I Love You to Pieces

by Lori Flynn

  Olivia had previously received clearance for newspaper ads and billboards that featured the photogenic Lily, sporting her bright pink cast that read, ‘Will you walk for me?’ Before it slipped her mind, she wrote herself a note to increase her event staff to assist with distribution of the T-shirts and bandanas and added it to the clutter.

  Just after noon, while on the phone with a potential donor, she sensed a presence lurking at her door. “Did you forget your bell?” Olivia asked as she ended the call. She expected Gretchen to be looking back at her. Seeing Ben lounging against the frame, a flush of adrenaline rushed through her.

  “I must have missed that memo. Should I have brought a bell? I did come bearing gifts. Well, make that food. I planned to call and ask you out to lunch but then remembered you saying you wouldn’t have time to breathe for a while with this fundraiser going on. I took that to mean eating was most likely off your short list. So, I did the next best thing.” Ben raised his hand and displayed a large paper bag.

  “I got this from your favorite deli.”

  A smile trembled over her lips. “You’re too good to me, Ben. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you came in with whatever’s in that bag. It smells great.”

  “I have to admit, I was strong-armed by those friends of yours to make sure you ingested solid food now and then, not just coffee. You do eat when you’re alone, don’t you?”

  “Is this lunch or an inquisition?” Olivia lowered her eyes as she nibbled the turkey and cheese sandwich. She gave him credit; he had done his homework and brought her usual order. Did he treat all his clients like this?

  Ben listened while Olivia spoke of the events planned for the walk-a-thon. She made her way from venue to venue and incorporated her colorful boards that showcased what promised to be a huge success for Paws for Love. Her grey eyes sparkled as Ben took in every word.

  Lily lifted her head and yawned, the aroma of food arousing her from her nap. She enjoyed a final stretch and followed her nose to Ben, there to lift her.

  “I didn’t know if you’d come to say hello since you’re a big star. I brought you a little something.” Ben reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a gourmet dog cookie shaped like a diamond ring.

  Lily whined, waiting for Ben to discard the cellophane wrapping, and then squirmed from his arms so she could drag the treat to her bed.

  As much as she sought to fight it, Olivia couldn’t deny Ben was endearing. He had all the right moves. And when he pulled her along behind him, settling close on her settee, she followed without resistance.

  “Anything else my friends threatened you with?” Olivia asked near his ear.

  “Nothing I can’t handle. They mentioned something about a doll and some sharp pins if I don’t treat you right.” He lowered his head, covering her lips with his.

  Her calm shattered with Ben so close. The taste of him sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl. It was when he deepened the kiss, so slow and thoughtful, that it occurred. She heard a distinct jingle.

  He raised his mouth from hers and narrowed his eyes. “What is it with this place and bells?”

  “I was told Mr. Thornton was in the building,” Gretchen said from the doorway. “I thought I should make sure we weren’t in the middle of some legal crisis. But now, unless this is part of the bonding process, I feel I’m interfering.”

  Olivia’s cheeks burned. “Come in, Gretchen. Ben was kind enough to bring us lunch. I’ve been telling him about the fundraiser,” Olivia said, as she shifted from Ben’s arms and ambled behind her desk.

  “It seems I’ve made you both uncomfortable even with my little bell,” Gretchen said. “And I don’t remember you telling me anything about a kissing booth. It’s your best idea yet!” With a laugh, she was gone.

  “What’s Gretchen talking about?” Ben asked. He rose from the settee and moved closer, gathering her in his arms.

  Olivia leaned into his embrace. “Gretchen’s just teasing me.” She wondered if he planned to kiss her again like he had before they were interrupted.

  “I have to go. Court requires my presence.” He kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat and worked up her neck, burying his face in her hair. “If I stay any longer, I’ll be late. But tell me, when did you get that?”

  With her head pressed deep in his shoulder, she cleared her throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ben.”

  “You know—the little pink heart tattoo behind your right ear. That’s hot!”

