Not For Sale

by Rebecca Williams

  "Say my name in French,” Felicity implored. “I have to hear it, just once. God knows I'm never gonna meet a handsome French man in Stawell."

  "You'll never meet a handsome Frenchman. Generally it is we women who are the good looking ones.” Every sister cackled wickedly at the comment and Olivia knew she'd said exactly the right thing. Her arrogant comment had gained her entry into the tightly knit group of female hedonists far more effectively than hours of politeness. "Felicite." Obligingly, she spoke the youngest sister's name in the accent she'd learned from her parents and kept with Charlotte's help.

  Under Yolande's direction and critical gaze, the laughing, joking, wine drinking gaggle of women produced a three course meal. The smell lured the men and children back to the kitchen. Whatever had happened in this family, they'd all inherited an impeccable sense of timing. No matter from whence they came—the creek, the garden, the shed or the lounge—every individual arrived in time to be seated promptly in their place, before the roast was carved. Seating arrangements were also a case of family history. Each small child knew his or her spot and every adult automatically took a chair with the familiarity of practise.

  Observing the family at the table, Olivia could understand the depth of Cain's personality. These people, this place, could draw him back from anywhere in the world. Always he would know where he belonged. No one would crush him with a single word or a nasty jab because these people had taught him his worth. He could afford to be gallant and gentle because all the people who mattered to him knew and valued the strength beneath the gestures. Jealousy burned at the back of her throat, along with anger at her own deprivation and a deep yearning to belong somewhere the way Cain belonged here.

  During the meal, Olivia found herself separated from Cain by a small boy whose name was Jack. Jack had desperate problems with his food. His lack of height didn't enable him to put enough weight into his knife for cutting. Remembering this frustration from her own childhood, she didn't lean over to cut the roast pork for the child. Instead, she hefted two telephone books from the stand near the phone and placed them neatly beneath Jack's little bottom. With extra height, the small boy manoeuvred utensils like a professional.

  Normally, she would never have been so bold as to touch anything in another person's house unless invited. But this family made her feel welcome, and knowing she would probably never see them again made manners seem less important. Meeting Cain's observant gaze, she smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. She was giddy with wine and the feeling of happiness that had enveloped her since setting foot in his family home. “If it's about his health, ask a nurse. If it's about his leverage, ask an engineer."

  "Remind me to offer you a job when you graduate."

  "You can't afford me,” she retorted. “Besides, I'm not for sale."

  Cain's expression darkened instantly, his frown a ferocious replacement for his previously indulgent smile. “That's right, I forgot you're better than the rest of us. You don't require legitimate employment."

  The rumble of a fatherly rebuke roiled across the table. “Mind your manners, boy. Olivia's a guest in my house.” The deep voice rolled like thunder past the blood thundering in her ears.

  Mortified silence struck the table.

  Olivia blinked first. She had to or startled tears at the cruel public reprisal would have splattered on her plate. They would have been heard in the dumbfounded silence, as well as being seen. Bastard! Was it really necessary for him to ruin such a small piece of happiness with his spiteful temper?

  "So, who thinks Jay Trebiani is an idiot?” Felicity burst into the silence with diversionary tactics. She questioned the others about a local footballer recently caught cheating on his wife with his best friend's girlfriend. The media had slain him for his callow faithlessness.

  At least she would never have such things to worry about, Olivia reflected, as she finished the rest of her meal with barely more than an utterance. Words and food got stuck on the invisible lump in her throat. Luckily, the rest of the family leapt in where Felicity led, successfully salvaging the façade of a happy family meal if not the real thing.

  With the ease of long history, the men and children were left to clear and clean while the women retired to the back veranda, each carried their own glass and an extra bottle ... just in case. At her mother's narrowed gaze, Moira turned her bottle to display the label of a popular black currant juice. The older woman nodded in approval. There was no doubting where these women had gotten their strength from.

  In the satisfied safety that comes with darkness, the women fell into their own feminine world of secrets and confidences. While men may have the “what goes on tour stays on tour” saying, these women had something deeper, more at the core of them. Olivia felt the web of it enclose her, wrapping her in the belief that now that she had been admitted to their clan, they would neither divulge what she said to them nor allow others to speak against her.

