by Kelly Martin
Chapter Four
We sat together and ate what I will still to this day consider the best vegetable soup ever created on God's green Earth. If you'd tasted it, you'd feel the same way. It was awesome. I'd love another bowl right now. I'd love a lot of things right now, actually.
Through bites, we chatted. Small talk really. Where we were from? Why we were at Linley for college? All about my life in Oklahoma. Well, everything I wanted them to know. Might as well not let the mystery out all at once. I needed to maintain some mystery. The mysterious stranger in Linley.
"That was so good. Better than my mother's, but don't tell her." I said, happily stretched out in my seat. It was nice to have a full stomach on something besides junk food and soda. I checked my watch just from habit. 5:59.
"Do you have to work tonight, dear? Before you see Oliver, that is." Mrs. Bainbridge wiped her mouth and placed her napkin delicately on the table next to her empty soup bowl. Apparently, she liked the soup as much as I did.
J shook her head and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Not tonight. I have to work tomorrow night. Seven to Six instead of Twelve like I usually do. Then the day after that too. School will be fun with no sleep, but I have to do it. Emily's husband's having surgery and I have to pull a lot of hours this week."
I asked where she worked because I couldn't remember and she said, "All the way across the street, remember? I'm late night dispatch."
I could have smacked myself after she said it because I did, in fact, remember.
"It helps being a criminology major. At least that's what my brother says. I think he just wants cheap labor he can push around." J smiled. I liked it when she smiled.
"I got tonight off for good behavior. Plus, my brother thought I would need time to settle in here. Unpack and stuff."
About that time, as if right on cue, the doorbell chimed. It was a deep chime, one that sort of startled me at first. J looked at her phone. Her eyes got really wide and she jumped to her feet. "Not taking the time to 'unpack', are we?" Mrs. Bainbridge giggled from over her tea cup.
J's cheeks tinged pink and the doorbell rang again. This time twice. "I think he's getting impatient," she said before running out of the dining room and toward the front door.
I didn't exactly know what to do. One thing I did know was I shouldn't be jealous of Oliver Weston. So, he was going out with J. Big deal. I lived with her…
Mrs. Bainbridge leaned real close to me and motioned for me to do the same. So I did. "This is just between me and you." She whispered so low I had to strain to hear it. "Oliver is a nice enough young man. I've seen him in town and, of course, in the papers whenever he reached some monumental achievement in college sports. But I do know his father, Frank Weston, and I know his father's reputation. Please… do something for me. Keep an eye out for Jordan. She's young and Oliver is impressive with his good looks and his fancy car, but underneath… I just don't know. I like him, but I have a bad feeling about him, if that makes any sense."
Turns out, we all should have had a bad feeling about the Weston family. Every last one of them. As it was, I returned to a seated position and let her words saturate my mind.
"Promise me," she said again, this time with more force. "Promise you'll look after her."
"I promise," I said, not knowing the full extent of what I was promising, how it would turn out, or how that one promise would change my life.
It would be nice to go back to that time. Back to 'before time' as I like to think of it. When everything was new and we were just getting to know each other. It was exciting. Nerve-racking. But never really uncomfortable. If I could go back to that dining room table, with the three of us: me, Mrs. Bainbridge, and J — before the clock struck six. Before the events started that would change my world forever. I would do it in a second.
I miss it.
At the time, I didn't know how much.
I heard mumbling in the foyer and entryway. A few seconds later, J walked in, her hand clearly held by someone I couldn't see. "I wanted to introduce you guys so you don't think he's a stranger when he comes over. Mrs. Bainbridge, Walker Scott… this is Oliver Weston, my boyfriend."
Oliver appeared from behind the door with J's hand in his and I just stared. I'm secure enough in my manhood to say that I understood why J liked him. He had well-kempt dark blond hair, styled all neatly. He had — what do the girls call it? — piercing blue eyes. At first, he looked sort of intimidating with his expensive, gray sports jacket and darkish jeans that would probably cost me a month's pay to afford (working at the dry cleaners, I knew how much stuff cost. Not that I could afford it. I wore basic, normal clothes. Although I did have a few nice dress clothes if the situation called for it.)
My mama didn't raise me in a barn, as they say, so I did what any 'polite' person would do: I stood, stretched out my hand, and said, "Hi. I'm Walker."
