by Tineka Brown
His chef. Olympia wondered for a moment if she’d heard correctly but shrugged it off. He owned a casino, after all.
She glanced over at Valentine. “Sure, we’ll come. That sounds delightful.”
“Wonderful! I’ll meet you guys downstairs in a few minutes. Let me call my driver and have him swing by with my car.”
*****
Everett’s car was a sight to behold. Valentine looked positively green with envy, and Olympia reveled in seeing the look on his face.
Though Olympia herself had never been much into cars, she couldn’t deny that a thrill of excitement ran through her with the understanding of exactly how much such a vehicle would have cost.
Was Everett trying to show off? If he was, he seemed to have earned that right.
The drive in the car was almost too short — Everett lived in a well-to-do urban area about 20 minutes away from the main strip. Olympia watched the passing buildings get steadily more impressive, from the selection of one and two-floor motels that Alex had joked about, to residential apartments and office buildings, and finally, detached homes in various sizes and states of repair.
They turned into a busy commercial street and pulled into the driveway of a particularly shiny high-rise.
“This is the place,” said Everett. He turned to his driver. “Take the car in, we’ll be upstairs.”
The driver nodded, and they stepped out of the car before it rolled away with barely a sound save for the low, rolling purr of its engine.
Olympia stifled a gasp as they walked into the building’s lobby. A long hallway dressed in floor-to-ceiling white marble led the way to a trio of elevators, across from which sat a large plush sofa and two massive planters each holding a shock of exotic plants.
They rode the elevator to the top floor, not speaking.
“Alright, this is me,” said Everett casually as he scanned a key fob over a small panel next to the door — the only door on the floor, by the looks of things. “I mean… I actually own this whole building, but I have a few tenants on the other floors. The top three floors are my own offices and private suites.”
He smiled back at Olympia, who quickly shut her mouth.
They stepped into the penthouse and this time Olympia couldn’t hold back the sigh of amazement as it escaped from her lips. “Wow, Everett.” For a moment, she forgot that Valentine was next to her, didn’t feel his eyes burning into her.
Everett laughed in a way that was almost nervous. Olympia watched him and felt a sudden pang of something — perhaps attraction — as she watched him regain his composure and speak. “Actually, this is pretty small compared to my other homes.”
“Other homes?” Valentine said.
Olympia drifted away from the conversation. She pulled off her flat sneakers and wandered into the expansive space — kitchen, living room and dining room were separated by cleverly placed furniture and tables. The whole space had a very masculine feel to it, with a lot of grey, black lacquer, and white marble, but the occasional accent of warm, untreated wood seemed to ground it. Everett had a good eye for aesthetics — or at least, enough money to hire someone who did.
“That’s reclaimed wood from the Amazon,” he said casually, sidling up next to Olympia.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“The chef’s decided to make sushi, since he just got some fresh wild salmon shipped in this morning. I’m glad you’ll be able to join me for it — I always think it’s a shame whenever I’m eating alone here. Charles is such an excellent cook.”
Olympia nodded.
“It shouldn’t be long. Why don’t we sit down, and I’ll bring up some of the plans on the screen?”
Olympia was about to ask which screen, as she sat at the large, black marble table, then she watched in awe as Everett whisked away a metallic grey placement that had been sitting at the head of the table and pressed a button to turn on a rectangular screen that was embedded in the surface of the table.
“Wow,” she said again.
“Oh, this, yeah it’s very cool, isn’t it? I just got these installed about two months ago and let me tell you, they’ve been indispensable when it comes to planning out this opening.”
Olympia looked at the table and realized that the grey placement in front of her must also conceal a similar screen.
“Come on.” Everett gestured for them to move closer in order to peer over his shoulders at the image. He pulled up an aerial view of a stage on the screen. “This is a photograph of the stage.” He changed the point of view so that the image looked out from the stage into the audience.
Olympia tried to count the seats in her head. There were a lot — theatre style, more than lounge-style, although the first few rows were taken up by the small, round tables that she was used to.
“These seats are going to be the expensive ones,” said Everett, as if hearing her thoughts. “People will be able to get a real lounge experience, complete with cocktail service and tapas. The waiters will stop serving while you’re singing of course, so that everyone gets the best possible view. We don’t want any distractions.”
