Contessa

by Lori L. Otto

  “Sure,” Jon says after taking a deep breath.

  “I don’t want anything to drink,” I say quickly.

  “Honey, I gotta ID anyone who comes in here.”

  “Uncle Ray, just... it’s fine, Liv. He’s not going to say anything.”

  I glare at Jon, but he can’t see my eyes through the sunglasses. I think about walking out of the bar, but he truly is happier than I’ve seen him, and I don’t want to be the one to spoil it. I pull my wallet out of my bag and give the bartender my ID card. He flashes a light on it to see it clearly. He studies mine for a few seconds, and then looks up at Jon. “Well, look at you. Ivy League and high-society.”

  “Whatever,” Jon says, taking my ID back from his uncle quickly.

  “Livvy Holland,” he says to me. “Your daddy know you’re here?”

  “Absolutely not,” Jon answers again. “Mum’s the word. I just want her here to celebrate with me.”

  “Got it,” Ray says. “Is this your first time in a bar, Livvy?”

  “Yes,” I say with a small smile.

  He picks up the three shots at the bar and hands one to Jon and one to me.

  “Well, welcome. And congrats, Jonny. Good job, all around.”

  “Thanks,” Jon says. “This is for you, Dad,” he adds, looking up toward the ceiling, caught up in the moment. The guys set their glasses down on the bar first before shooting them. I take a taste, cringing at the flavor.

  “Olivia,” Jon says as I sip it down.

  “Ow, that burns,” I croak.

  “That was a lot for you, baby. I’m not sure that was a good idea.”

  “Well, why’d you give it to me?” I ask with a shrug. “Plus, you’re not going to get accepted into Columbia every day. So you’re right, we should celebrate. Another?”

  “Not for you, Missy,” Ray says. “Two more down here, Derrick.” He and Jon do one more shot each. The younger bartender has set down a large glass of water with a lemon in it, too–next to another shot of tequila. He winks at me as he walks away. I take it quickly, while Jon isn’t looking. The liquid sloshes onto my shirtsleeve as I drink it. This one burns even more.

  “Liv!” Jon says, surprised. “Where’d you get that?”

  “That other guy–Derrick. He gave it to me!” I laugh. “What, was I supposed to decline it? That would have been rude!”

  He groans loudly, picking up the glass of water. Jon takes a sip of it before handing it to me.

  “Please, drink this now,” he says, clearly worried. “This was so not my intention. Your dad will murder me. Forget Columbia. I’ll be in jail by morning.”

  “Jon,” I giggle.

  “Drink,” he repeats the order, serious. “Thanks, Ray.”

  “You’re welcome, kid. I’m so proud of you.” His uncle hugs him once more.

  “I think we’re gonna go get a quick bite to eat,” Jon says as he watches me suck down the water. “Have you eaten?”

  “No. We’re supposed to have dinner together tonight, remember?”

  “I was just wondering how drunk you’re going to be before we make it to the restaurant.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “You will be.”

  “It was two drinks!”

  “Drink,” he instructs once more. “They were two potent drinks on an empty stomach of a tiny girl.” He pokes me in the stomach as I gulp the water down, then takes the half-empty glass from me and sets it on the bar.

  “I’m not a little girl.”

  “I didn’t say that, first of all. And I certainly didn’t mean it that way, Olivia.” He stares at my lips. “Don’t get all pouty. There just aren’t a lot of places that alcohol can go in there except straight into your bloodstream.”

  “I. Am. Fine.” In truth, I feel a little uneven, but I like it.

  “There’s a taco shop two doors down,” Jon’s uncle suggests. “Tell them you’re my nephew. They owe me.”

  “Thanks.” He guides me out of the bar, and I take his hand and start walking back the way we came. “This way,” he says with a soft tug. I trip into him, feeling a little unsteady.

  He wraps his arms around me tightly. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he says softly.

  I look at him curiously. “You watched him hand it to me,” I argue with him.

  “The first one, yeah, but you said you didn’t want anything. I thought that meant you wouldn’t drink anything.”

