Never Be the Same

by M. A. Binfield

  “Why are you being so nice to me? I’ve been horrible.”

  “I’m a professional. It’s my job to be nice to clients, however they behave.” Casey saw Olivia react to the words with something that looked a lot like hurt.

  She was a mystery. Hard-faced one minute, super sensitive the next. Casey relented. She could be nicer than this, and it was gonna be a long couple of weeks if they couldn’t find a way to get on.

  “And I know what jet lag feels like. I just got in from the States myself. I guessed you just needed a nap. Plus, your friends bailed on you and this is your only free day. I’m not surprised your mood was a little off.” Casey held Olivia’s gaze, willing her not to react badly to her honesty. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want her to complain to David. Something about Olivia intrigued her, despite her behavior today.

  “Yeah, and buffers were hit. Let’s not forget that. And I haven’t even managed to have any proper food. I mean, anyone would be cranky about that, right?” Olivia sipped her coffee and sighed. For a second, neither of them said anything.

  “They’re like shock absorbers. Buffers. Those big round metal things on the front of a train, in case it hits something. I googled it while you were sleeping.”

  “Huh. Who knew?”

  “We do, now.”

  If nobody needed her to drive this afternoon, Casey had things she could be doing. She should encourage Olivia back into the hotel and get on sorting through her mom’s bills. But she had a strange yearning to keep Olivia talking.

  “And you presumably got to admire the world’s oldest jeweled anointing spoon on your visit to the Crown Jewels, so the day hasn’t been a total disaster.”

  “I did. It was a very cool spoon.” Olivia rewarded her with a small smile, and Casey couldn’t help but think that if she responded that well to sleep and coffee, maybe the job wouldn’t be so bad. “But it doesn’t seem like much to show for my only day off this trip.”

  “What time is your evening thing?”

  “Eight. But I want to try to get dinner with my friends before it starts.”

  Casey looked at her watch.

  “Want to go for a walk with your driver who hates driving?” She was taking a chance that Olivia had a sense of humor hidden in there somewhere. “There’s this cool museum about fifteen minutes’ walk from here. It’s a bit off the beaten track, and I can almost guarantee that at this time of day there won’t be a line.”

  Olivia was looking at her with wide eyes, and Casey waited for the lecture about being far too keen on walking for a driver. She was ready for it this time. Of course, she was keen on walking, most professional drivers hated driving. Obviously. What was less obvious was why she was offering to spend more time with Olivia when she’d spent the last four hours wanting to be as far away from her as possible.

  “I just feel bad that you didn’t get to see even half of what you’d planned.” Olivia’s plans had been crazily optimistic, but that didn’t mean Casey was being insincere. “And this museum happens to have the advantage of being right next door to one of London’s oldest and finest pie and mash shops. I’m hungry, and if sampling pie and mash isn’t on that list of touristy must-dos of yours, then it should be.”

  Casey told herself that she was trying to get back into Olivia’s good books, to try to avoid her complaining to David. It was half true, but there was something else, something about Olivia that made her feel protective. It was something that Casey didn’t want to acknowledge.

  “You’re offering to take me to a museum?”

  “I am.”

  “And to eat pie?” Olivia sounded confused.

  “Especially that.”

  “But you already made it super clear that you’re not my chaperone.”

  “I’m not. But you’re the one who reminded me that I’m getting paid regardless of whether I’m driving, eating pie, or watching you sleep.” She blanched at the fact she’d said that last part out loud. Clearly, Olivia wasn’t the only one in need of sleep. “And I like visiting museums and eating pie, so…”

  “I’m sorry, I’m usually not that much of a bitch.”

  Casey didn’t reply. She had no idea whether or not that was true. She didn’t know Olivia at all. And she did seem like someone very used to getting her own way.

  “Well, if you’re serious. I would really like that. And not just because I’m starving.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Olivia pushed herself up in the seat, took a long pull of her coffee, and opened the door. “I’ll just go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you back here in three minutes.” She climbed out and then leaned back in. “Thank you.”

  Casey watched as Olivia disappeared into the hotel, hoping she wasn’t going to regret her offer.

  * * *

  “What the hell is this place?”

  Olivia’s horrified expression made Casey tense. Olivia was reacting in just the way she imagined Hannah would have, if she’d ever tried to bring her to Estelle’s. She looked around and took in the interior as if she were coming here for the first time. The cafe had white tiled walls, chipped Formica tables, and a chest-high counter running along one side of the room. It was made of dark wood and cracked glass and looked a hundred years old. The overall ambience wasn’t great, but she loved the place. It reminded her of her childhood, of the cafés her mom would take them to. And Estelle’s homemade pies were awesome.

