She’d look great, have him on her arm for the photos, and as she introduced herself to the donors, but as long as he had my panties in his pocket, I didn’t care. I’d be winning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I’d gotten the perfect dress from Bobbi’s little boutique in New York City and was even more excited for the day of the gala to arrive.
After returning to Miami, I kept my distance from Lola and only appeared when she needed me. She was busy with organizing the event, and I didn’t want to come off as clingy. Not only that, but I had to work too.
Ladies with Passion needed me, and as easily as I could have sabotaged the entire gala by working for Lola, I needed this one night to work in my favor.
I deserved to attend the Passion Gala. I deserved to dress up, look pretty, and mingle like a normal person . . . or perhaps I was getting spoiled with this new life of mine, becoming obsessed with material things instead of my original motive. Didn’t matter. I could take a little break from that. I wanted this night, and you know how I get when I don’t get the things I want. I work harder at getting it.
But there was one little problem—well, a really big problem, actually—that I’d completely forgotten about until I saw Lola the next morning.
Lola and I were supposed to be getting coffee and discussing the final itinerary for the gala. She wanted to know my thoughts on the schedule and wanted to ask my opinion on a pair of shoes Bobbi had suggested she wear with her dress.
Instead of doing that, though, Lola bustled into the coffee shop, met me as I waited in line for a coffee, and said, “Guess what?”
Confused by her excitement, I asked, “What’s up?”
“You’ll never believe it, but I got a call from Keke’s mother this morning.”
As soon as she said Keke’s name, my heart plummeted to my stomach. Fucking Keke. I’d forgotten all about her, Marriott!
“Keke is finally awake!” Lola squealed.
Shit. Those were not the words I wanted to hear that day, especially not a month before the Passion Gala. All those weeks spent building up to the gala and getting so much one-on-one time with Lola, and I’d let my duty of checking on Keke fail me. I knew it was only a matter of time before she’d wake up, but thought surely I’d get at least another week without issues.
It was just like her to interrupt while things were finally running smoothly. I’d become the number one lady in Lola’s life, and now she was back. Just like that, ready to shove me out of the way and be in Lola’s face all over again.
“That’s great, Lola!” It fucking was not. This was bad. Really bad. “Is she doing okay?” I started to ask, “Does she remember anything?” but decided against it.
“Her mother said she’s doing fine but that she wants to see me. Let’s take our coffees to go and pay her a little visit. I’m sure she’d love to see you too.”
“Keke hates me,” I said with a nervous laugh as Lola waved at the barista who was waiting to take our order.
“That’s absurd. She’ll be happy to see you.”
Shit . . . would she? Would she remember everything that happened? All the way down to the very last detail? She’d suffered a lot of head trauma from what Lola was told, but she was conscious, and there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t remember who pushed her.
We took our coffees to go and I sat in the passenger seat of Lola’s Tesla, my heart banging hard against my rib cage and my palms sweaty.
Lola was thrilled. All she kept talking about was how much Bailey had missed Keke and couldn’t wait to talk to her mommy again.
When she pulled up to the hospital, my tongue felt swollen in my mouth. Lola parked and unclipped her seat belt in a flash. I unclipped mine slowly, pushing open the car door and stepping out.
It was unbelievably humid and my tank top stuck to me like glue, my jeans feeling twice as heavy on my legs. My knees almost gave out on me, but I kept it together, following the ever-so-eager Lola to the entrance of the hospital.
She checked in, and as soon as she had the green light, off she went, going straight down the hallway to Keke’s room.
I lingered behind as everyone in the hospital moved in quick paces. Maybe if I’d made an excuse and told her I wasn’t feeling well, I could have avoided seeing Keke. I could have pretended to pass out. That could have worked, right?
My heart was beating harder.
I didn’t want to do this, but what could I say to get out of it? It would have been wrong not to show my face, pay a little respect to Lola’s dear friend who suffered a horrible fall.