Having been on the receiving end of more than a few of Jackson's biting remarks, Lola let his words roll off her like water off a duck's back.  She knew he was trying to avoid any further entanglements with Abby, although tonight he didn't seem to have been trying very hard at all.  Lola supposed she should be pleased that Layla had managed to wrangle his attention away from the small redhead who looked so much like his dead love, he was less likely to become emotionally attached to Layla, but she wasn't feeling particularly grateful about anything right at the moment.  In fact, she was fighting the urge to jump up and down and scream in his face about how selfish he was being, and didn't he realise that her world was about to come crashing down around her?<br/><br/>His comment about Trixie's caught her off guard, and she looked up at him sharply.  He wouldn't, would he?  She couldn't imagine not seeing him every few months, never knowing if he was okay, or even alive.  She opened her mouth to apologise, but she was too slow.  He was already halfway across the saloon floor, striding purposefully towards the stairs, and Layla's bed.  Tears welled in Lola's eyes as she watched his retreating back.  What was she thinking, fighting with Jackson?  He was the one person she'd always been able to count on.  The one person who'd always been there when she needed someone.  Especially after what had happened with Emmett.  They never spoke of it, but she suspected that Jackson still felt the weight of responsibility for her husband's death.  Emmett had been his best friend, after all.<br/><br/>Carefully patting away her unshed tears with the lace handkerchief she kept stowed in her sleeve, Lola closed her eyes and took a slow, calming breath.  It seemed there would be no talking her problem over with Jackson. At least, not tonight.  She glanced up at him just as his back turned toward her.  Had he hesitated on the stairs? Did he have the same urge to apologise that she did?  And if he did, how could he turn away and leave her crying?<br/><br/>Lola rose from the booth, hitching what she hoped was her best smile into place.  Crying over her problems would do her no good at all, and it wasn't like this was the first fight that she and Jackson had ever had, nor would it be the last.  She would apologise to him later, and maybe try to talk the Desmond King dilemma over with him too.  Although perhaps it would be prudent to wait until Mr King was no longer in the saloon.  Jackson was likely to try to find a permanent solution to the problem, and Lola couldn't risk him being thrown into jail over a situation that was hers to deal with.  Pushing all such thoughts to the back of her mind, the elegant hostess began mingling with her customers once again.  It was a testament to her acting skills that not a single one of them realised that Lola was anything less than her usual delightful, engaging self.  For the first time since she opened<em>Lola's</em>, she considered accepting all the drinks offered her.  Perhaps it was time to break her rules a little.  If Mr King had his way, the rules may not be hers to break for very much longer.