Oliver looked at my hand like it was poisoned, filthy pond water. The look only lasted a second, but I saw it. And I knew he knew I saw it. That was the point. He wanted me to be intimidated by him. He was a Weston after all. I hadn't been in town long, but I knew enough to know that the Weston name had a certain pull to it. The Weston's owned the town and had for years if the names and dates on the buildings in Linley meant anything. We had those kinds of people in my hometown. I guess everyone does.
After the 'you are a gnat' look faded, he smiled his biggest award-winning smile (seriously, I could have counted his teeth… his sparkling, gleaming, shiny chompers.) "Oliver." He shook my hand hard enough to sting, and I'm not the smallest guy in the world. Maybe not as big as I was in my football hay day, but I wasn't a wimp. But this guy… wow. Oliver made sure to let me know right off he had a good, firm grip. And I wasn't stupid. I knew he was letting me know J was his. If I had any designs on her, they'd better go away quickly. And he was also letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that that he was the Alpha Male in the room.
It was fine with me. I had no intention of being the 'alpha male'. In my opinion, they were all brawny, egotistical, lying know-it-alls. And, also in my opinion, girls might like to date them, but they got tired of them before the marriage stage. So I'd let them make the mistakes of the 'rich alphas' and then I'd swoop in at marriage time. Cheaper that way too… Easier on the heart as well. I had my heart broken once. I'd be darned if I was going to allow it to happen again.
But I'd be lying if I didn't squeeze his hand just a little bit harder too, just because. Just to let him know that even though I knew he was 'top dog', I wasn't scared of him. His name meant nothing to me. I didn't care about his family or how rich they were. And I certainly wasn't there to steal his girl. Not at that moment anyway.
He grinned at my added pressure and added a little more to his. I reciprocated. He smirked. I smirked. We let go. That was it. Not a big moment in time, but it was a moment I'd never forget.
If I had my time to do over again, if I knew what I know now, I'd have bloodied his lip. Maybe even broken his jaw. Something. Now, I can't imagine how I stood in the same room with him. Then, I just thought he was an idiot. Truthfully, I was right.
It was J who broke the tension between us. "We are going to the movies tonight, Mrs. Bainbridge. I don't know how late we'll be back, so don't be alarmed if you hear footsteps around midnight."
"Oh no," Oliver said with his dazzling smile. "I have class at 8 a.m. so we can't be out that late. I don't want to be tired."
"It's only the first week of school." I laughed before I could stop it. "I mean, how much is there to learn during the first week?"
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Oliver's eyes got darker than they already were. "I'm a pre-law major. Every day is important. What's your major, or are you undeclared like most of the other freshmen here?"
Even I saw J's jaw set. I had to wonder if he was rubbing it in her face that she was a "lowly" freshman. Now that I know him… really know him… I know the answer. He was rubbing it in her face. He was a bastard like that.<
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"English. I'm an English major. I want to be a writer."
It was Oliver's time to laugh. And by laugh, I mean he threw his head back and guffawed, which echoed around the room. A few seconds later, he looked at me and his face hardened. "Oh, you're serious? I thought you were joking. I mean, who in their right mind would major in English? Writers are a dime a dozen. How hard is it to write a book? Even I can string two sentences together."
I had my mouth open to speak and I had lots of words — some of them not so good words, mind you — ready to pour out. For the record, it's not easy to write a book. It takes time, energy, a clear mind… and imagination. Clearly all things Mr. SnootyPants didn't have. And I could do a lot with an English degree. I could be a journalist, a writer, an editor… I could even teach English someday if I wanted. It wasn't a dumb major and it wasn't an easy major.
And I wanted to tell him all of that.
But J cut me off before I could utter even one syllable. "Oliver, we really need to go. Especially if you have to be home early. We need to get going before the seven o'clock showing starts." She grabbed his hand in hers and I wanted to jerk it away.
He smirked at me. "Yeah. Let's go. Very nice to meet you, Walker. Do enjoy your English studies." He had a hint of laughter in his voice. Okay, it wasn't just a hint. It was a full out laughing-in-my-face-but-doing-it-properly tone.
I decided to let it go. Hopefully, I'd never see him again. I was on the third floor and she was on the second. At the time, I knew if I ever saw Oliver Weston again, it would be too soon. And I was so right.