  “It looks like it’s closed. It doesn’t have any menus—or any other customers. And the tables…” Olivia ran the tip of her finger across the corner of their table where the wood chip was visible. “Did you bring me here just to laugh at the spoiled LA rich girl?”

  “Not at all. It’s a bit of a hidden gem.” Casey felt a little defensive. “I used to work at a place a few minutes from here, so I came here a lot.” She tried not to let the memories overtake her, wondering why the hell she thought bringing Olivia here was a good idea. “And this place has been here forever. Usually has free tables, always has the same menu. I couldn’t resist coming back. I’m sorry. I know it’s not very Hollywood. It’s not very Portland either, but the food is a thousand times better than the decor. And you’re the one who said you enjoyed exploring new neighborhoods.” There was a challenge for Olivia in her words. “Consider it an authentic London experience. And you’ll love the pie and mash, trust me.”

  “Like I trusted you to choose a museum, and you took me to see a two-hundred-year-old operating theater, with three rooms full of gruesome old surgical instruments that are gonna give me nightmares.” Casey was relieved to hear teasing underneath Olivia’s reply.

  “You loved it. It was fascinating, admit it.”

  Olivia had enjoyed it. She had been full of questions, taken a hundred photos, and Casey practically had to force her to leave so she didn’t faint with hunger. It surprised her. The museum had been a risky choice, but Olivia’s curiosity was appealing.

  “I loved it until you explained what some of the instruments were for.”

  “Yeah, you did go a little green.”

  “How did you know all that super-specific surgical information anyway?”

  “I made most of it up.” Olivia rewarded her honesty with a groan.

  “Yet you expect me to believe you when you tell me this,” Olivia waved a hand around the interior, “is the best café in London?”

  “Not the best café, the best pie and mash.”

  Olivia seemed to relent and leaned back in her seat, no longer looking like she was about to bolt for the door. Again, Casey was surprised by her. She wanted to eat Estelle’s pie, so bringing Olivia here hadn’t been about testing her, but for a famous and presumably very rich actress who probably fine-dined most of the time, Olivia didn’t seem completely out of place.

  “So you just got back from the States. Where’d you go? Was it a vacation?”

&n
bsp; “Being in London is my vacation actually.”

  Olivia looked confused.

  “I live in Portland. I’m just here for a few weeks sorting some stuff out.”

  “You’re working as a driver during your vacation?”

  “I am.” Casey didn’t imagine that Olivia would understand, so she didn’t try to explain. She didn’t want Olivia looking down on her any more than she already did. She waited for the question Olivia looked like she wanted to ask.

  “Well, I guess I lucked out coinciding my visit with yours. I’m not sure about your driving, but you’re a very good tour guide. And you’re very easy to talk to. I don’t usually find it this easy to talk to people I don’t know.” Olivia’s voice was low and confiding, and Casey felt her attraction to Olivia all over again, but she chased it away, annoyed that she was letting herself be affected by Olivia’s compliments. She was an actress and probably a real player.

  “I’m sure it’s just the excitement of a day off in a new city,” Casey said.

  “Hey.” Olivia put a hand on Casey’s arm. “Take the compliment. You’re just good to talk to.” She smiled and Casey was pretty sure her cheeks flushed red. She forced herself to remember that this was the same Olivia who had shouted at her three hours ago.

  “Are you sure I’ll get back to the hotel on time? I have no idea how close to home we are. I’ve given up even trying to figure out which part of London we’re in.”

  “We’re in London Bridge.” Casey looked at her watch. “And don’t worry. It’ll only take about half an hour to get back to the hotel from here. I’m not going to make you late.”

  “Thanks. Though I’m tempted to stay here and see how many of those wonderful sounding British desserts I can stomach.” She pointed at the chalk board on top of the counter. “Spotted dick with custard, jam roly-poly with custard, treacle sponge with custard. I don’t know what they are, but the ‘and custard’ is all I need to know. Maybe I’ll just stay and eat custard—and make myself late—and tell the studio that it was your fault. That you kidnapped me and then tortured me with ancient surgical instruments and British puddings.”

  Olivia’s eyes sparkled, and Casey couldn’t help but enjoy being teased by her. If Olivia was practicing for the part of a charming stranger, she was nailing it.

  “Are you very famous?” Casey wasn’t sure if the question would be considered rude, but she was curious.

  “You really don’t know?”

