Lola
(65
The alarm dragged her out of sleep at 5:30 a.m. She groaned, shoved her glasses onto her face, tugged on joggers and a cropped hoodie, then bent over the bed. A kiss to Enzo’s jaw, then his lips.
“I’ve gotta go,” she whispered. “I’ll see you when we get back.” Another kiss, softer. “I love you.”
His hand found her hip, squeezing even half–asleep. “Be safe.”
One more kiss, and she slipped out before his worry could take root.
The salon buzzed faintly with blow dryers, early chatter, and the sharp–clean smell of product. Babbs was already waiting, perched on her stool with an iced coffee in hand.
“Lo, it’s barely sunrise,” Babbs said, giving her a once–over as she dropped into the chair. “And you’re already wearing the exhaustion chic look. Glasses and all.”
“New trend,” Lola muttered, tugging her hood back. “Limited edition.”
Babbs clipped her cape around her shoulders, comb already moving. “So–are we finally doing it?”
“Yep. Red’s out.” Lola tipped her head back, glasses catching the light. “Silver–white. Layers. Choppy curtain bang. The whole deal.”
Babbs let out a low whistle. “Like Storm from X–Men? Bold. You’ll stop traffic.”
“That’s the idea,” Lola said with a sly smirk.
As Babbs worked, she asked, “Need me to line up any makeup slots while you’re gone?”
“Yeah. Schedule a few for when I’m back.” Lola adjusted in the chair, then added casually, “And order more wigs. All kinds. I want options.”
Babbs arched a brow in the mirror. “Didn’t peg you as a wig collector.”
“Let’s just say I like variety.” Lola’s smile was sharp, unreadable.
Babbs didn’t push, just nodded. “Fine. I’ll pull some good ones. On the tab?”
“Always.”
Two hours later, the woman in the mirror was a stranger. Silver–white hair spilled down Lola’s shoulders in sharp layers, catching the light like silk. Wispy bangs softened her face, and Babbs had blown it smooth before mussing it just enough to look effortless. Paired with her glasses, it was sharp and soft at once.
“Damn,” Lola said, fingers brushing the strands. “You nailed it.”
“Of course I did,” Babbs replied smugly, snapping a picture for her files. “Red was fire, but this? This is dangerous.”
1/4
10:59 Wed, Oct 8 M.
Chapter 129
Lola grabbed her tote, already running late. “Book me those slots. And pick out something fun with the wigs.”
“You got it,” Babbs said, sipping her iced coffee as Lola bolted.
The SUV idled at the curb, Dom slouched in the passenger seat, Nico leaning against the open door scrolling his phone.
“Sorry, sorry!” Lola called, jogging up the steps.
Both men looked up–then froze.
Dom’s brows slammed together. Nico’s phone nearly slipped out of his hand.
“Who the fuck-” Dom started.
A
55
“Lo?” Nico cut in, staring like she’d just shape shifted.
She grinned, sliding into the seat, silver hair swinging, glasses perched low. “What, you don’t recognize me?”
Dom twisted all the way around in his seat. “Recognize you? You look like a whole different person. What the hell happened to the red?”
Lola flipped her new hair over one shoulder. “Upgrade. You like?”
Nico dragged a hand down his face, still staring. “Like? Jesus, Lo–you look like an assassin disguised as a model.”
Dom shook his head, scandalized. “You can’t just do that without warning people. I almost reached for my gun.”
Lola smirked, tugging the seatbelt into place. “Good. Means it worked.”
The San Diego hotel lobby gleamed–glass, chrome, and too–bright morning. Lola led the pack to the front desk, Nico and Dom flanking her; six shadows with luggage fanned out behind.
“Of course.” Stephanie’s lashes fluttered at Nico. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate. I’d be more than happy to give you a… hand.”
10:59 Wed, Oct 8 M
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