographers were left behind as the tiny car crawled back toward the comfortable darkness of an affluent and quiet suburb.

When Elly opened her eyes the next morning, the house was eerily quiet. There was no creaking sound of Dennis raiding the cereal shelf, or the strange, ethereal music that accompanied his game. All was silent. She sat up in bed.
Something was wrong
. Wrapping her robe around her PJ shorts and tank top, Elly made her way to the living room. Misty morning light poured through her bay window, bathing the entire room in a gray haze that highlighted circling dust particles. Lola was sleeping on the couch, her tiny body curled up next to Elly’s pillows, covered by one of her mother’s quilts. Her mouth hung slightly open, and even with the large mascara streaks that ran down her cheeks, she looked like a movie star.
A very damaged and fragile movie star.
Dennis was sitting on the floor about a foot away from her, sitting perfectly still and staring at her face with rapt adoration.

“Dennis!”

His face turned toward her with disbelief. “Lola Plumb is sleeping on our couch.”

“You look like a total creep. Get away from her.”

He shook his head. “No way. I can feel her breath on my face.”

Elly sighed as she began rooting around the fridge for the orange juice. There was a yelp behind her, and she spun around.

Lola was on her feet, teetering back and forth in the living room. “Where am I?
Where am I?
”

Elly walked over to her and made her sit back down on the couch. “You are at my house. Remember? I’m Elly? Your florist?”

Lola looked at her with blurry eyes. “And?”

Elly took her hand gently and passed her some orange juice.

Her eyes narrowed. “Coffee?”

Dennis leapt up. “I’ll get some!” He rushed over to Elly’s purse, pulled out a few dollars, and dashed out the door.

“Who was that?” Lola asked, rubbing her forehead. “My brother. He’s currently not my favorite person.”

“I’m probably not, either. I don’t remember anything after getting to that club, the one with the circus people.”

“The Supper Club?” offered Elly.

Lola groaned. “Honestly, they all look the same to me. Joe’s going to have a fit when he sees the pictures.”

“There won’t be any pictures. We got out of that club without the paparazzi seeing you. The only pictures will be of you leaving Pierre’s, looking put together and sober.”

Lola shook her head as tears began rolling down her cheeks. “Why do I do this to myself? Why can’t I just stop? Why is it so hard?”

Elly didn’t have an answer for that, so she just sat beside her and held her hand while she cried. Finally, Lola took a shaky sip of orange juice. “Oh. That’s good. That’s really good.”

“If I may …,” said Elly tenderly.

“Yes? Tell me. Anything.” Lola attempted to pull her long tresses back into a bun.

Elly took a deep breath. “I think you might have the world’s worst friends. I’m serious. Lola, those people are terrible. It’s no wonder you can’t stay sober—they don’t want you to. Their partying depends on your fame, and your fame, unfortunately, right now depends on you partying.”

Lola sniffed adorably. “I know. I know, they’re awful. The only real friend I ever had was Chloe. We were more like sisters than friends. I would have died for her. But then … just like that, it all fell apart. It turns out she was using me, too. Everyone uses me, and then when they are done, they just let me sink into my own ridiculous world and drown.”

Elly reached for the tissue box as she was struck by the thought that this was really happening.
She was consoling Lola Plumb in her living room.
Oh well. Stranger things had happened to her. “There was a time when I thought I would drown, too. I was floundering, and there comes a point where your friends and those who truly do care about you can only do so much. You have to decide to kick. You decide to kick and swim for your life. As terrible as they are, your friends didn’t shove those drinks down your throat, and they didn’t make you go into the bathroom and snort crack.”

Lola raised her head. “That wasn’t crack.”

Elly put her hand up. “I don’t even want to know what it is. What I’m saying is that Joe … Joe loves you. He seems to believe in you. Why are you wasting time with anyone who doesn’t want the best for you?”

Lola leaned against her shoulder and Elly sat stiffly on the couch, trying to look at ease. “You’re my friend, right Elly?”

Elly nodded. “Yes. I am. Listen, why don’t I take you home?”

Lola smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just call my driver. And Elly?”

Elly stood up. “Yes?”

“Thanks,” whispered Lola. “I’m really not a bad girl.”

Elly’s heart broke a little. “I see who you are, Lola.”

With relief, Lola sank back against the couch, her eyes closing slowly. A few minutes later, her driver pulled up at the curb to take Lola away. Elly walked her to the car, her eyes burning from her late night. Elly gave Lola a gentle hug, wishing that she could take away all her struggles and pain, and absorb it into her soft body.
There was room to spare, couldn’t she spare this girl some pain?

Just before the limo pulled away from the curb, Lola rolled down the window as Elly turned to go. “Elly?”

“Yes?”

“Do whatever you want with my wedding flowers.”

“Really?”

“I trust you. Whatever you think is best.”

“I think I can come up with something that will make you and Gemma both happy.”

Lola slid on her huge sunglasses. “That’s assuming there will be a wedding after Joe hears about last night.”

“Honesty is best.”