by Julie Olsen
She popped in a pod and placed a cup on the platform then pressed the button. Turning around, she quirked a brow.
“So, how was it?”
I rolled my eyes. She was going to draw this out as painfully as possible.
“Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? Did I stay the night with him? Yes. Was I careful? Sort of. Is it anything for you to worry about? Absolutely not. Am I seeing him again? Yes. And finally, was it good?” I paused, letting the last question linger for effect.
“Very,” I mouthed.
Lucy was shocked at my candor, her blue eyes wide as saucers. Damien’s shock and awe must have been rubbing off on me. A flush crept across my face. I wondered if Lucy felt as stunned as I was earlier at Damien’s uninhibited words. I doubt that.
A Cheshire cat smile crept across Lucy’s face. “Well then.”
I smiled back, tilting my brows skyward and shrugging nonchalantly.
“So the drought is over.”
“Yep. And my lady parts weren’t shriveled after all.”
She handed me my coffee and we giggled. It felt so good to laugh. I listened to Lucy’s goofy chortle and let myself go into full-blown, belly-clenching, tears-rolling laughter. I couldn’t look at Lucy, so I covered my eyes with my hands, loud howls and shrieks resounding through the kitchen. My mouth was turned up in a jaw-splitting grin, tears streaming down my face, until my chin trembled and I realized I wasn’t laughing anymore. I was crying.
I moved my hands down to cover my mouth but not quickly enough.
“Liv, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
I just stared at her, my hands covering my mouth, shaking my head in confusion.
“Oh, sweetie. Don’t you cry, or I will too.”
My body was wracked with sobs. It was useless to try and stop them.
Lucy came around to my chair and folded me in her arms. “Shh. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.” She stroked my hideous hair, and I let go, releasing all the pent-up feelings of worthlessness, anger, confusion and pain. I let it all go, except the fear. The fear remained. It always did.
After what seemed like an eternity, my sobs reduced to a slow hiccup. Lucy patted my back and released me.
“I don’t know why that happened,” I wheezed, wiping at my tears with my hand.
Lucy stepped over to the counter. “I do. You like him. It’s probably overwhelming.” She handed me a paper towel, and I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.
I sniffled, reflecting on her wise words. “Yeah, I guess so.” My face must have been covered in tear tracks, and I probably had a red nose and eyes, but that was the good thing about sisters; after a certain age they didn’t judge based on hideous sex hair, wrinkled last-night’s-date clothes, or snotty, crybaby face.
“Oh, I should warn you, Justine invited Boone for dinner later,” she said. Lucy rolled her eyes since she and Boone were not exactly best buds.
I pondered this and nodded. I was going to have a full house to cook Easter dinner for. With a pang of longing, I wished Damien could join. Not that I knew what foods he liked. He had lamb last night, and seemed to enjoy it. I made a mental list of the foods he had eaten in my presence for future reference.
“I think I’ll keep it simple. Roasted chicken and potatoes. And asparagus. A green salad. Loaves of garlic bread. Sound good?”
“Sounds perf. Need any help?”
“Cooking on your day off? I think not, Luce. Besides, this is my absolution meal. I cook it and everybody forgives me for my irresponsible behavior.” I grinned at my cleverness.
Lucy nodded. “Good plan. But if you want total absolution, you better make a cake. German chocolate, please.” She grinned back at me over her cup.
She wanted cake. Great. I guess I could do that too. I rushed up the stairs toward the shower, bringing my coffee with me. I would need all the caffeine I could get for the day ahead.
* * *
In the privacy of my room, I called Weldon. I didn’t want Lucy to hear the blatant lies I planned to tell him to cover up my whereabouts last night, even though I knew she wouldn’t expect me to tell him the messy truth. Note to self: explain to Justine about my concocted story. It would just be my luck that she would spill the beans to Weldon and Boone. Justine was not known for her ability to keep her mouth shut unless sworn to secrecy.
Weldon answered on the first ring. “Liv?”
“Hi Bossman, it’s me.”
A silence stretched as I waited for his question. It finally came.
“You okay?”
I swallowed, feeling shittier at his gentle probing and at my incoming lie. “I hear you were worried about me?” I tried for a playful tone, hoping I pulled it off.
“I was. So was Lucy.” He sounded a bit more relaxed. “Was your phone on the fritz or something?”
I paused a beat and took him up on it. “Yeah.” I bit my lip and my foot twitched furiously. “I was out and didn’t realize my phone was out of juice.” There, that was plausible. And much better than I went to a marathon Twilight showing at the theater and didn’t check my phone.
“I figured that’s what it was. You had us worried though,” he admonished gently, and I actually relished the wave of guilt that swept over me like a penance.
“I know,” I said softly. “I’m sorry. I hope Lucy’s call didn’t wake you or the kids.”
“Course not, chica. We had a movie night then they went straight to bed. The Easter Bunny doesn’t come if you’re awake, you know.”
“Hey, would you like to come to Easter dinner? I’m cooking a feast.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I added Easter candy for the kids to the grocery list in my head.
“Ah, thank you for the invite, Liv, but actually Joe surprised us and flew in late last night. We’re having a quiet family day.”