Olympia watched Everett’s fingers dance across the screen as he showed them additional photograph angles, and then moved into stage directions, lighting diagrams, and a list of the acts. There was something vaguely enticing about watching him do his job — he clearly had a passion for this type of thing, or at least, he was very excited about this particular show. Olympia wondered if she had simply dealt with too many producers who were tired of their work and had become jaded. Maybe Everett’s relative youth gave him more energy.
Whatever it was, she couldn’t help but notice that here, in his element, lit equally by the soft light emanating from the screen, and the afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the bay windows, Everett was a very handsome man.
“Good afternoon,” said a cheery voice from behind Olympia. Broken out of her reverie, she turned to see a man dressed in a chef’s white coat and hat, holding a large platter of sushi.
“Ah, Charles.” Everett stood to grab the platter from his chef. “Thank you. This looks delicious.”
“I’ll be back in a second with more, and some plates for you.”
Olympia hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the food was sitting right in front of her. Now, she thought she could eat the entire platter all to herself — but she restrained herself, taking a small selection of sushi pieces and tasting them daintily, letting the fresh fish melt on her tongue. It was truly delicious — she felt as though she was tasting food for the first time.
“Oh my god,” Valentine was saying, nodding vigorously while chewing. “This is incredible.”
“You can thank Charles for that,” said Everett. “I hired him a few months ago and my life has improved greatly since then. I’ve probably gained a few pounds, too,” he said, grinning.
Olympia laughed and nodded in agreement. “It’s amazing. I think you’ve ruined me for sushi anywhere else.”
Everett beamed. “Well, don’t get too attached to this. I’ve got a couple of restaurants that I want to show you while you’re here, including the restaurant that’ll be opening in my casino.”
“So, you’re a restauranteur, as well?”
“Well, purely a hobbyist. I love food, but not enough to go professional. Besides, I’m too busy with the business side of things to ever cook for myself or play with different recipes. That’s why I hired a chef — at least this way I don’t have to order in every night.”
Olympia chewed silently and fixed her gaze on Everett as much as she could, trying to avoid Valentine’s eye. She could sense some vague anxiety growing in the latter man, and she knew, though she wasn’t looking at him, that he was desperately trying to get her attention.
Serves you right, Valentine, she thought.
*****
The sun was still baking hot when Valentine and Olympia returned to the hotel a few hours later. Everett had paid for a cab and sent some handmade pastri
es — also from Charles — with them in a box. Olympia stowed the pastries carefully in the refrigerator when they arrived. The room, thankfully, was well-insulated, and the air conditioning had left it the perfect temperature.
“He seems like a nice man,” said Valentine, apparently apropos of nothing. Olympia looked at him like he’d just screeched nonsense.
“What?” Said Valentine. Then that sly, smarmy smile returned to his face. “I’m just saying… I think he’d be good for you.”
“Good. For me?”
“Oh, come on Olympia. Don’t play coy. I saw the way you were looking at him.”
She stared at Valentine, her eyes narrow. “Fine. Yes, I think he’s attractive. And that’s none of your business.”
Valentine smiled and sat down on the sofa next to Olympia. She hadn’t bothered to unfold the bed yet, and she was reminded painfully of so many evenings in her own apartment with Valentine sitting next to her, pressing her, asking her all the questions that she didn’t care to answer.
For a while, he didn’t speak, and Olympia thought that maybe that would be the end of it. Then he straightened and said, “are you hungry?”
Olympia shook her head. She was still full of the delicious lunch that Everett had provided.
“Alright. Well, why don’t you head down to the swimming pool? You look like you’re too warm, anyway. I have to make a phone call, but after you’re done we can get room service. I’ll buy.”
Olympia blinked. What was his angle? She couldn’t believe that Valentine would just be content to give her away to another man. Was he planning on going through her things, sabotaging her song writing notebook while she was away?
“Come on Olympia. You can trust me.” When she still didn’t respond, he sighed deeply and looked her in the eyes. “Alright, let me start over. I… I know I haven’t been a good partner. Well, okay. I haven’t been a good person.”
No kidding, Olympia thought. She bit her lip before saying it. Valentine did seem sincere. Sincerer than she could ever remember. It frightened her.
“But I want to be a good person. I… I mean… I would say that I want you back, but I guess it’s pretty obvious that that ship has sailed. So, for now, can I just be a good friend?” He looked at her with pleading eyes. Olympia was so shocked that she almost felt sympathy for the man, somewhere deep inside of her.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she said. She stood and went to her suitcase to find her swimsuit. “But since you mentioned it, I think a swim would be nice.” She found the garment, and her towel, then snatched her song notebook off the arm of the chair as she noticed it.”
