Low Over High (The Over Duet #1)

by J. A. Derouen

  And we do.

  “If you put that grubby finger in my icing bowl, I will snap it right off,” I say, armed with a whisk in one hand and a pastry bag in the other.

  Ever pouts and extends a finger. I lunge forward, and he flinches. I win. He gets back to work beside me, stealing occasional glances as I place the cupcakes in the display case.

  I smile as I pipe the lemon frosting and bump his hip. “You can lick the bowl when I’m done, ya big baby,” I say, never looking his way.

  “If you two are done playing footsie behind the counter, there are two new loads of inventory to stock in the back,” Remy says as he gives Ever a disappointed glare.

  When did Remy become Etienne’s little enforcer boy? Hell, Ever said he’s the one who started the grocery game. He needs to untwist his panties pronto.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ever says with a chuckle, shoving Remy’s shoulder as he rounds the deli counter. Remy loosens up, if only slightly, as he and Ever fall into step.

  Before they make it to the grocery aisles, the bell chimes above the door, announcing a new customer. We all lift our heads toward the door that’s framing a very intent and somber Oliver. Obviously coming here straight from work, his three-piece suit looks as determined as he does. Fight or flight takes over, and I push away from the counter to hide before common sense and good manners win out.

  “Marlo,” he says, managing to look apologetic and smug at the same time. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Would you step outside with me, please?”

  I look at Ever before I answer, and he rushes back to me, grabbing my hand. “You don’t have to go. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says. “Or I could go out there with you, if you’re uncomfortable.”

  I get all tingly at the thought of a protective Ever, but I need to face this one on my own. Oliver is a jerk, but I’m not afraid of him. It’s Monday, and I’d spent the entire weekend missing Ever and avoiding Evelyn. Ever had returned on Sunday, like always, but I kept the silence going with Evelyn. She’d called every day, but I wasn’t sure what to say to her. A weekend of hiding out is long enough. It’s time to face Evelyn … and Oliver.

  I shake my head. “No, it’s okay,” I say as I move around the deli counter and head for the door. “I’ll be fine.”

  Ever reaches for my hand, and I turn to face him. The concern in his eyes melts me. “I’ll be right inside the doorway, if you need me.”

  I nod and walk toward poker-faced Oliver, passing through the door he holds open for me.

  The door shuts behind us, but we stay in the tiny alcove of the store entry. I peek through the window and see Ever hovering. Oliver remains silent, hands on his hips and eyes to the sidewalk. I don’t think he’s used to being in a position of humility. Quite frankly, I’m enjoying this way more than I should.

  Squirm it up, assface. You deserve it.

  “I have no interest in half-baked apologies,” I say, looking him directly in the eye. When met with pure douchery, rule number one is “show no fear.”

  “I understand,” he says, his mouth twisted as if I jammed a lemon in it … not a bad idea, actually. “I do. What you heard the other night was—unfortunate, to say the least.”

  “Okay…”

  Please don’t talk about the limp dick. Please don’t talk about the limp dick…

  He sighs and runs his hand over his face. “Marlo, there are many layers of love, history, and even hurt, when a couple has been together as long as we have. Evelyn and I are complicated, and we say things we don’t mean sometimes.”

  “You say things you don’t mean to get overheard,” I say, frustrated with him talking to me like a naive child. I don’t need the “Mommy and Daddy love each other very much” speech.

  “Yes, that’s true, I can’t deny it. I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand, and I certainly didn’t intend for you to hear it. I’m sorry you did.”

  “Do you believe what you said?” I ask, and he looks at me, confused. “Do you believe she sought out my brother and me for selfish reasons? That she doesn’t have my best interest at heart?”

  Oliver lets out a long sigh and grimaces. He watches me for a moment, sizing me up. I give nothing away. “I won’t mince words with you, Marlo. You deserve honesty, and I’ll give you that much. I think Evelyn truly believes she is sincere in her motives. But Evelyn has a fluid relationship with the truth; it’s a malleable thing she can bend to her will. The woman who is trying to be in your life is such a departure from the woman I’ve been married to for the past ten years. Evelyn loathes ties of any kind. She has never been home to Mississippi in all the time we’ve been together. When we met, we both agreed we had no want or need for children. In all the years we’ve been together, she never mentioned you or your brother.”

