Olivia

by Donna Sturgeon

  The bar was closed, the employees long gone, and George was finishing up cleaning when she walked in.

  “I was starting to worry about you.” He slid a tub of glasses onto the shelf under the bar. “Your car’s been outside all night,”

  “I’m sorry, it was a crazy night. I got fired and got a new job and Clete invited me over for dinner and we got to talking and I wasn’t paying attention to the time,” Olivia explained in a rush.

  “You got fired?” George asked. “Why?”

  “Because it wasn’t the right place for me. But Clete hooked me up with this lady, Kelly, at The Breeze and I start tomorrow and she’s going to let me play whatever I want—which reminds me, I need to call Izzie so she can do my hair. They’re going to put me on a billboard, George!” Olivia smiled. “Can you believe that shit?”

  “No.” George laughed.

  “Hush you.”

  “Clete made you dinner?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did you eat all your vegetables,” George asked with a wicked grin.

  “No,” Olivia said drawing out the word and rolling her eyes. “But he let me eat cake anyways.”

  “Well, good for him.” George finished wiping down the bar, and then held out his hand and said, “Let’s go home.”

  She slipped her hand into his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  When they got back to the apartment, George grabbed a quick bite to eat then headed for the shower, and Olivia started to pace in circles. Her day was beginning to sink in and it was almost too much to wrap her brain around. Big changes were happening and it felt like something even bigger was hovering out there on the horizon, itching to explode.

  She paced faster as her anxiety grew, the living room seeming to shrink with each rotation. She started to feel claustrophobic and switched to sitting on the balcony, chain-smoking and knee-bouncing like Eugene, but that didn’t do any good either. If anything, it made it worse. She went back inside, ripped open the closet doors, dug through her clothes to find something to wear for picture day, and started to freak.

  Olivia tended to freak, that’s for sure. She freaked over everything, even the small stuff, but she hardly ever got nervous about anything before it actually happened. Being nervous required forethought, which was a skill Olivia lacked and had intentionally avoided learning. But something about being fired smacked into reality how much she actually loved being a DJ. It was exactly who she was, and she didn’t want to lose out on the opportunity again. Her first day at The Breeze had to be perfect in every way so Kelly wouldn’t have any reason to let her go.

  George slipped his arms around her from behind as she stood in front of the pile of clothes she had thrown out of the closet in frustration. “What’s the matter, Baby Girl?”

  He was fresh from the shower and still damp, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. Usually that alone was enough to make her forget her troubles and arouse another part of her brain, but that night her brain stayed focused on the freak-out, the butterflies dancing a samba around her stomach just like they had at Easter time.

  “What should I wear tomorrow?” she asked. “I have nothing! Everything I own is crap.”

  She didn’t follow fashion trends. Ever. She didn’t see the point in it. Her entire wardrobe consisted of t-shirts, and most of the ones she currently owned she had purchased at the Salvation Army right after the fire. Every single one of them was juvenile and just plain stupid and totally inappropriate for an adult. She couldn’t very well go into work in the morning and expect Kelly to put up a billboard with her wearing a grass-stained and faded My Little Pony t-shirt that she had bought for a quarter at a garage sale simply because it was pale yellow and matched her bright yellow track pants.

  “Just be yourself,” George said. He let go of her and started to dig through the pile of clothes. “Where’s that poop t-shirt I love so much? You could wear that one.”

  “It burned up in the fire.”

  “What about your dress from Easter? You looked damn good in that.”

  “I ruined it in the wash.”

  “You washed it? Liv, that was dry-clean-only.”

  “Well, I know that now!” Olivia flopped face-down on the bed and whined into her hands, “I don’t want my face on a billboard, George. My ugly mug’ll cause another pile-up on the highway and Reggie’ll drop me for sure!”

  “No, it won’t. Give yourself some credit.” He crawled on top of her on the bed, rolling her over so she was face-up beneath him. “You’re beautiful and you know it. Whatever you wear will be perfect. You’re worrying for nothing.”

  “Maybe I should go shopping in the morning,” Olivia said.

  “You can if you want, but I don’t think you need to.”

  “Kelly told me I had to comb my hair.” Olivia stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “She doesn’t want me to be myself.”

  George smiled and asked, “Can you even get a comb through that hair of yours?”

  “Ass.” Olivia smiled and George kissed her until she forgot all about everyone except him and everything except the liquid heat his kisses created.

  In the morning she woke early and showered, and it took an hour but she managed to blow dry, curl and style her hair all on her own—and it actually cooperated. She didn’t even need to use a clip. She debated attempting makeup, but she didn’t want to press her luck so she stopped at just mascara and lip gloss. And then it came time to dress.

  And that’s where her luck ran out. She had hoped for some great, overnight epiphany, but it didn’t come. She was running late and still standing in front of George’s closet wearing only her jeans and bra when the doorbell rang.

  “George!” Olivia hollered out for him to answer the door, but she was met with silence. “Just come on in!”

  “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked!” Clete hollered as he opened the door.

  “Blame George! He’s probably down taking out the trash. Get in here and help me!”