  Her breath shortened as if he’d sucker-punched her. If he hadn’t been holding her, she’d have dropped where she stood. When did I get it? Why did I get it?

  “A while back,” she lied, leaning into him to keep from falling.

  “What else are you keeping from me?” He grinned, his gaze traveling her face. “I’ll call you tonight.”

  Olivia watched him go before she fell back in her chair dragging the trash can between her knees and her compact from her purse. She struggled to position the mirror as beads of sweat rolled down her back. Dear God! “More than you’d ever imagine,” she said aloud, as she held back her hair and threw up her lunch.

  Chapter Twenty

  Delila

  Delila admired the silhouette of her building against the dark skyline on her stroll home. She preferred to walk, enjoying the cool breeze and a sky so clear she could count the stars. As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she reached inside her shopping bag, ignored the new burner phone and gum, and grabbed a candy bar. It seemed the double-cheeseburger she’d had for dinner hadn’t curbed her insatiable appetite.

  Delila tore open the wrapper, dropping a piece of chocolate on her tongue as she entered the foyer. Her eyes narrowed and scanned, assuring her world was as she’d left it. The surfaces of her modern furniture, made with simple lines, were free of trinkets. Delila kept the place uncluttered, in case she needed to pack and disappear in a minute. She never cared for the way photos portrayed her. She avoided them, as did the men she escorted. They had their reasons.

  She unlocked the desk and, after transferring Vivian’s information from her ledger to the new burner, secured the drawer. Devouring the last of the chocolate, she placed her call.

  “Hi Vivian, I’m working tonight.”

  “Delila, thank God,” Vivian said. “Tonight’s the Young Professionals Award Dinner I told you about. James Chester requested you. You’ve been out with him before. Tell me you remember.”

  “You mean the lawyer who’s afraid he’ll never make partner at his firm because they’re ultra-conservative, so he hires me to make them think he’s straight? Chill, Vivian, I got it.”

  “It’s not our place to judge why you’re hired. He wants you. I’ll send a car.”

  Delila showered and slipped into the dress, little and black, she’d selected. After recording her date’s number in her phone, she dropped it into her clutch. A small amount of gel contoured her straight blonde hair and spiky bangs. She added another spritz of Joy. Its vintage rose and jasmine fragrance never failed to lighten her spirits. She found ways to cover the cost.

  When the car arrived, she had the driver drop her at the hotel she and her date had agreed on. James Chester paced the lobby like a squirrel trapped in a dog pound. He rolled his shoulders before nodding his approval of her appearance.

  “What the hell took you so long? I’m sweating through my tux.”

  “Chill, James. Let’s get a drink.” Delila reached up to smooth a lock of his dark hair behind his ear and straighten his designer glasses, which showcased his green eyes. Taking his hand, she led the way to the hotel bar.

  “I’ll have a gin martini and a Texas Two-step for the lady,” James told the bartender.

  “You remembered. I’m impressed.”

  “You’re the only woman I know who can out-drink me—and tequila, for Christ’s sake.”

  Delila watched James throw back his first drink, then a second. She interrupted his attempt to order a third by taki
ng his arm when he tried to signal the bartender. “If you show up wasted, it won’t matter if I’m the perfect mix of Angelina Jolie and Mother Theresa.”

  “Good point. We should go. Besides, there’s a mini-bar in the limo.”

  Settled on the leather seat of the black sedan, Delia observed her date. He fidgeted like a five-year-old: bouncing his knees, straightening his tie, checking his fly, even before the car had pulled away from the curb.

  “Is it hot in here?” he asked, rubbing his hands down his pant leg.

  Delila shook her head. “You’re giving me motion sickness. And you’re eyeing that mini-bar like a long-lost boyfriend.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. You say you’re a good attorney. Law firms should fight over you. So, you’re gay. You’re not exactly an endangered species. You have options. Why not consider branching out on your own? Why let those assholes pull your strings?”