  "So, who votes Cain Warner's a dumb shit?” Moira, the oldest, wisest and, until now, the quietest, piped her question into the damp night air. “All in favour say ‘aye'.” A collective response filled the cool atmosphere. Even Yolande's voice could be heard.

  "You should dump him like the sack of shit he is, Livvy,” Greta chimed in. The swear word didn't mesh with either her gentle voice or the angelic face she presented to the world.

  "He's not mine to dump,” Olivia amended their misconception.

  "That's the spirit!” One hand rubbing her back, the other refilling her glass, Jacinta's voice glowed with feminine approbation.

  Between the wine, the laughing recounts of husbandly mishaps and dates gone awry, Olivia began to relax again. Slowly, she returned to the consortium. The women must have noticed her loosening up because they began including her again in the conversation rather than merely securing her with filaments of chatter.

  "Tell us what it's like to be an escort, Livvy.” Without seeing Felicity's face in the blackness, Olivia could hear the excitement in the younger woman's voice. “Do you treat ‘em mean and keep ‘em keen?"

  "I try not to be mean,” she corrected, “but they're often keen, and the food is generally wonderful."

  "What about the money, Livvy, is it worth it?” It seemed every woman in the gang had resorted to her nickname.

  "Typical accountant.” Felicity snorted at Greta's question.

  Felicity seemed the type who would do anything just for the adventure. Greta was far more conservative. The dark-eyed angel obviously needed a worthy incentive before treading into any kind of venture. Already Olivia knew more about these women than she did about anyone else in the world. And again bitterness rose like a flood tide in her chest.

  "The money is good. I have nearly no HEC's debt.” Anyone who'd been to university knew that the taxation scheme levied on students was the bane of their lives. Most graduates finished university with a deferred debt in the tens of thousands of dollars to be garnished from pay as soon as they attained what Cain so arrogantly referred to as “legitimate” employment. Many undergrads were currently working as strippers, escorts, and occasionally prostitutes in order to avoid a debt-laden future. As such, she considered herself lucky.

  Cain stepped onto the deck and she felt the women seated around her bristling with contempt. A pack of she-wolves with their hackles raised would have been less intimidating. For an open-air veranda, the atmosphere was stifling.

  "Are you ready to go, Olivia?” His voice was terse, but beneath it his dismay was plain.

  "Oh, yes. I suppose.” Time on the porch had slipped past beyond her notice. Given the opportunity, she'd have stayed all night.

  "Just wait, let me get your address.” Dragging her into the house, Felicity scrambled through papers looking for her address book and a pen. Olivia found Cain's father happily ensconced in a recliner chair, flanked by his two sons-in-law.

  "Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Warner. I had a wonderful time with your daughters."

  "I do recall asking
you to call me Paul.” Cain's father stood from his chair, embracing her in a hug that exuded comfort and warmth in equal measure. It was no wonder his daughters were so confident and well-adjusted. They'd been adored by men all their lives, not for their looks or their cleverness, just for themselves. “Come again, Olivia. I'll give you a tour of the shed.” She giggled against his jumper. “I mean it. You come back or I'll send my girls to get you."

  Paul Warner hugged her in a reassuring fatherly manner. Olivia felt her heart swell in her chest and her throat clog. If she didn't get away from him, she was going to cry. Why couldn't his son be this accepting of her?

  Cain was waiting at the car. Olivia opened her door. Settling herself, she waved to the women standing at the front gate, only letting the chill settle back over her heart when the car pulled onto the darkened road.

  The songs said silence is golden. It wasn't. Silence was a cold grey mist that shrouded the body, dulling the senses, and sneaking down the trachea with every inhalation. Silence was self-replicating.

  Cain tried for words, she heard him clear his throat before speaking. “Did you enjoy my family?"

  Thank heavens he wasn't stupid enough to ask if she'd enjoyed the night.