  “I thought you wanted me to.”

  “Liv, what have I told you? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with–”

  I stop him from saying anything more by kissing him with no restraint. He takes a few steps backwards to get out of the middle of the sidewalk, never letting up on the grasp around my body. He picks me up and sets me down on a step so we’re standing at nearly exactly the same height. He quickly takes off my cap and sunglasses, throwing them haphazardly onto the ground behind me. His arms return to hold me, his hands move down my back, finally settling deep into the pockets of my jeans, and he pulls me into him. I whimper quietly as I hold his head next to mine, one hand playing with his ear, the other toying with the short hair at the nape of his neck. I press my fingers into his scalp.

  A slight moan forms in the back of his throat as he kisses my neck, then ducks his head next to my shoulder, taking quick breaths.

  “Are you okay?” I ask as I softly run my fingers through his hair.

  “No,” he whispers.

  “No?”

  “New rule, Liv. No more tequila for you until you tell me we can go back to my apartment. Or better yet, Donna’s apartment.”

  I laugh quietly to myself. “I don’t think it’s the tequila.”

  “And I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. Come on, we need to get you something to eat before you go home. Accounting for the cab ride, we have about an hour.”

  “Plenty of time for more of this,” I tell him with another kiss.

  “No, it’s just enough time to eat, or get you sobered up. I hope an hour is enough time.” His sideways glance and half-smile shows me he’s pretty confident that I’ll be fine by the time he delivers me to my doorstep. He picks up the cap and sunglasses, handing them to me and putting his arm around me, guiding me to the taco shop.

  “What were the girls’ names?” I ask him as he sets down some food in front of me. He slides into the booth next to me.

  “Sorry?” he asks.

  “The girls you were with. What were their names?”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I ever meet them, I want to know who they are.”

  “Why?” he asks me seriously. “Neither of them is a threat to you.”

  “So they aren’t pretty?”

  “They aren’t you,” he says with a shrug. “I didn’t choose you because you’re pretty, you know...”

  “Choisie,” I say with a satisfied grin, touching the necklace. He laughs at me. “Names?”

  “Ashley and Stephanie.”

  “Thank you,” I say as I pick the tomatoes out of a hard-shell taco. “I liked how you kissed me out there on the street,” I tell him, looking up at him coquettishly.

  “I liked it, too.”

  “It’s my favorite kiss.”

  “You’re drunk,” he chuckles. I smile and pick up a piece of lettuce and nibble on it. “You better eat more than that.”

  “Did you ever kiss them like that?” As soon as I ask, I realize I might not be as comfortable with his answer as I was when I brazenly asked the question. I cringe for his response.

  “Should I lie?” He takes a bite of a quesadilla.

  “Nope,” I tell him, wanting to know the truth, but truly afraid of what he’ll say.

  “Yes, I did.” He studies my reaction intently. I try to keep a straight face. I asked for it, I know I did. “I totally did, Liv, but it never felt that good. I never felt for them a fraction of what I feel for you. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to catch my breath. My heart is sti
ll pounding.” He takes my hand and presses it underneath his shirt. My fingers touch his firm chest and feel the quick, heavy pulse beneath his skin. “And those are just the things I can put into words that won’t completely offend you.” I scratch his chest playfully, then run my nails down his torso slowly. He shivers and grabs my hand, pressing it against his thigh. “If I kissed a hundred girls like that, I promise you not a single one would have the effect on me that your kiss does. I love you.”

  “I’d hate you if you kissed a hundred girls.”

  “You could never hate me.”

  He kisses me again with passion and reverence. My thumb moves curiously, cautiously, but he again takes my hand in his, this time weaving his fingers between mine.

  “I have a feeling that you’re going to make me forget any of the girls before you.” He leans his forehead against mine and kisses my cheek. “And I don’t plan on there being any girls after you.”

  “That’s sweet,” I tell him, feeling a catch in my throat.

  “But we may never find out if I don’t get you sobered up and home.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “No, but you’re not thinking clearly, either,” he says.

