by Renee Young
Olivia, these are so good. Your writing is incredible. My assistant is taking them over to my friend now.
“What?” I said aloud trying to decipher the text that felt like a foreign language to me. Nova glanced at me but I just continued rereading the message. “Shit.” I uttered when I understood what was happening.
“What’s wrong?” My best friend asked from her seat behind the wheel.
“I fucked up. God I fucked up so bad.” I muttered, still unable to take my eyes off the phone screen. I typed a message.
Sawyer?
Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. PLease say no. Please say n-
Yes, who else would it be?
Was the response I got. Of fucking course. “Shit.” I cursed again. “Shit. Shit. Shit. I fucked up.” I said again.
“What’d you do? Did you sleep with Sawyer?” She asked with a little excitement.
“I fucking wish. What I did was much worse.” I insisted.
“Well?” She prompted.
“I gave him my manuscripts.” I whispered and she gasped and swerved little on the road before steadying.
How could I do that? What had he said to convince me to do that? What- how- I couldn’t even process what was happening. I reread the message again.
“Shit.” My head fell to my awaiting hand. “He’s sending them to his publisher friend.” I groaned.
“That’s good though isn’t it.” Nova asked, sounding thoroughly confused.
In theory of course that was great. In practice though- all I know is that my blood pressure and my pulse were both rising as the debilitating anxiety was setting in. People were going to read my writing. What if they waste their time? What if they hate it? What if they tell me it’s the worst thing they’d ever read? What if they tell me I should be committed?
I was not prepared for this. I was not ready to feel like my entire world was just flipped on its axis. Despite how I’d been feeling. Aren’t I allowed to want change, but then do nothing to make change happen? Isn’t that my right as an American? I just wanted to complain. I just wasn’t ready.
How on earth was Sawyer the first person to ever read my writing? Other than me of course. How could I let that happen? What the fuck was I drinking last night?
My thoughts were a jumbled mess, trying to make sense of my entire life on the short ten minute drive to work. It didn’t help that my supportive best friend was beside me shouting questions I didn’t know the answers to at me. I felt the panic rising and I was attempting to focus on my breathing so I didn't have a full on anxiety attack in the front seat of Nova’s SUV.
“Maybe this was the push you needed, Liv.” She tried to console when she noticed the first tear stream from my burning eyes. “Maybe you can talk to Cindy today. Tell her you can’t work there anymore.”
I looked at my best friend, barely registering what she’d said, with a tight grin. I was certain at that moment that there wasn’t a single thing anyone on this planet could say that would calm me down. She could try all she wanted, but it wasn’t gonna help. Nothing would. Some strange man I’d never met would be holding my books in his hands.
I wasn’t sure why but the thought of where those hands had been was running through my mind. Did it matter if he’d washed his mits? Should I really care if he’d be eating cheesy chips or something and get crumbs or food dust all over the white pages I’d printed from my crappy at home printer?
Then an even more terrifying thought popped into my head. Did I even edit my writing? Would he find typos everywhere? Was I typing too fast and maybe using the wrong ‘there’ or ‘your’?
“Hey, we’re here.” Nova’s voice interrupted the absolute panic my mind had pushed itself into.
I think I said thank you as I got out of the car. I believe, even in my stupor, that I was kind enough to offer my appreciation to my best friend in the mere form of a gratifying statement.
The moment I walked through the glass doors of the place I worked I knew the day would be horrible. I knew deep in my soul that I should have never agreed to cover for Kayla. The biggest hint that today would not be my day, other than that shocking reveal on my way to work, was that the person directly inside that daunting glass door was Mike.
Mike is our regional manager. He didn't usually show up without some kind of notice, and it was shocking to see him considering that, while the roads had been plowed, they still weren’t very clear. This meant that Mike was here for a reason. A reason I’m sure I wasn’t going to like.
I was instantly thankful for the ridiculously slow evening I’d had last night because the store looked incredible. I said a quick ‘hello’ to the brooding man before rushing to the back room to discard my gear so I could work my shift the way I was supposed to.
I was in for yet another surprise when I’d reached the back room. Cindy, my manager, was in the back shoveling all her stuff into her purse with a pinched, angry look on her usually bright and sunny face. She looked aggravated, and rather annoyed and I wasn’t sure if I should ask her what was wrong or not.
Her head snapped up to me when she noticed me lurking by the door. I offered her a tiny wave and she lifted one side of her mouth in a half smile.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. Her attempt at cheer dropped and her eyes instantly began to water.
“I was fired.” She informed me with a crack in her voice.
“What? Why?” I rushed to her side. It made absolutely no sense. Cindy has been an amazing manager for as long as she has been the manager. If anyone deserved the job at our store it was her. She ran this place and we would fall apart without her.
“Mike said there was a complaint. Someone claimed I had been snapping at customers. Something I would never do. I tried to defend myself but the sexist fuck assumed I must have been on a hormonal rampage and I just didn’t remember it.” She grunted, her anger resurfacing.