  I clutch my stomach and let out a small gasp. This one admission, the fact that Evelyn had never mentioned one word of us to him, cuts more than all the years she had been absent in my life. It’s stifling. Oliver, on the other hand, goes on as if he just told me he had a turkey sandwich for lunch today.

  “So when she drops this bomb on me a couple of years ago, that she has two children I never knew about, I felt blindsided, understandably. It makes no sense to me that a woman who spent the last decade ignoring any semblance of family would all of a sudden seek them out. Why now? I may be wrong, I truly hope I am, but I wonder why she would choose to find you now.”

  He doesn’t sound malicious, really. Selfish? Absolutely. He’s probably one of the most self-centered people I’ve ever met. Somehow, he’s found a way to make Evelyn and me reconnecting all about him.

  He’s truly bewildered by his wife’s actions, and although it’s obvious he doesn’t like me very much, I don’t think it’s personal. How ridiculous is that? He doesn’t like me, but it has nothing to do with me. As silly as it sounds, I know it’s the truth. I could be anyone at all and he’d be put out by me. I’m disrupting his carefully constructed life. So did Evelyn, and he’s irritated. He thinks Evelyn is the selfish one, but I’m beginning to think Evelyn may know Oliver is the true culprit.

  “You know, you ask why now. Do you know what I wonder?” He raises his eyebrows in question. “Why not before? What kept her from contacting Declan and me before?”

  The dream of having my mother reenter my life is far less heavy than the reality. The details weigh down the unfocused illusion—complicate what had always felt simple in the mind of a child. As Oliver’s eyes narrow and darken, I know he isn’t seeing a child when he looks at me. He sees an adversary.

  “Are you implying that it’s my fault you grew up without a mother? Because, if that’s the case, you’re way out of line,” he hisses, leaning in like a teacher scolding an unruly student.

  I step back.

  “That’s not what I mean.” I shake my head, frustrated. “I just think, instead of assuming that Evelyn has dishonest motives, maybe consider that she may have been protecting you and your marriage by waiting to contact us. I mean, I don’t know that, of course. But why must we always believe the worst in people? Why would you automatically assume the worst about your wife, of all people?”

  Oliver takes a step back and places a nervous hand to his forehead. The unflappable appears good and flapped.

  Mission accomplished.

  “She made her own choices a long time ago, long before you were ever in the picture. That blame lies with her. But I doubt it’s as black and white as that.”

  He gives me a grim smile and nods. “No one blames you either, Marlo. Of course, no one blames you; you were an innocent child in all of this. I apologize if I made you feel attacked or uncomfortable. Christ, I came here with the intention of rectifying this unpleasant situation, and I’ve only made it worse.”

  I hear the bell ring, and turn to meet Ever’s concerned gaze. He steps outside and moves closer, placing a firm hand on my arm. Oliver may as well be the smoking receptacle for all the attention Ever gives
him.

  “Is everything okay out here? Do you want to come back inside with me, Low?” he whispers, but only a decibel shy of his normal voice, well within earshot of Oliver.

  I shake my head, and Oliver raises his hand in protest. “No, he’s right. I’ve taken too much of your time, and my words are failing me today. I only meant to come here and apologize,” he says, looking truly remorseful. “Also, I’d like you to consider answering Evelyn’s calls. She only wants to make amends, and it would mean a great deal if you gave her the opportunity to do so.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, but Oliver looks doubtful.

  “Maybe you’d still like to have dinner Thursday night?” Oliver says with a hopeful expression.

  “Marlo, do you think that’s a good idea?” Ever asks, wearing a frown, making it known he does not.

  “That would be wonderful. You should come,” Oliver says, and then gestures to Ever. “The both of you. Evelyn would enjoy the company.”

  I look over to Ever, who shrugs and nods, obviously more agreeable to the offer now that he’s included. Who knew he’d be such a watchdog?

  “We’ll see you then,” I say, forcing a smile that Oliver returns.