  “What do you need?” Clete asked as he approached, but stopped short when he saw her in her half-dressed state. He quickly reversed out of the room and called from the hall, “Holler when you’re dressed.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “That’s what I need help with. Tell me what to wear today.”

  “Uh…”

  “Oh, get over yourself, Clete. It’s not like I’m naked. Quit being such a prude and get your ass in here and help me. I’m going to be on a freakin’ billboard representing the Breeze and I can’t go in there looking like a humpalump.” Olivia pulled a t-shirt out of the closet and held it in front of herself. “What about this one? Is it ok?”

  Clete peeked around the doorway and shook his head.

  “This one?” Olivia asked, trying again.

  “I don’t know, just wear whatever you want.”

  “Clete!” Olivia cried in frustration. “Help me! Please!”

  “Fine.” Clete sighed. He came into the room and pushed Olivia out of the way so he could look through her clothes. He tossed aside t-shirt after t-shirt as he sifted through the pile. “Don’t you own anything that didn’t come from the little girls’ department?”

  “No,” Olivia cried. “What am I going to do?”

  “Just wear one of them and hope it’s a head shot,” Clete suggested and dug further into the closet. “What the…? Strawberry Shortcake? Seriously?”

  “I can’t do this, Clete!” she cried again, this time in despair, and sunk onto the bed. “I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. Call Kelly and tell her thanks but no thanks, I can’t do the job. I’ll just go back to Garretson. It’s where I belong anyways. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking!”

  Clete stopped looking through her clothes and stepped out of the closet. He crossed the room to Olivia and knelt in front of her, shifting his cop gear and looking uncomfortable, and said, “Kelly hired you for your personality, Olivia, not your clothes. But you know what? As ridiculous as they are, your clothes are part of your per
sonality. So, you dress like a kid. So what? It’s who you are. Don’t change that for anyone. This job is you,” he said with a poke to her chest. “And you’re amazing at it. It’s just a stupid picture, and whatever you end up wearing in it will be perfect.”

  She groaned. “No, it won’t.”

  Before she could as much as blink, she was pulled to her feet and pushed toward the closet.

  “Close your eyes, reach into the closet, and pull out a shirt. Whatever you pick is what you’re going to wear,” Clete instructed.

  Olivia sighed in frustration, but she did as she was told and pulled out a bright green t-shirt with a picture of the Kool-Aid man dancing on it.

  “I can’t wear this!”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Clete took the shirt from her hands, and in one slick movement he slipped it over her head without messing up her hair. She pushed her arms through the sleeve holes, and he smoothed the shirt down her sides and spun her towards the mirror. He dressed her so easily it was as though he had done it a million times before. But then he had, only on a much shorter person.

  “See? It doesn’t matter what you wear. You’re beautiful, Olivia.”

  She looked at her reflection and, ridiculous as it sounded, she did feel beautiful. She didn’t look any different than she had the last time she wore the shirt—well, except this time her hair wasn’t all over the place, but still—she felt different. Better. Stronger. More confident than she’d ever felt before.

  “So, are you ready to go?” Clete asked. He stepped up behind her and their eyes met through the mirror.

  “Yeah,” she said, slightly breathless. She didn’t know if it was still the nerves or something else causing the butterflies in her stomach, but she kind of liked the feeling. She felt… Invincible.

  “You need a ride?”

  “No.” She could do this on her own. She needed to do this on her own.

  And she did.

  She about went blind from the photographer’s flash bulb, but she did fine. Kelly loved the photos and picked out seven of them for various ads. In the end it didn’t matter what she wore or even that she had combed her hair. The headphones and microphone covered most of it anyway, and the station’s logo would probably cover the rest.

  As soon as the photo shoot was over, Olivia dove right into her DJ’ing gig. She had a lot of fun, got some interesting callers, and messed up the corn futures. But she loved it—every second of it—and she couldn’t wait to go back and do it again the next day.

  Clete was waiting for her outside the station when she bounced out the door at seven. She practically exploded happiness all over him as she gushed about her day and hugged him tight and then followed behind his cruiser back to town. He took her out for a celebratory dinner at Tomas Juan’s and toasted her success with margaritas.

  She asked him to come to Kitty’s with her for a nightcap, but Allie was with a sitter and he didn’t want to stay out any later than he already had. Olivia followed him home and they capped off the night with a slice of his leftover cake and Allie and Olivia dancing in the living room to Beyoncé. Clete watched and laughed but refused to participate in the “Single Ladies” dance because he wasn’t a single lady. Allie and Olivia talked Clete into ten extra minutes to play before Allie had to go to bed, and then he was firm and sent her off to her room exactly ten minutes later.

  “I should probably head out,” Olivia said after Allie shut her bedroom door. She had stayed late the night before and felt bad for making George worry about her. She didn’t want to do it again. But, at the same time, she really wanted to stay. Not too long ago she had been desperate to leave Clete’s house, and now she was having a hard time leaving. It was an understatement to say it confused her.

  “Oh,” Clete said, clearly disappointed that she was going.