  “Yes I am.”

  “Uh-huh,” he says sarcastically. “Please eat something more than lettuce.”

  “Tell me you love me again,” I bargain with him.

  “I love you, Olivia Holland. I’ll love you even more after you’ve taken a bite of that.”

  I take a big bite. “So you love me more now?” I ask him before I swallow the mouthful of food.

  “I’ll love you even more after you finish eating that bite,” he says, laughing. I finish chewing it and swallow it.

  “Better?”

  “I couldn’t love you any more than I do right now,” he tells me.

  “I bet you could.”

  “I bet you’re right. If I could show you, Liv...” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

  “Show me,” I whisper.

  He leans into me closely, his lips only inches from mine and angles my face to his. “Eat your dinner,” he says in his sexiest voice. “I’ll show you another day. And it will arguably be the best day of my life.”

  “Better than today?”

  “Better than today.”

  “But you’re going to Columbia!” I squeal a little louder than I mean to.

  “Well,” he corrects me. “I got accepted. I still have to find the money.”

  “Piece of cake,” I tell him. “I’ve got lots of it.”

  He smiles and kisses me, picking up the taco and feeding me another bite. “C’mon, we’ve got to go soon.”

  “But the night is young!” I plead with him.

  “Not to your parents.” I frown before taking another bite of food.

  “We have forty-five minutes,” I whisper. “And we still have to make a stop.”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s fine. It might actually buy us some time.” I finish eating quickly, anxious to share my spontaneous surprise with him. “You ready?”

  “I guess so.”

  “We need a cab.”

  He follows me out of the restaurant and walks up to the door of a vacant taxi, opening it for me.

  “East Village,” I tell the driver. “7th and Avenue A.”

  “We’ll never make it back in time.”

  “Relax, it’s Kelly’s bakery. We need to get you a birthday cupcake.”

  “Your dad’s sister?”

  “Yes. I’ll just have her call Dad and tell him we’re on our way. He won’t mind.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. I’ll just tell him our dinner service was horrible–”

  “Yes, at the taco shop where we were the only diners.”

  “He doesn’t have to know that,” I laugh.

  “Your lies are getting out of control, Liv,” he says with a little humor and a little judgment. “I don’t know how you keep it all straight.”

  “Oh, this is a tiny one.” I smile at him innocently. He puts his arm across my shoulder and pulls me into him. I close my eyes as the cab takes us to Kelly’s shop.

  “You’re not sleeping, are you?” Jon asks.

  “No,” I answer, a little startled at the sound of his booming voice, my ear resting against his chest.

  “Well, is this the place?”

  I open my eyes, surprised that we’ve already arrived. Maybe I did doze off.

  “Yeah, um. Yep,” I say with a little more energy. I scramble to find cash in my purse.

  “I took care of it already.”

  “Oh,” I blush. “Thanks.”

  “You were sleeping.” He laughs quietly, getting out of the car.

  “It’s been a long day,” I respond, stumbling a little on the curb as I step out. An invigorating cold breeze lashes across my face, breathing new life into me. My second wind, I think to myself and shake off the sleep. Jon takes my hand, leading me into the shop. “Hey, Kelly!” I say at the sight of my aunt.

  “Hey, Liv,” she says, squinting her eyes at me. “What are you doing down here so late?”

  “It’s Jon’s birthday,” I explain happily. “I wanted to buy him a cupcake. Don’t worry, Dad gave us permission.”

  “Well,” Jon says. “We just had dinner. I didn’t know about the cupcake stop, so I’m afraid we might not make it back by curfew.”

  I grin at his set-up, then look at my watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late.” I act worried, but I’m not.

  “What would you like?”

  “Chocolate,” Jon says quickly.

  “Dark, milk or white?”

  “Oh. Milk, I guess.”

  “Livvy, lemon for you?”

  “Of course. Lemon cupcakes are my favorite in the whole world,” I tell Jon. “Like, I really like strawberry, too. And she makes a spice one, but there is nothing better in the world than Kelly’s lemon cupcakes.”