  James flopped back against the seat. He smiled. “For Christ’s sake, if you’d give me a pep talk like that every day, I could go back to AA and marry you for real. Of course, you’d have to meet Mother. Seriously though, we’re all someone’s puppet, whether we like it or not.”

  Pulling up to the venue, Delila found herself lost in thought, considering James’s words. When he took her arm, offering assistance from the car, his eyes questioned.

  “I don’t do well with mothers,” she said.

  James and Delila entered the plush ballroom holding hands. They dined on rubber chicken while the senior partners grilled Delila. They began with how she’d met James and how long they’d dated. The men worked as a tag team, trying to find a discrepancy in her story.

  She rested her chin on her raised hands. “I noticed a member of law enforcement at the door. Perhaps you should have him Mirandize me before the next course.” Her comment drew a laugh.

  With the heat off, Delila looked around the room. She concentrated on the powerful men involved in their conversations. Some were familiar. They didn’t dare catch her eye, not with their wives on their arms—the very same wives they hadn’t given a thought to as they groaned her name.

  Delila noticed a table adjacent to their own, where an older man snuggled close to a much younger woman with a hideous laugh, much like the squeal of a cat caught in a wheel-well. Although attractive, Delila felt certain the woman had seen more than her share of a plastic surgeon’s laser. And were those breasts or basketballs?

  “Who’s she?” Delila whispered.

  “That’s Candy, the new wife of one of my employers. I call her ‘short-bus’ but the rest of these guys treat her like a goddess. They listen to every ignorant word she spews, so that they can stare at her tits.”

  Just then, Candy approached their table. Delila looked on while, as James had predicted, Candy’s audience seemed enthralled, like baby birds with their faces at full attention. Delila bit her bottom lip, curbing the impulse to comment.

  “James, sweetie, I could use some air. Walk with me?” Delila asked in a sultry voice. She smiled before slipping her hand through his offered arm.

  “Slow down,” James said. “They’re staring at your memorable ass—at least the straight ones,” James said.

  Once outside, they settled by an elaborate dancing fountain. James’s long face was a study in agony. “Can you see why I feel the way I do? The partners hang on Candy’s every word but won’t acknowledge me. They treat me like I’m invisible.”

  “They’re drawn in by her room temperature IQ. I’m willing to bet she can count all the way to purple.” Delila rubbed his hand. “James, react or wallow. Only you can end this madness.”

  A slow smile worked its way over his lips. “You’re right. But I have to go back in there and finish this charade. Are you with me?”

  “As you wish, but later, promise me we’ll go back to the hotel bar. I need something to look forward to,” Delila bargained.

  “Deal; I’ll get you as many Texas Two-steps as you can hold.”

  When they returned, the ballroom was abuzz with young professionals scurrying to take their seats for the award presentations. As they waited, Delila made James aware of the number of male-only tables scattered throughout the room.

  “You should talk to one of them before we leave here tonight. They have that ready-to-pick-a-fight look, so they’re most likely trial lawyers. And they’re all way too pretty to be straight. You’d fit right in,” Delila whispered in his ear as the house lights dimmed.

  “If you weren’t so deadly accurate, I’d be insulted,” James grinned.

  They applauded, respectfully, as a member of James’s firm accepted an award. The head of the firm scowled in their direction when Delila and James snickered after the table of good-looking men they’d noticed received an award in the Sports Medicine category. When Candy peered over to see what she’d missed, they laughed aloud. At the conclusion of the event, they slipped away unnoticed.

  *

  “I had a great time with you tonight. I hope I remember that when I’m sober and unemployed,” James said, fumbling with the keys to his apartment. They’d stayed at the hotel bar far too long. “I’m way too drunk to work this lock. I’m just going to take a nap here in the doorway.”

  Delila relieved him of his keys and opened the door. She kept him from sliding down the wall with her knee. After guiding him to his bedroom, she tucked him in bed and let herself out to the waiting car she’d called earlier.