  “Thank you for dinner tonight.” As she stood up from the sofa, he immediately jumped to his feet. Ever the gentleman.

  “It was my pleasure,” he said.

  Olivia smiled. “You’re so formal all the time.”

  “It’s a bad habit of mine.” Clete returned her smile, but he didn’t look happy.

  They had been having such a good time she didn’t understand his change of mood. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He smiled again, trying to look happier, but Olivia could tell he was faking it.

  “You almost look disappointed that I’m leaving,” she teased. When Clete didn’t answer, she realized he was. And it shocked the hell out of her. “Oh…”

  “I wish you would stay,” he said.

  “But I should go to George…”

  “Yeah, you should go,” he said, his face falling a fraction more. He gently guided her to the door. “Thank you for the evening, Olivia.”

  “Clete, wait.” Olivia put her hand over his on the door knob, stopping him from opening it. “George is gay.”

  Clete froze, his voice forced. “What?”

  “Yeah… I know. He didn’t lie… He is gay.”

  She had no idea why she’d told him that. It wasn’t her business to tell Clete, it was George’s, and the guilt was already kicking in, but she had wanted Clete to know. She wanted him to… what? What the hell did she want from him? Why did she tell him that?

  “But you two…”

  Olivia shrugged. “I know.”

  Clete’s expression went blank and she changed her mind—he would make a good detective after all. She had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. She reached for the door, hoping to leave her confusing emotions behind and go home to the safety of certainty with George.

  “Are you in love with him?” Clete asked in a rush before she could turn the door knob.

  “Yes. Very much.” Of that she was certain. No question—she loved George. “I always have been in love with George, and I always will be.”

  “Is that ring on your finger an engagement ring?” he asked with a nod at her hand.

  As she looked down at her fingers, George’s eternity ring caught the light and seemed to flash to life. “Yes… Kind of.”

  “What does ‘kind of’ mean?” Clete asked carefully.

  “I don’t know,” Olivia said. And she really didn’t know.

  She knew she would always love George and she was certain he would always love her. His ring on her finger was their promise of exactly that, as was her ring on his. That was never going to change. What she didn’t know was whether or not it was right for either of them to be together the way they were—right for her, right for George, right for their future. Was love alone enough to make them complete in all the ways they needed to be complete? Or were they both hiding from their fears in the safety and comfort of some kind of make-believe?

  “George and I…” she started, but then faltered, and shook her head. As she met Clete’s eyes the shadow of Easter crept up again, and her doubts intensified. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Clete stepped into her so close it took her breath away. He tipped her chin until their eyes locked together. Looking directly into her heart, he said, “I need you to know.”

  “Why?” Her voice came out in a whisper as her heart shuddered in her chest.

  It happened so slowly it was as if time stood still and a year passed between one of her heartbeats and the next, between when she knew he was going to kiss her and when he actually did, but at the same time it happened so fast she didn’t have time to brace herself for the impact.

  If the world stopped spinning, or gravity stopped pulling, or the waves in the ocean suddenly changed direction, it would have been no less disorienting than it was when Clete’s lips met hers and she drew in a breath of his air. In that instant, something changed deep inside her, like a spark of light in a space that had only ever known darkness. She couldn’t stop herself before she whimpered and brought her hands up to pull him closer.

  There was a deep-down heat to his kiss that he kept fierce control over, but Olivia could feel the burn of his passion. It was so dif
ferent from their first kiss and so different from any other kiss she had ever kissed. He did not rush through it. He took his time, as if he had his entire life to kiss her, and intended to spend every leisurely second of it doing so.

  And then one of his hands wove into her hair and the other splayed across her back as he oh-so-slowly increased the intensity. Her lips parted and his tongue dipped inside, touching hers for the briefest moment, just long enough to give her a glimpse of his desires and make her moan for more. His lips left her mouth and moved along her jaw and down her neck as he pulled her closer. He knew all her sensitive parts almost instinctually, and as his lips worked her neck right on her pulse point her knees went weak. She whimpered again in hunger and his mouth flew back to hers.

  Hot and demanding this time, he pushed her against the wall and lifted her up as he forced her mouth open with his. She didn’t miss a beat and met his aggression with her own. When he lifted her leg and hooked it on his hip, she shamelessly rubbed against his erection. He pulled her in closer yet and pressed against her harder and let out a moan of wanting that vibrated throughout her body and elicited one of her own.

  Her hands slipped under his shirt, and when her fingertips ran along the scars on his chest he paused and buried his face in her neck while she got to know him intimately. She felt the thick, silky, tautness of his healed skin, and felt the vibrations of his powerful heart pounding against his ribcage as it tried to break free. Her hands moved on without lingering too long on his past, and his lips worked their way back to hers.

  She had no idea how long they kissed in the doorway—seconds, minutes, days, maybe. Time stood still as his lips and hands explained to her heart how he felt about her, and her heart slammed in reply. And then, after he had said everything he needed to say, he pulled away and opened the door without a word. Disoriented and confused, yet elated, she stepped outside into the night air, trying to make sense of the upside-down world she had suddenly tumbled into.