I looked at my manager, who was on the verge of tears, and something snapped. I scoffed and gave her a smile that showed my disbelief. “Come on.” I grabbed her hand and she scrambled to grab her bag. I was fuming. Every step I took the anger and sheer disgust pulsed within me. This fucker did it. He gave me the reason I needed, and for that I will forever thank him. Well in my head I will.
I stopped directly in front of him, Cindy stopping beside me and looking at me curiously. I looked around and made sure he wasn’t dealing with any customers at the moment. I wasn’t about to wait for the store to clear out. No, these primarily female, customers deserved to know who they were shopping with.
“Mike,” I stated calmly, I didn’t want to give away anything to start.
“Olivia.” He greeted back as he let his gaze wash over me and he donned an ugly smirk. I had worked for the company for three years and I had dealt with this creep on far too many occasions. It was a wonder he lasted this long at the company, considering his view on women. He was not the most subtle person when it came to his appreciation for the female form and I had been on the receiving end of his objectification on more than one occasion. I had never witnessed him treat any of our other girls that way, otherwise he’d have heard this speech long ago.
“You’re a pig.” I started. I decided a blunt approach would be best. He visibly jerked away from me, clearly not expecting such a harsh comment to leave my lips. The smirk fell and his eyes washed over with anger, but I ignored it. I’d never done anything to defend myself from him before. I probably never would have either. I didn’t care what he said to me, as long as he didn’t touch me, which he never did. His words wouldn’t bother me. As long as they were directed at me. The moment he opened his mouth and said something so vile- so disgusting- to another woman, that I heard about, is the moment he unleashed what Nova called my ‘Mama Bear’ side.
“Excuse me.” He had the audacity to look appalled. Like I'd been the one to throw around such degrading comments.
“No, Mike the correct response would be to apologize. Not th
at an apology would mean much coming from that bigotted mouth of yours.” I raged. “Three years ago I met you for the first time. Three years ago my opinion was formed and you have done very little to rectify that. You have harassed me and sexualized me for years, and honestly it was gross but I knew you were just some creep. You were barely on my radar. You didn’t affect me because I didn’t let you. Now though, now you’ve crossed the line from gross perv to fucking sexist idiot. How dare you?” I continued. It felt good unleashing everything. I ignored the bell over the door, too heated to even register anyone else around us three.
“How dare you, first of all, fire Cindy? She has done everything she could to run this store. She runs it well, too. She has the best numbers in the entire district. You just can’t see past that little block in your brain that tells you that just because she has a vagina she can’t do a good job. That idiotic filter that tells you if someone made a -completely baseless by the way- complaint about her to just assume she was pmsing. What the actual fuck?” I asked not expecting an actual response.
“Before you even suggest it I’m not on my period either by the way.” I added in not that he needed to know. “I actually don’t even understand how you can work in a place so dominantly run by women and still think so barbarically.” I let out an exasperated breath.
“You can’t talk to me like that, Olivia. I’m still your boss.” He said, not even seeming remotely embarrassed by his behavior. No, he just looked angry and me shouting at him.
“No, Mike. No you’re not. I fucking quit.” I told him with a little smirk. I dropped my name tag on the register with a relieved sigh.
“Well, I guess I don’t need to force you now.” A deep voice chuckled from the doorway.
“Sawyer?” I practically gasped. How fucking cliche.
“Hey, Livvy.” He smirked at me. He was leaning against the wall in his suit.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I questioned, walking towards him. I gestured to the door and he nodded following me out.
“Bye Liv. I’ll see you around. Thank you by the way.” Cindy called while walking to her car. I nodded and waved to her.
“So?” I turned back to the man who’d shown up at my work.
“Last night you begged me to come make sure you quit today and it was my lunch break so..” He shrugged and I groaned.
Why do I have to be so embarrassing? Of course I’d do something like that. Why wouldn’t if I gave him my manuscripts?
“How is it that I have literally known you for two weeks and you have already seen my tits, my writing, and my very heated blow up at my sexist boss?” I questions, attempting to find the humor in this situation.
“What can I say? I bring out the best in you.” He teased and I rolled my eyes.
“Alright, since you’re here do you want to take me home? Or to the store so I can buy a damn battery?” I asked.
“How about you come with me to my office, then I will take you to get a battery when we’re done.” He offered.
“Done with what?” I asked him as we started walking towards his car. All I got in response was a wink. “Done with what, Sawyer?”
Chapter 8
I don’t know what I expected. Maybe I thought he’d bend me over his desk in his office. I think at least a little part of me hoped that’s what he’d had in store. Up against the door or even the glass windows of his high up office where we could see people walking around minding their own business but they couldn’t see us.
What I had not expected, however, was the man waiting in his office for us when we got there. He too, was dressed in a suit. While Sawyer’s was a medium gray color with a navy blue tie, this man wore a maroon suit with no tie.
He stood as we entered the smaller than expected room and offered his greeting to Sawyer, sparing me the slightest glance and grin. The men shook hands before they turned their attention to me.
“Hi, you must be Olivia. I’m Nick. This guy right here has been raving about you for awhile now.” He teased his friend and I looked at Sawyer with a raised brow.
“Really now?” I teased with a smirk. “And what has he said about me, Nick?” I wondered.