  “I think it’s best for all involved if I sit this one out.” He unbuttons his jacket and slides his hands into his pockets. “At least for now. I believe I’ve done enough for the time being.”

  With a terse nod, Oliver leaves us standing in the alcove. I turn to Ever and wiggle my eyebrows. He laughs and draws me closer.

  “What do you think of all of this?” he asks.

  “Honestly, I spent the first part of our conversation playing the grocery game in reverse.”

  He pulls away without letting go of me and furrows his brows. “Reverse grocery game.”

  “Yeah, in my version, I get to pick the three grocery items Oliver most deserves.”

  I smirk, and Ever laughs.

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What did you choose for Mr. Personality?”

  And now I really smirk. “The biggest cucumber in the store, the hottest hot sauce, and a bottle of Jack.”

  He tilts his head, prompting me to explain further.

  “That cucumber has a date where the sun doesn’t shine. You’d likely have to remove the stick first, but you get my drift,” I say as Ever cracks up laughing.

  “And the hot sauce?”

  “That’s his lube.”

  “Wow, that’s the stuff nightmares are made of, Low. I’m clenching my ass cheeks just thinking about it.” He chuckles. “How about the Jack?”

  I shrug and examine my nails closely. “Because I’m not a total sadist.” I roll my eyes, but stop short. “But if I change my mind, I can always douse him in it and set him on fire.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing he won’t be at dinner Thursday night.”

  “Eh, after our talk, I guess I can amend the list … slightly,” I say, and Ever waits for my response. “I’ll let him have the basil-infused olive oil instead of the hot sauce.”

  Ever bursts out laughing as he ushers me inside and kisses my temple. “I knew deep-down you were a softy, Low.”

  Marlo

  CLICK-CLICK. CLICK-CLICK. CLICK-CLICK.

  I narrow murderous eyes at Jeb, and he stops mid-click, thumb hovering over the top of his pen. He shrugs, looking apologetic, and refocuses his attention on his philosophy textbook.

  Jeb is the worst study partner ever. He has the attention span of a squirrel on crack, and a complete inability to keep still for longer than thirty seconds. He’d lured me to the commons room under the guise of helping him with his philosophy paper. Since we each chose a different topic to write about, I’d told him I didn’t think I’d be much help. He hadn’t seemed to care. He chose to answer the question, “Is acting morally a necessity for happiness?”

  Very telling choice.

  He only has the one pen because I confiscated the other one when he kept using them as drums to beat out the opening riff to “Bullet the Blue Sky” by U2. The fact that I’d recognized the song gave him a “kind-of woody,” and he hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit remorseful at his admission.

  I’d told him to tie his “kind-of woody” into a blood-cutting knot and get to work. That had gotten his attention … for thirty seconds.

  I refocus on my work, answering the question of “Are there universal moral issues that are right for all persons at all times?” I’d walked into the assignment certain the answer to the question was a definite yes, but now I’m floundering.

  Murder? What about war?

  Stealing? What if a mother’s child is starving to death?

  Lying? To protect those I love, I think lying is morally sound.

  Rape? Never rape. There’s never an instance where rape is okay, so maybe there’s one that’s wrong for all people at all times…

  Before I can delve further into questionable morality, I look up and find Jeb tinkering with a daisy chain of paper clips.

  “Digging in my book sack again, you little thief?” I cross my arms and glare.

  He shrugs and wraps the chain once around his neck, leaving a long tail at one end. He picks up two pens, obviously having stolen back the pen I’d confiscated, and drums out a riff I can’t place. He keeps doing it over and again, getting more and more frustrated as I shrug, clueless.

  “Really? Even with the hint?” he says, picking up the paper clip tail. He shakes his head and feigns disappointment. “’Pretty Noose’ by Soundgarden. Jeez!”

  “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to let you down.”

  He looks down and grabs his crotch. “Kind-of chubby totally gone. That’s the breaks, Low. Maybe next time.”

  “I’m think I’m gonna pass, ya freaking perv,” I say with a chuckle. I put down my pencil and cross my arms, resigned to the fact I’m not getting any work done with Jeb around. “Since it’s obvious you have no intention of letting me get any work done, let’s chat.”