  "Yes. Your family is wonderful. I wish...” I wish they were mine! No, that wasn't true. Such a wish would be traitorous. What she really wished was to know what her family could have been like. Would she have called her brother a “dumb shit?” Probably. Would she still have loved him even when he made her angry? Definitely. Maybe if they'd been around, she'd have learned unconditional love. Maybe she'd have experienced it. Tonight Cain had proved he came with strings. Her father was not a woodcarver and she was nobody's puppet.

  "What do you wish, Olivia?” While he kept his eyes on the road, his voice was softly curious. Almost as though what she said might make a difference to him. She really had to stop deluding herself. He was leaving tomorrow. Nothing she said would make a difference.

  "Nothing. I don't wish."

  For an hour and a half, they journeyed in silence. Even as he negotiated Melbourne's streets, bringing her closer to home, Olivia felt herself fly farther away, inside her head but outside reality. Creating scenarios built on “what ifs” and wishes, she compiled things she'd like to say or do, all the while trying to decide how to act. Nothing seemed appropriate. There were no words.

  "Olivia, I...” Sighing, he took her hand.

  "Don't, Cain.” Grabbing her hand back and her bag from the rear seat, she let herself out of the car and hurried through the gate and courtyard. She took the lift to her room and stripped her clothes off. Curled up under her blankets like a kitten in a basket, she kept her head and heart in safety ... a long way away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In the four weeks after Cain left Olivia barely stopped moving and hardly slept. Anyone who took the time to notice would have expressed concern at her state. Fortunately, there weren't that many people who paid close attention to her. For herself, she knew the only way to avoid insanity was to keep busy. Really busy. While the university term was still running, busy work was easy to find.

  She did exams. Thank heavens she'd gotten that help from ... well it was a good thing she'd sorted out her problems with the materials subject because the exam was on precisely the work with which she'd had problems. The other three subjects passed by in a breeze. Only one semester to go and she would be footloose and fully qualified. Just to ensure she didn't have too much time on her hands she also took on some of the marking for the first year math exams. It was an easy job and paid well. Money was a vital consideration for a woman thinking about quitting her other part-time job.

  Training was also a great release. She'd overlooked her grading and let her training become less regular when she and Cain had begun sleeping together. Now she needed the intensity, routine, and sheer physical exhaustion the workouts provided. Her gi became a life preserver. Focusing on her breathing, practising slow but powerful moves, she drew her mind inward to find her core. The process of rediscovering her balance kept her mind far from Cain. She didn't feel him in her head when she was training the way she did everywhere else. He'd never been to her dojo, never watched her train, never touched her here, and she counted this blessing, too.

  On the Saturday of his fifth week away, while Olivia packed for her grading, the ring of the doorbell interrupted her grumbling preparations. She stiffened at the noise. Suffering from the symptoms of a nasty flu, she'd dragged herself out of bed and forced herself to pack for the grading around quick dashes to the toilet when nausea got the better of her. This morning, as with every morning for the past week, the illness had abated eventually to leave just remnants of squeamishness to gurgle in her stomach. She was not in the mood for visitors.

  In truth, she'd not been in the mood for visitors since Cain left. Every time the stupid bell rang, she expected to find him on the other side of the door. She knew it wasn't going to be him, didn't know how she would behave should he ever come back. Still, she held her breath every time she walked to answer the chimes. Always disappointed with whoever she found waiting. Maybe it wasn't disappointment exactly. If she didn't anticipate any kind of a joyous reunion, she couldn't be disappointed in missing it, could she?

  Her heart leapt at the sight of her visitor. Not Cain ... his sister, Felicity!

  "I'm so sorry I didn't call first. I was visiting some friends and could remember your address but not your number. I decided to take the chance. Lucky me, you're here! Do you mind?” In her enthusiasm the woman's words tumbled over top of one another.

  Olivia welcomed her with a kiss on each cheek, dragging her two-handed into the apartment. “Come in, Felicity. I'm very glad you're here. I've been hoping one of you would call."