“I believe his exact words were ‘She had me in the palm of her hands, god how could I be so stupid?’ Then he told me how 'successful' your photo shoot was.” He chuckled as he looked at his friend.
I noticed Sawyer’s blush as my gaze washed over him. “The palm of my hands huh?” I smirked again, letting my voice drop a little to what I was hoping would be a little seductive. I walked the two steps it took to stand right in front of him. I grabbed his tie and I leaned into him pressing my chest against his while arching up to whisper in his ear, “And what part of you exactly would I have been grasping?”
He let out a little groan and his hands went up to grab my hips, but I moved out of his reach before he had the chance. “Too slow, darling.” I winked at him and he let out a little laugh with a shake of his head.
“Ah, I’m guessing you met Tabitha.” Nick laughed and I looked at him. I wondered how well Nick knew the woman from last night. How well Sawyer knew her too. Had she been a constant fixture in his life? Was she one of his regular hook ups? Was she more? Did she know about his-- tendencies?
“I did.” I confirmed, unsure what to say about her.
“She’s--” He struggled for the correct words, “A character.” He finished diplomatically.
“Speaking of characters; Nick, tell her why you’re here.” Sawyer interrupted, suddenly giving me an uneasy feeling in my gut.
“Ah yes!” Nick sent me a smile, probably meant to be calming, but it had the opposite effect. “I haven’t gotten a chance to read much of what you have written, but I did get through the first two chapters of ‘Delightful’ and I would like to work with you. I can’t promise anything right now, but I’d like to continue reading and maybe help with a little more in depth editing. Maybe help you get some cover art, and then we could talk about publishing.”
I let out a breath. He wants to work with me. He sees potential in my writing- in my book. I wasn’t sure if I should smile and thank him, or ask where he was keeping my stuff so I could grab it and run off never to be heard from again.
“I don’t know what to say. That’s-” I cut myself off not know how I wanted to finish that statement.
“It’s good Livvy.” Sawyer insisted, using my nickname again. I’m sure he was right, but I just couldn’t get over the all consuming desire to lock myself away with every bit of my dark mind, my dark words, where no one could find me. Or if they could find me they couldn’t reach me.
“Right.” I forced a smile through the panic that began to course through me. “Thank you Nick. I look forward to your feedback.” I attempted to seem grateful.
I think I was. Grateful, I mean. I knew the two men weren’t privy to my brand of self doubt, and it wasn’t their fault that I felt like I was falling apart. Just thought of random people out there in the world could one day, possibly read my words- it made me nervous. What if I traumatized someone? Or worse, what if someone related to what I was writing? What if someone hurt the way I hurt?
The thought hit me like a damn truck. What if someone hurt the way I hurt? What if they needed the words because they couldn’t find them on their own? What if my pain could help someone understand and possibly face their own? Books were an escape to so many people, what if my book became someone’s escape?
Was that an arrogant thought? That my words could maybe someday change someone’s life?
Did anyone else’s mind work this way? A million thoughts all at once, most of them destructive instead of constructive?
“Okay, how does this all work?” I questioned suddenly. I wanted to publish. I wanted to get my books out there on the off chance they could help someone someday.
Together, Nick and I worked out a schedule of when we would get together to work on my books. He said that, judging from the first two chapters, we wouldn’t need to do much editing
. Just some refining that comes easier with a fresh pair of eyes.
Sawyer sat quietly at his desk while we spoke. He was working on something, but I didn’t fail to notice his eyes naturally fell on me whenever he would look up from his papers. To be fair I only caught on because I found myself instinctively looking at him as well.So it wasn’t like I could judge him or tease him for it.
After Nick left to go back to his own office, which happened to be in the same building, Sawyer and I sat in silence as he finished up his last bit of paperwork. I sat in the chair across from him and chose to just observe.
I watched his large hands as he gripped what looked like a tiny pen, when in actuality it was regular sized. I let my eyes trail up his forearms which were now exposed due to him losing his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves about an hour ago. Up to his thick biceps which led to his broad chest, all encased in a white button up shirt that was held taught enough over his torso to keep a girl intrigued, but kept him covered enough to try and ward off such inappropriate thoughts.
I’m sure he was aware of the fantasies he elicited from probably any woman he’d come in contact with. He definitely had the confidence of someone who knew. He sat in his big fancy chair doing almost nothing and he commanded this room and likely the next. Even the air around him sparked with intensity enough to bring out the dormant desire in even the most celibate of women.
It was of no surprise to me that he’d have his pick of women. They probably fell at his feet just begging to be destroyed by him. They let him wreck each of them. Physically and emotionally. They’d let him handle them. They’d want that strength he oozed. They’d breathe in his masculinity and lay down before him. Bare everything to him.
That’s not what I wanted. I didn’t want to be beneath him. I didn’t want to be tamed by him.
I wanted to do the taming. I wanted him to bend to my every whim. I craved to see him beg me, please me in a way I had no doubt he could. I wanted to watch him squirm, unable to control himself in my presence. I wanted to hold him in my hands primed to act out my every desire.