  I’ve cut my time too close to play nursemaid to my inebriated date! Vivian would be pissed if she’d let him wander the streets considering his condition. She did feel somewhat responsible.

  “You drive like the grandmother,” Delila spat at the driver. “Speed it up! I’ll pay for your ticket.”

  There was no time to change, never mind shower. Delila could picture the panicked reaction that would bring. During a brief call to Vivian, she quickly made sure all was in its place. She prayed the traffic was light on the long drive, as she eyed the bed longingly.

  “Taco Bell’s drive-through is out of the question,” she said aloud.

  The buzz from the tequila had her stumble from the door. She double-checked the lock behind her. Her thoughts returned, again, to James’s words regarding puppets. Tossing the phone in the garbage chute, she listened as the compacter engaged before hurrying down the stairwell. She longed for the day when her strings could be cut for good.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Olivia

  Olivia might’ve enjoyed her dreamless sleep if not for the smooth, wet tongue sweeping over her face. She squinted at the sunbeams lighting her bedroom. Lifting her head, she checked the time and wished she hadn’t. A sharp pain pushed across her forehead, followed by waves of nausea.

  “Stop licking me. Why are you awake?” She gently pushed Lily from the pillow. “And why didn’t the alarm go off?” A quick knock jarred her.

  “It’s Maria, Olivia.”

  “Come in,” she sighed, raising her hand to rub her temple.

  “Sorry to wake you. There you are, Lily,” Maria said. “I heard her crying earlier. Thought you’d decided to sleep in, so I came and got her. She’s already been fed and had her walk. I told her to let you sleep, but even with that cast, she’s pretty fast.” Maria reached for Lily before the dog could duck under the covers.

  “I appreciate your help. I feel like crap. It’s probably the same flu bug that’s been going around the office. I’ll call them, let them know I’ll be working from home today.”

  Maria took a hesitant step back. “If you’d set aside your aversion to doctors, I could have one here with a phone call of my own.”

  Olivia shook her head, aggravating her unstable condition. “That’s not necessary. I have a doctor’s appointment later this week. It’s only routine and with my gynecologist, but it’s a doctor.”

  “I know better than to jump on the doctor-go-round with you,” Maria said. “Let me know if you need anything. Try to get some rest.”


  “There is one thing you can do. If my grandmother calls, keep this to yourself. There’s no sense worrying her.”

  Maria nodded and then shut the door behind her.

  Olivia didn’t waste a second. She was on her feet, holding on to the edge of the bed until the room stopped spinning, and then locked the door before racing to the bathroom.

  Within a few short hours, her health improved considerably, allowing her to concentrate on work in her home office. For those who asked, she accredited the short length of her flu symptoms to the blessing of a good immune system. If she hadn’t spent the morning vomiting what reeked of tequila or shampooed the lingering offensive odor of cigarette smoke from her hair, she might have believed it herself.

  “I had a cup of tea and turned in early with one of my migraines last night. I’m sure of it!” she muttered aloud.

  She knew blessings had nothing to do with it. With the Walk-for-Love-a-Thon just a week away, there was no time to dwell. A good night’s sleep would put it behind her. She counted on it.

  *

  The next morning, Olivia rolled out of bed before her alarm. The day promised to be hectic. With construction crews scheduled to begin mapping out not only the walk-a-thon path but also vendor areas and shaded sitting sections, her mood lifted. Thankfully, April enjoyed the seasonally cool weather. With a good portion of their patrons consisting of senior citizens, some with special needs, she wanted every detail addressed.

  In well-worn apple bottom jeans and sneakers, she held tight to a clipboard, working alongside the men where they permitted. Neither time restraints nor her budget allowed for work done twice. In workstations several yards away, local artists, as well as high school and college students, busily added finishing touches to props and booths. A large warehouse held the more sizeable structures. She promised herself a trip out there before the end of the day.

  From the length of the property, Olivia recognized Ben’s confident gate striding toward her. She returned a genuine smile.