That son of a bitch had her at their first, “Fuck you!”
“We were quite a dynamic duo,” Josie dared to admit.
“Remember that story we did on the Transit Authority?” Although they were merely cub reporters at one of the local New York tabloids, together, they exposed a huge bonus scam within the executive branch of one of the city’s largest agencies that was geared toward helping the disabled. Josie and Oliver were both promoted for their journalistic efforts. As a team, they were unstoppable—invincible. Although she’d preserved that gusto in her own career, she missed that euphoria they’d built together.
“Pretty damn sharp for a pair of twenty-somethings.”
“We had chemistry, Rossi.” Relaxing now on the couch, Oliver watched her every move as Josie settled into a slight state of melancholy. “I’m not even suggesting we go there again, but those early days in this mean business were some of the best memories of my career.”
As she considered allowing him to return to her life, albeit at arm’s length, Josie mulled over the memories. He’d broken her damn heart, she reminded herself. She had every right to stand up and walk out on him, just like he’d done to her.
However, something deep inside her mind nagged her to stay.
Raising his second pint, he narrowed his gaze. “Truce?”
Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Josie willed herself to distance her fucking memories from the reality of this little scenario. Maybe she still had some growing up to do, too.
With great reluctance, she slowly lifted her glass. “Truce…”
“I really hope you believe in my sincerity here. We don’t have to be—”
“Best friends…” she interjected.
“No, we don’t have to be best friends, but maybe we’ll grab a drink after that next press conference.”
“I’ll have a story to file first…” Josie’s own mother taught her that her career came before all men, and she held to that sentiment tightly.
As the sun faded above them, Oliver’s thoughts wandered to those early days. Josie was even prettier now with that hair and those sparkling eyes. He, too, had to take a step back. This unexpected meeting shook him to his core, but he would never let her know.
“You’re a quick writer,” he dismissed her excuse. “You can pound out copy faster than the strike of lightning. Even now, I’ve watched you from a distance as you filed from your iPhone. You can at least have a drink with me.”
Oliver’s revelation that he still observed her slightest moves could have easily shredded her last bit of composure, so Josie played it safe and distanced herself. “I’m having one with you now.”
“And it’s not so bad after all, is it?”
While she could forgive him, she still had far too much to say to him. Josie refused to let him get away with their stormy past so easily. For the evening, though, she decided to reacquaint herself with Oliver. They were both different people now, or so he claimed. One strike would put him out of the game forever, but she could at least afford him the chance to prove her wrong.
Oliver didn’t wait for her to answer and continued their conversation. “Your mom must be proud of you.”
Josie’s mother was a noted journalist in her own right. Camille Rossi had been a champion for feminism and women’s rights, and she’d won more awards than Josie ever dreamed of receiving in her entire career. Camille’s books always made the bestseller lists, and she was a frequent pundit on the cable news circuit.
Expectations remained high for her only child. When Josie decided on Columbia’s School of Journalism, Josie knew she had a legacy to match, if not exceed. In some ways, Oliver often felt sorry for Josie. She not only had the pressure of living up to her last story, but she also had to prove to the media world that her mother’s talent and energy lived on through her work.
Now, he admired Josie’s strength in having built a name for herself. He wished he could convey those thoughts to her, but he’d already said enough.
“She and Fairy Godfather were in the front row the night I won the award.” Camille’s gay best friend, Alex, had been a mainstay in Josie’s life, even before she was born. In the absence of her real father—a man she’d never met named Luca with whom Camille had a fleeting affair in Rome—Alex always stepped in when Josie needed a male figure. Long ago, she’d dubbed him with the affectionate moniker, Fairy Godfather, because Josie always said that he erased all the evil of the world with the wave of his magic wand.
“And how is Alex?”
Minutes ago, she wanted to slug him. Now, Oliver had calmed her down with his cordial inquiries about her personal life. Torn, she wanted to run…but she needed to stay.
“Alex is doing well. He just retired. He’s a little bored. And he spends even more time obsessing over my life now. But he’s still my regular theater date, and he still helps me make definitive fashion choices.” If for no other reason than to make small talk, she felt she should reciprocate and inquire about his family. “What about the Billingtons?”
Deeply rooted in New England, Oliver’s ties to his parents and sister ran deep. His lineage traced back to the Mayflower, and he upheld his pride in his roots. Admittedly, he had a privileged upbringing with the wealth of old money to fund his whims. Josie’s family also prospered over the years, but her great-grandparents were immigrants who built one of New York City’s longest-running steakhouses that dated back to prohibition. She actually worked at the coat check at the restaurant as a teenager and throughout college. Camille always had plenty of money to share—both from her inheritance and from her own career—but she also wanted to instill the ethic of hard work in her daughter.
“Well, Dad tried to retire, but he keeps himself a little too busy consulting. My sister finally got married. My mother is convinced she’s the best grandmother ever to walk the earth. And I will say that I have the greatest, smartest niece in the world. And she thinks I’m a pretty cool uncle.”
Josie couldn’t picture him in the same room with a child, let alone getting down on the floor to play. Maybe Oliver changed more than she thought.
“What’s so funny?” Oliver leaned in close to Josie and raised his hand as if he were about to brush the hair from her eyes. However, he stopped short of physical contact.
While she continued to chuckle, a ruckus seemed to stir within the restaurant with the crash of plates and the boisterous cacophony of people shouting. Likely, some barroom brawl broke out. For now, they just sat in place, feeling safe in the back of the bistro.
“Well, I guess I never thought of you in that capacity—with kids,” she explained, as she craned her neck to see if she could spot the source of all the noise through the back door. “You were always…”
“Self-absorbed?” Oliver prompted her. “It’s alright. I can take it.”
“Yes, self-absorbed.” Finally, she allowed herself to smile. “And I’m not one to mince words.”
Blinking wildly, he turned away from her and shook his head. He deserved that. Hell, Oliver knew she was being kind. Josie could have told him to fuck off at first sight, but she stuck it out and sat beside him to have a drink.
All the while, sitting so close to her, Oliver couldn’t deny his inkling that time was running out. He had so much to tell her, and now he feared this might be his last chance. “I wouldn’t disagree with you,” he admitted. “But Rossi, did you ever stop to think that you might be the one who—”
His words, though, broke off, cut short when the melee that started inside the restaurant spread to the terrace. Face frozen in shock and fear, Oliver jumped over the cushion between them to cover Josie. “Don’t fucking move!”
BLINDSIDED
by Juliet Braddock
Coming Soon!
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[JN1]
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SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit) Page 48