“What, you don’t trust me with your songs?” Valentine asked, his voice dripping with hurt.
“To be frank, no.” With that, Olympia hastily put on her shoes and left the room, half-jogging to the elevator and punching the button for the fitness center, on the third floor.
Her anxiety began to subside as she reached the doorway to the swimming pool. It was encased in glass walls on what might once have been a balcony, the edge of the pool flush with the far edge of the room, giving the impression that the water extended right out into the sky. Olympia was perfectly alone, and she let out a sigh of relief as she let the cool water envelop her.
She shut her eyes and drifted for a while, trying to ignore the fact that Valentine had been right.
Chapter 3
It was dark outside when Olympia returned to the room. She’d spent the last few hours relishing being alone— though she was alone a lot of the time, somehow being in a cramped space with Valentine for more than a few hours made her long for her own quiet, empty apartment.
Riding the elevator back up to the room, she wondered vaguely what Everett was up to. Did he have his own swimming pool, somewhere in that building that housed his penthouse apartment? It seemed likely.
She wrapped the white hotel towel tightly around herself and clutched her jeans and t-shirt to her chest as she entered the room, reluctant to give Valentine any sort of view of what he was missing. To her horror, he rushed to hold the door open as soon as he heard her key card beep.
“How was your swim?” He asked, grinning.
“It was nice, thanks. I’m going to go take a shower, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Alright. Think about what you want from room service and I’ll call down as soon as you’re ready.”
Olympia had no snarky retort for that, so she went directly to the bathroom and turned on the shower, filling the room with steam.
When she emerged, Valentine was sitting on the bed, flipping through the room service menu. “I’m thinking about getting the steak,” he said, not looking up.
Olympia rubbed a knot of hair between the towel, feeling it pull away from her neck as it dried. She couldn’t believe that Valentine was still on this kick. The thought that he might be serious briefly crossed her mind, but she pushed it away. He’d still have to do a lot better to convince her that he had really changed.
She sat down on the corner of the bed and said, “let me see the menu.”
Valentine passed it to her without another word. Olympia scanned it briefly, focusing more on the prices than on the descriptions of the dishes. She wanted to order the most expensive thing she could find on the menu — if Valentine was truly willing to buy her anything she wanted, this would be the acid test.
“Mm, the lobster sounds delicious.”
To her shock, Valentine didn’t bat an eye. He only grinned and made to grab the menu back from Olympia. “And--” said Olympia, tightening her grip on the laminated booklet, “a glass of the Chardonnay.”
Still, Valentine offered no objections.
“Sounds lovely,” he said.
Olympia scooted up onto the bed as he dialed down to the kitchen. Reclining against the pillows, she felt a confusing sense of comfort come over her. Really? Has he really changed?
She couldn’t shake off the suspicion that this all had something to do with Everett, but all the same… maybe she’d been too quick to judge Valentine.
He turned on the TV after he ordered, and they sat in silence, watching a news program, until the food arrived. When it did, Olympia was famished, and cleaned her plate with relish. Sitting back, full of high-end seafood and wine, she looked at Valentine and said, quietly, “you’re right. I do like Everett.”
“I know,” he said, smiling, but not turning to look at her.
Olympia looked away, gathering her thoughts. “I… I don’t want you back, Valentine. I’ve moved on. But… it would be nice if we could be friends…”
“Of course.” There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice. “And I think Everett seems like a really nice guy. I… I just want you to know that you have my blessing, if you want to um, go for it. Just… make sure you get a prenup! He’s so rich, you wouldn’t want to miss out on that opportunity.”
Olympia snorted. “Is this what this is about? You want to make sure that I get a share of Everett’s money so that, what, when I come crawling back to you, you’ll get a cut?” Her remark was bitter, but she let it stand.
“You wound me, Olympia.” Valentine turned to her now and put a hand on her knee. For once, she didn’t mind — though she remained hyper-aware of his touch as he spoke. “I’m telling you, I just want the best for you. I’ve… I’ve been awful, and I want to show you that I can be better. You deserve better.”
She stared at him for a long time, appraising his features, trying to spot any minor twitch or tick, or movement of the eyes that might signal a lie, or some secret scheme. But his face was stoic. Olympia frowned, looking back down at his hand on her knee. She should take this, and run with it, she knew. But she was getting ahead of herself.