  “Okay,” Jon says simply, his voice much softer than mine.

  “What? I’m serious! Kelly, add another lemon one so I don’t have to share with him.”

  “I believe you, baby,” he says. Kelly grabs a small box and puts in the three cupcakes we selected. She adds three more of varied flavors and seals the box with her signature sticker.

  “The rest are for your family,” Kelly tells me, handing me the box. “They’re on me. Enjoy.”

  “Thank you!” I tell her, giddy. “You’re the best aunt in the whole world,” I gush. “Don’t tell Anna or Jen. Or Kayd. But you are. You’re almost as good as a lemon cupcake–”

  “Alright,” Jon says as he takes the box from me. “We better go. We’re going to be late.” He squeezes my hand hard and starts toward the door. “Thank you, Kelly.”

  “You’re both welcome. Livvy, I’ll call Jacks and let him know you’re on your way.”

  “‘Kay!” I answer. “Thanks!”

  “You are going directly there, right?” she asks.

  “Yes, ma’am,” my boyfriend answers politely.

  “Happy birthday, Jon. I hope you had a good day.”

  “He’s going to Columbia!” I yell to Kelly as Jon ushers me through the door. He grimaces and nervously looks back at her, nodding his head.

  “I got accepted, that’s all.” The smile from earlier has all but disappeared.

  “He’ll go,” I assure my aunt, going back inside the shop. “I mean, we have money–”

  “Nope, we’re not discussing this. We need to get you home,” he interrupts, tugging on my arm. “Sorry, Kelly.”

  “Congratulations on your acceptance,” I hear her say as Jon pushes me out the door.

  “Thanks,” Jon barely mutters.

  “Taxi!” I yell at a few passing cabs. Jon is quick to wrap his arms around me. “I love you,” I mumble into his jacket.

  “Yeah, we are screwed, Liv.”

  “She says she’s going to call my dad! We’re fine!”

  “I have
no doubt she’ll tell him about how you’re acting, too. You obviously didn’t have enough to eat, and you’re a chatty drunk.”

  “I’m not a drunk,” I pout.

  “No, but you are drunk, and I could tell by Kelly’s expression that she’d figured that out.”

  “Nuh-uh,” I argue playfully.

  “Please shut up.” He swallows hard, and there’s no smile on his face. I bite my lip, feeling as if I’ve been scolded. He manages to flag down another cab and opens the door for me. I hit my head getting in.

  “Ow.”

  “You okay?” he asks as he sits next to me. His question sounds more obligatory than concerned.

  “I’ll live.”

  “I hope,” he says. “We should have just gotten you home, and skipped the cupcakes.”

  “But I wanted to do that for your birthday,” I whine.

  “I appreciate it, but you were not subtle in the slightest, Olivia. When you get home, you need to tone it down, say as little as possible and go to bed. Tell them you’re tired, you don’t feel well, something you ate didn’t agree with you... just something.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say back loudly, adding a salute.

  “Shhh.”

  “Yes, sir,” I whisper. “When you’re at Columbia, I’ll just be able to go back to your place and crash.”

  “Not while you’re in high school,” he corrects me. “You’ve got another year. Or have you forgotten?”

  “My parents love you.”

  “Right.” He’s quiet as the cab driver navigates through midtown. “If I’m at Columbia.”

  “Huh?”

  “Again, you said ‘when,’ and it’s ‘if’ at this point.”

  “You got in! Do you think there’s any chance that the most philantropi–philathro–that the richest nice guy in the city will not pay your way?”

  “Philanthropic,” he states, rolling his eyes. “We’ve discussed this, Olivia, I don’t date you for your money, and I wouldn’t want that.”

  “But they want that.”

  “Who wants what?”

  “My parents want you to go to Columbia. They’d do anything to help.” I shift in the backseat to sit on my knees, facing him. I put my arms around his neck and try to engage him in a kiss. It’s as if I have to drag it out of him, but he eventually kisses me back. “Don’t you think they’ve dreamed of me dating an Ivy League boy?”