My face broke into a huge smile as my heart swelled with joy for this sweet man. “Weldon, that’s wonderful news! How long is he here for?”
“A few days then he flies to South America. We’re going to enjoy him while he’s here.”
“Well, tell him I said hi. You need me to cover for you tomorrow?”
“Actually…I kind of hoped you might.” I could envisage his big puppy-dog eyes just from the tone of his voice.
“Consider it done. You kids have fun. I’ll see you on Tuesday then?”
“If you’re lucky,” he chuckled, and I couldn’t help but return his infectious laugh.
We said our good-byes and hung up. One task completed, and it wasn’t as bad as I had feared. It was only one little white lie, after all.
* * *
After a long, therapeutic shower that rejuvenated my body and spirit, even as the memory of my last shower barged in and sent tingles skirting down my spine and other, lower parts, I slipped on sweats and a T-shirt and wrapped my hair up in a towel. Sitting on my bed, I called Justine.
“You are so going to tell me everything, and I mean everything,” she said by way of answering.
“Hello to you, too.”
“Don’t even try distracting me. I want the deets and I want them now. When did you get home?”
I sighed and shook my head, a grin creeping across my face. “Okay, first of all, Weldon is under the impression that my phone died. I want to keep it that way.”
“Yeah yeah, of course. It’s in the vault. So…boxers or briefs?”
I laughed. “You know, this story is probably best told over a bottle of Chardonnay.”
“Oh no, you don’t. Spill it, Liv.”
I took pity on my bestie, deciding to give her a snippet of the salacious details she craved. As long as it was in the vault. I fell back on the bed and stretched out. This might take a while; I might as well get comfortable.
“Boxers.”
“Oh my God.” She paused a beat, then pounced. “Did you come?”
“Come where?” I asked, all innocence and purity.
; “Or-ga-sm. Did he make you come?”
I smiled wickedly, knowing she couldn’t see me. “Like a Roman candle.” Oh, this would set her right off.
“Wow.”
“That was my line,” I deadpanned.
She exhaled sharply. “I suppose now you’re going to be all Damien this and Damien that.”
“Oh God, I hope not. If I do, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
“Damn right, I will. That’s my job, to point out when you’re making a fool of yourself.”
“And that’s why I love you, Just.”
“So, he was good, was he?”
“There aren’t words to describe him.”
“Fucking hell!”
“He’s kind of bossy, though. He’s accustomed to telling people what to do and apparently, they fall all over themselves to do it. I think he’s some kind of business whiz kid.”
“Liv,” she said softly. “Don’t be mad, but I looked him up online.”
The seriousness of her tone dried up our playful banter. “What do you mean?”
“Honey, you’ve heard of Weaver? The social blogging site?”
“Yes, of course.”
“He founded it. And it’s not just that. He owns a large group of companies. He’s crazy rich, Liv.”
I sat up on the edge of the bed, blood leaving my head and pooling at my feet. I became dizzy, a prickling awareness sweeping across my chilled skin.
“Liv, are you still there?”
“I’m here,” I whispered.
“I take it he didn’t mention any of this.”
“No. None of it.”
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. On his Wiki it says he’s an intensely private person. In fact, there were really precious few personal details on him.”
“He has a Wiki?”
“Hon, he’s on the Forbes 400 list of the richest Americans.”
I looked up and found myself in my floor-length mirror. A girl stared back with wide, lost eyes and olive skin, her hair tucked in a turban on top of her head, dressed in an old pair of sweats and a Lady Gaga T-shirt, which had seen better days.
“Did you hear me, Liv?”
“How did you find all this?” My voice was hushed but determined.
Justine must have sensed my growing alarm because she notched down her excitement. “Just Google him. I can send you links if you want,” she said hesitantly.
“You just decided to—”
“I was curious. He gave off a vibe, like a celebrity. It was just a hunch but I was right. He is a celebrity.”
Typical Justine. She ran internet searches on all of her future dates. It made perfect sense she would do the same for me.
“You know, if he hasn’t said anything, there’s probably a good reason. Maybe you should wait until he brings it up.”
“Yeah.” I swiftly switched topics. “Listen, dinner at seven thirty. Since you invited Boone and he knows none of this, let’s keep it all on the down-low.”
There was a pause, as if she had something more to say. “It’s in the vault, don’t worry.”
“Yeah. Okay, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later. And Justine?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Thanks. For everything.”
“Shut up. You know I’ve got your back, Liv.”
I sighed. “I know. Me too.”
I hung up and sat staring at the girl in the mirror, both of us deep in thought. The Porsche, the huge and stunning apartment, the extravagant gift. All the clues were there, I had just refused to see them. Damien was more successful than I ever could have dreamed, not that it mattered to me. I’d still feel the same if he were blue collar and drove a Pinto. I just hoped Justine was right and he had a good reason for keeping me in the dark.
* * *
After a trip to the supermarket—and a record three-hour nap—Lucy’s German chocolate cake was in the oven. With work, my shopping spree with Justine, and all the time spent with Damien lately, I had completely forgotten about grocery shopping. So it was lucky many stores elected to remain open Easter morning, or else dinner would have amounted to whatever I could have found in our pantry.
