Havana Adams - Black Diamond

“It was nice of you to visit me,” Lola said as she turned around to face her mother again. As they stood toe to toe, Lola felt a thrill of realisation; she and Scarlet were now the same height, when had that happened?

“Don’t turn this into a big deal,” Scarlet muttered looking everywhere but at her. At her mother’s words Lola felt a wave of anger, she had an overwhelming desire to upend the contents of her glass over Scarlet’s head but instead she took a deep breath and tried to remember the calming techniques that they’d discussed in group therapy.

“You look pretty in that dress, I picked that for you.”

Lola shook her head with a small smile, always the same Scarlet. Why bother with an apology when a pointless compliment might do the job? Lola felt the anger drain out of her. She was done being Scarlet’s trophy, she had her own life to lead and a plan that she had set in motion months ago.

“I’m moving to New York next year,” Lola said firming her shoulders. “I’ll get my GED and I’m going to NYU, to the drama school.” For a long moment, mother and daughter stared at each other and then Scarlet spoke.

“Do I get a say?”

“No,” Lola replied and then stopped as Scarlet reached for her, her mother’s hand snaking out to grasp her forearm. They so rarely touched each other that it surprised Lola and she looked into Scarlet’s eyes surprised by what she saw. Scarlet seemed almost regretful.

“Lola, the thing is…”

“Heeeeey!” Both Scarlet and Lola jumped at the squealed interruption and even as Lola was stepping away from her mother, another body was launching herself at her, flinging skinny arms around her neck. “You’re back.” Amber. Lola smiled and turned to her best friend of ten years, barely noticing that Scarlet had disappeared back into the house, melting away into the throng of party guests.

“I am fucking back,” Lola replied taking a look at Amber who was spilling out of a Tom Ford for Gucci dress, with a giant cut-out side that exposed her tiny waist.

“Six months goes so fast,” Amber said. Lola grimaced.

“Not if you’re the one locked up in hell.”

“Sorry sweetie, God was it awful? Did they keep you on lockdown and give you sponge baths, did someone try to make you their bitch?” As always, words seem to leap out of Amber’s mouth, as though she didn’t need to pause for breath or even thought. Lola smiled, she was back.

“Amb, it was a $4000 a night rehab facility not prison. Trust me there were hot showers, cordon bleu chefs and more than a few Teen Beat heart throbs.”

“For real?” Amber squealed. “Let’s blow this place, get a drink and you can tell me everything.” Noting the tightening of Lola’s expression, Amber shrugged. “Fine, you’ve changed, I’ll drink and you can be our designated driver.”

“I can’t blow this place yet. Scarlet wants me to mingle and be the perfect daughter.” Amber sighed.

“Fine, I guess I can get wasted here.”

“For sure,” Lola smiled as they moved towards the house together.

They were turning heads.

Lola and Amber had always turned heads, from grade school to high school, wherever they went. It was no surprise given that they were total opposites. Where Lola was black, tall with curves that supermodels went under the knife to achieve, Amber was tiny, only just hitting 5ft, with freckled, milky-white skin and fire-engine red hair. What she lacked in height, Amber more than made up for in curves and personality. It helped too that both Lola and Amber were as close to royalty as Hollywood got.

Lola, as the only child of actress Scarlet Wilde, always commanded interest and though Scarlet had largely disappeared from the public eye, Lola still raised interest among the Californian elite in which she’d been raised. Her adoption, her expulsions from various prep schools and her notoriously rocky relationship with Scarlet, who’d realised too late that you couldn’t back out of motherhood when it started to impinge on your social life, had become the stuff of legend. Lola’s first arrest had briefly made it on to the Entertainment Weekly round-up, on a slow news day. Like her mother before her, it was said that Lola knew how to put the wild in Wilde. As for Amber Logan, daughter of the renowned cinematographer Lucien Logan and the deceased Alicia Logan, Playmate of the Year 1987, she too had had a similarly documented childhood. Like her best friend, Amber was known to play hard but unlike Lola, Amber’s greatest skill lay in her ability to never get caught.

“So you’re being a good girl tonight.”

Lola grimaced as she felt the whispered words against her ear and a persistent hand stroking her shoulder. She should have stayed in the living room, in full view of the other guests. On the deserted back patio, Lola glared at Stefano, step-father number three or was it number four? She stepped away giving herself some distance from Stefano who, even in his days as her “daddy”, had always had a touch that lingered too long.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lola replied sharply and looked back into the kitchen window, where she could see Amber was glugging down another Absinthe cocktail while holding court with some producers. Lola had had enough. “I’m going,” she told Stefano shortly and began to walk back into the house. She felt his clammy paw on her arm, pulling her back and she had no choice but to stop.

“Lola, you break my heart,” Stefano said, throwing a hand to his head in a melodramatic flourish. Stefano’s melodramatic flourishes had won him several awards as a musical composer but Lola had always been wary of him.

“Stefano, I’m going,” she repeated as firmly as she could without causing a scene. She tugged at her arm and after a moment Stefano let her go. Without a backward glance Lola marched towards Amber, determined to get them away from the party.

“Oh Jesus Amber,” Lola stepped back and watched as her friend emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Lola held up a hand towel to her friend as Amber washed her face in the basin and then stumbled out of the en suite into her bedroom, where she sprawled onto Lola’s bed.

“Sleep,” Amber muttered and within seconds, her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling evenly.

“Shit,” Lola muttered and, with a sigh, she turned the lamp down, leaving only a small orange glow in her large bedroom and then she exited the room, closing the door gently behind her. From downstairs, Lola could hear the dull murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses and bursts of laughter. She contemplated heading back to the party, when suddenly, in the darkened hallway, she felt arms on either side of her body. Immediately, Lola froze and then she began to struggle against the warm heavy bands that caged her against the door.

“It’s only me.” Stefano’s slurred words came against her ear and Lola recoiled as he tried to kiss her.

“Stop it,” she shouted but almost immediately his hand was against her mouth, smothering her words.

“We don’t have to pretend any more.”

With a muffled scream of fury, Lola forced her mouth open and she sank her teeth into Stefano’s fingers. He let out a scream and in that split second, Lola raised her knee to his groin and felt a wave of satisfaction as he doubled over.

“You fucking bitch,” Stefano screamed. He lashed out with one of his arms but Lola ground down on his foot with her stiletto and watched him yelp in pain.

“You are a disgusting pig and I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth. I am going to New York and I don’t ever want to see you near me. You ever come near me again and I will call the cops. ” Lola started for the stairs, knowing that Stefano’s inebriated fog was clearing. It was the furthest he had ever gone and she could already see him starting to rationalise his actions.