  "Really? Hey, I love your place. Can I have a look?” Without waiting more than a second for her nod, Felicity began her tour of the apartment. A low appreciative whistle left her lips upon sighting the clawfoot bath. “Wow, what a bath. You're my heroine. You know that, don't you? You live in an apartment with a gorgeous bath, are doing engineering at uni and eating men for dinner ... Totally impressive."

  "I'm not a man-eater, Felicity. I'm thinking of quitting, actually.” That was odd. The words had preceded the decision, but now that she'd said them, she felt them. She'd have to ring Charlotte tomorrow.

  "Rubbish. You sliced Cain up so fine he didn't want to travel. That's a first. He's always had itchy feet."

  Olivia balked at the mention of Cain. She hadn't sliced him up; it had been the other way around. The way they'd finished had not been part of her plan. She'd wanted to bring him back to her room, wanted to touch him gently, slowly and sweetly. Kiss the hard planes of his stomach; then work her way down. Feel the little shivers exploding under his skin where she touched him. She'd wanted the same from him. The quiet, cherishing sex he'd seduced her with, their first night together. She'd dreamed of him holding her hands while he entered her, watching her face, meeting her eyes while she felt herself widen with the delicious stretching he brought. She'd wanted to hear him promise over and over that he'd be back. Even now she could imagine the way the words might have meshed with the shudders.

  "Oh, hey, were you headed out somewhere?” Felicity dragged her back to reality.

  "Only to a grading. I do aikido."

  "Jesus, what are you, Wonder Woman?"

  "Hardly. Would you like to come with me? It's a long process, but we can have dinner afterward. If you like, you can stay at my place tonight."

  "Cool. I'll just ring Mum to let her know. I'm the last chicken to leave her nest, so she tends to worry."

  While Felicity made her call, Olivia zipped up her backpack and performed a quick check to ensure she'd left no electrical appliances turned on. More vague than usual lately, she'd rather check twice than come home to cinders.

  * * * *

  Arriving at the dojo, Olivia seated Felicity; then disappeared into the change rooms and climbed into her gi. Nausea churned in
her stomach while she knotted her belt. Nerves always played a part in gradings. The ability to focus in the face of fear was of integral importance. Hadn't she learned that lesson first-hand with Phil? After snapping her top tight under her blue belt for what might be the last time, she bowed and stepped onto the mats.

  Beginning her stretching routine, she eased the tension from her muscles while easing Cain from her mind. He was always there lately, constantly getting in the way. With Felicity in the audience, he was even in her dojo now. Inhaling, she began practising her kata. She needed a clear head for a grading. It would help if she could stop her stomach from gurgling.

  Gradings were generally comprised of three stages: warm up, kata and sparring. In the second phase both she and the other blue belt were left in sumo stance while all Senseis gathered at the front of the room to discuss each student. Before they returned, sweat dripped down her body beneath her canvas gi. She was grateful when the Senseis turned to dismiss her for a drink break. Her legs had just begun to shake with the strain of holding the low, squat stance for so long.

  "You're doing great! You looked awesome!” Felicity enthused while she padded up. To complete the costume and burst Felicity's illusion that she was Wonder Woman, Olivia slid the breast plate inside the tight T-shirt she wore beneath her gi. Biting down on her mouth guard, she grinned at her avid supporter before returning to the mats. The next phase was about to begin.

  Eventually, lower belts were dismissed from the sparring. That left her to spar first with the other blue belt and then with a series of black-belted Senseis in front of an audience full of Aikido practitioners. Facing up to her final opponent—technically they were called partners, but with her naturally competitive nature she couldn't help but view them as rivals—she heard the instructor shout, “Ninety percent strength, one hundred percent control."

  And so it began.

  Left over from the kata and previous sparring rounds, tiredness hung like lead weights from Olivia's muscles. She forced them into action against her last foe. If this was her last fight, it was going to be her best. The black belt was a flurry of movement. In her head, she catalogued her own progress. She blocked consistently well, exhaling with each contact to ensure her muscles were tense. Her sensei called encouragement from the side of the room. Knowing she had to score points herself, she began her attack. Perhaps a little too arrogantly.