  He nods, and matches my crossed arms. “Let’s.”

  “How long have you been Ever’s friend?”

  Jeb grabs the end of his paper clip noose and pulls it up high. He flops his head to the side and shuts his eyes, tongue dangling out of his mouth.

  “Sorry, I’m dead and unavailable for comment,” he spits out around his tongue.

  I grab the end of his noose and pull him forward with a jerk. He lets out a grunt, and his eyes fly open in surprise.

  “Oh, look, he’s risen from the dead,” I deadpan, and drop the paper clips. “I’m not asking you to break the bro-code or anything, Jeb. If I ask something you don’t want to answer, you’re more than welcome to say ‘none ya business,’ okay?”

  He ponders my question, looking to the ceiling for a moment, then smiles. “All right, Low Down Dirty Shame. I’ll play. I’ve been friends with Ever since I arrived at this fine establishment of education the middle of my sophomore year. So … about two years.”

  “Wow, you’ve survived at Orleans Academy for two whole years, Jeb? I’m impressed.” I give him an honorary nod, smirking the whole time. “Why haven’t you told me about this amazing feat before now?”

  He brushes imaginary lint off his shoulder and shrugs. “I don’t like to brag.”

  I burst out laughing. “Bullshit.”

  His lips widen into a full grin, and I’m taken by all that is Jeb. His smile is infectious, warming anyone lucky enough to see it. He has such an easy way about him, like he’s aware of all the bad in the world, but chooses to revel in everything wonderful. While Ever holds two-ton weights in his hands, Jeb grasps at the end of a massive helium balloon. I bet their friendship gives each of them a balance they may not even realize they need.

  “So, tell me about Ever’s last girlfriend,” I say, jumping headfirst into the fire. All he can say is no, right?

  “Can’t.”

  “Over the line?”

  “Nah, but I’ve never met one of Ever’s girlfriends. He’s never dated a girl
from school, never shown interest in any girl at Orleans Academy. Until you,” he says, watching my reaction closely.

  My stomach flips, and I fight the grin creeping onto my face. I don’t think I’m an overly jealous person, but it makes my day to think I’m the only girl Ever has dated here at school.

  Jeb raises a hand to stop my musings of being Ever’s one and only. “He’s had some flings with some of Remy’s friends, and he’s had a girlfriend or two back home, but I got the feeling those were fleeting and served a particular purpose,” he says, with an eyebrow raise. “You know what purpose I’m talking about, right?”

  I huff and throw a wadded up piece of paper at him. “Yes, Jeb, I know what you’re talking about. I’m not a fricking idiot.”

  Wow, talk about washing those warm, fuzzy thoughts away with a vengeance…

  “Simmer down, woman; don’t kill the messenger.” I glare at him, and he inches back in his chair with a frightful expression. “Let me finish, all right? So there’s been the occasional chick, but he’s never, and I mean never, spent this much time with anyone. Even me.”

  “What do you mean, ‘even you’?” How can he say that when he lives with Ever?

  “Look, Ever’s my boy, and I’d do anything for him. But he’d never let me, because he keeps me at arm’s length. I see him come back here every Sunday, torn the fuck up. I’ve heard some downright hateful conversations between him and his parents. I see him disappear more nights than I can count, only to come back after I’ve gone to bed, fumbling around and smelling like weed. But anything I don’t see with my own eyes or hear myself? I’ll never know. Because he doesn’t share. Now, I’m guessing I haven’t told you anything you don’t already know?” He looks for my confirmation, and I give him a terse nod. He raises his hand in affirmation. “Exactly. Because, for some reason, he’s decided to let you in.”

  Jeb’s words are weighty, and I want to be worthy of Ever’s trust. I also want to know what I did to deserve it in the first place. I want to know why I’m important to him.

  “It’s a lot of responsibility. He’s a great guy, and he deserves an amazing girl,” he says solemnly. I’ve never seen Jeb look more serious, a total about-face from the boy drumming U2 only moments ago. I guess there is something Jeb can be serious about.