Lucy was spending the first part of the day with James and his family, comprised of several brothers and sisters and a cadre of nieces and nephews who would doubtless be hopped up on chocolate eggs and jelly beans. I figured she’d go straight to the wine when she got home.
As I was washing the mixing bowl, my phone rang from inside my purse. Drying my hands frantically, I lunged to answer it, hoping to hear his deep sexy voice again. I missed the call, but it was not from him. It was Mom. My phone pinged, letting me know I had a voice mail, and I pressed play.
“Livy? Oh, I guess you’re not home. I’ll try you on your cell. Bye, darling!”
Shaking my head, I erased the message. I smiled as I imagined the scene being played out now: my very un-techie mother scanning her contacts list in search of my cell number which she had just called.
My cell rang again, startling me. The screen showed it was Mom, of course.
“Hi Mom.”
“Livy? How are you, darling? I just tried calling you from the house phone and left you a message.”
“I know, Mom. You called my cell. Both times.” I grinned. Elise St. Clair had to be the world’s most technologically un-savvy woman. Dad, Lucy and I loved to tease our mother about her inadequacies with electronic devices.
“No darling, I used my home phone first, and then I used my cell phone,” she explained patiently.
Wait till I told Lucy about Mom’s latest technology antics. “Mom, it doesn’t matter which phone you use.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.” I couldn’t help it and a giggle escaped. “Oh, Mom.”
Plopping down at the kitchen table, I spent the next thirty minutes catching up with my mom. I had wrestled with myself over whether or not I should tell her and Dad about my accident, since they worry so much about Lucy and me. In the end I decided honesty was the best policy and besides, I was none the worse for wear. But when I brought it up, the ensuing dramatic reaction made me regret mentioning it immediately.
“Oh, Livy. You could have been killed! Richard!” she shouted, causing me to jerk the phone away from my ear. Cautiously settling the phone a safe distance away, I listened as she regaled my dad with my bike accident tale.
“You’re feeling all right, pumpkin?” My dad had apparently commandeered the phone and wanted my take on events.
“I’m fine, Dad. Really.”
“You should have called us sooner,” he said gruffly. My dad always wanted to fix the world’s problems, especially when they pertained to his little girls.
“Dad, there was nothing you could do. Believe me, I’m fine. I even went to work the next day.” This should put his mind somewhat at ease. If there was one thing Richard St. Clair recognized, it was the ability to work. In his forty years in the postal service, he had only missed two days of work, and they were so he could be there as his girls were born.
“Well, if you didn’t miss work…So they know who hit you?”
“They’re looking into it.”
“Uh-huh.”
I could feel the cogs turning in his head. He was deciding if he and Mom needed to rush out to visit. Although I would have loved to see them, this was a bad time with a certain sex god occupying my every thought. Luckily, I knew just how to handle my dad.
“So, we got the drainpipe fixed,” I announced brightly. The sooner we got off this worrisome topic, the sooner Dad would stop planning a visit.
“Good. Did you have them send us the bill, pumpkin?”
“Lucy and I were perfectly capable of paying for the house repairs.” It was the age-old argument. Dad wanted to pay for everything. We wanted to be independent.
“I know you are. But if you’re short, I’ll pay the difference.”
I sighed. “
Dad…”
“All right, here’s your mother. Happy Easter, Livy.”
“Bye, Dad. Happy Easter.”
Mom got on the phone, and after fifteen minutes I thought I had sufficiently calmed her down. She told me about a trip to the Everglades she and Dad were planning, and I told her about work. We compared notes on some recent movies we had both seen. It wasn’t unlike most of our conversations, and I braced for the inevitable question she always asked.
I smiled wryly. There was a time when I could tell my mother anything. If I had a date, she and Lucy were the first to hear how it went. If it went badly, she would listen to me moan and do what moms are supposed to do: console me by pointing out my strengths and assuring me I just hadn’t met my match yet. But then Travis came into my life. After him, I never confided in Mom about the pathetic dates I went on, few and far between though they were.
Lucy and I both agreed to keep the gory details of the events that transpired with Travis from our parents. I can’t even imagine what Mom and Dad would have done had they known. Even now, years later, I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. There was no point. It was over and done with. They need never know.
“Darling, you’re such a gorgeous girl. Instead of seeing movies with Justine, you should be making yourself available. Any prospects?”
As a matter of fact, I spent the night with a rich, gorgeous business mogul who saved me from the street after my accident and is now even as we speak tracking down the perpetrator, and oh, did I mention he drives a Porsche and lives in a penthouse overlooking the city and he gave me six orgasms?
“No, Mom.”
“Well, it will happen one day. I know it. Darling, I’ve got to run. Give your sister our love.”
“I will, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you, Livy. Be safe.”
“I will. Bye Mom.”
As I hung up, the oven timer went off. I pulled the cake from the oven, and the kitchen filled with the aroma of chocolatey goodness. I checked my phone for missed calls or texts, finding none. A wave of loneliness swamped me. I wanted to call him, even if it was just to hear his voice, but I didn’t want to appear too needy.