  Casey shook her head. “I don’t watch TV. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Olivia said with a smile. “It depends what you mean by famous—and how you measure it. Instagram followers, magazine covers, times I get stopped in the street, how many stalkers I have—”

  “You have stalkers?”

  “No, thank God. I just mean it’s hard for me to say. Right now, I’m on a popular show. And they promote it heavily—you’ve seen our schedule—so we get a lot of attention. But maybe a better question is whether I feel famous.”

  “And do you?”

  Casey liked this. They were chatting happily, easily and it was nice getting to know this Olivia. She was much more like the sweet woman she’d met in the sauna.

  “Not at all. I mean, some of it I’ve gotten used to, but inside—where it counts—I’m an imposter. Just some shop worker from Brooklyn who accidentally ended up in LA on this hit show and who’s going to get found out soon.”

  Olivia’s expression got very serious, and Casey wanted to say something meaningful or reassuring. But she couldn’t think of anything.

  “Well, maybe I’ll check out the show. If I get time—”

  “Please don’t.” Olivia’s response was emphatic. “You don’t even watch TV and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like it.”

  Casey wasn’t sure what she’d said wrong, but Olivia now seemed tense.

  The colorful strips of plastic ribbon hanging over the doorway to the kitchen parted and Estelle’s shuffling figure came into view. She headed toward them. She was wearing slippers, as usual. Casey assumed Bruno—her long-suffering husband—was in the kitchen doing the cooking. On Sundays, when the nearby market filled even Café Brunest with hungry diners, Estelle’s niece would help out, but on every other day, the café was quiet enough that it could be managed by just the two of them.

  “Hey, Estelle, how’s it going?” Casey wasn’t sure Estelle would remember her. It’d been over a year since her last visit.

  “Honey, nice to see you.” Her voice carried enthusiasm, but it didn’t mean that Estelle remembered her. She was like that with almost everyone. “How’s America treating you? Did you come home because you missed my pies?”

  Casey couldn’t help but smile. She’d been a regular, and they’d chatted often, but that didn’t mean that Estelle had to remember her. She had a lot of regulars.

  “I’m just visiting, not back for good. But yes, I definitely missed your pies.”

  Estelle waved a hand in Olivia’s direction. “You finally persuaded your girlfriend to come in and try the food. Well, it’s about time I met her.”

  “No, no, it’s not Hannah.” Casey’s response was quick. “This is Olivia. She’s in town for a visit and I’m showing her around. She’s never had one of your pies, and I want her to.”

  Casey felt Estelle’s mistake like a small, shameful stab. Hannah wasn’t ever willing to eat Estelle’s kind of food, but Casey had talked about her often with Estelle. She’d been proud of her once—of her growing success on YouTube and even of her healthy non-pie-eating lifestyle. She’d been such a fool.

  “This one looks too skinny to want to eat pies.” Estelle peered over her glasses at Olivia. “I bet she wants an omelet or salad or something.” She made the word salad sound distasteful.

  Casey held Olivia’s gaze, a dare in her eyes, wanting Olivia to be game enough to try one of the pies. They were obviously unhealthy, and the mash was usually loaded with butter. She was an actress, she probably had to watch her weight.

  “What kind do you have?” There was a reluctance in Olivia’s voice. A reluctance to offend, coupled with a probable reluctance to eat the pie.

  “Steak pudding.”

  Olivia looked confused.

  “It’s a pie but it has a steamed suet pastry instead of short crust. It’s very English and it’ll be good, I promise.” Casey couldn’t help but explain, wanting to reassure. “Trust me.”

  Olivia gazed back at her. The connection, for a moment, was intense, and Casey felt something shift slightly in her core. It wasn’t just that Olivia was beautiful. Sometimes she looked so lost and vulnerable that Casey had this odd urge to protect her. It was ridiculous in the circumstances. She made herself pull her gaze away and back to Estelle.

  “I’ll have that.” Olivia’s voice sounded a little husky. She cleared her throat. “The pudding thing. The steak pudding.” The way her mouth formed the words was delightful to Casey.

  “Me too.” She nodded at Estelle. “And tea.”

  “Water for me,” Olivia said.

  Estelle shuffled away.

  Casey rubbed her temples. She was tired and she was ravenously hungry, but it wasn’t just that. Being here reminded her of her job, of the career she had worked hard for and then lost. And of every horrible thing that had led up to it. She was surprised that her primary emotion about it wasn’t sadness or even anger. It was shame. It had all been her own fault.

  “How long are you here for?” Olivia leaned forward as she asked the question.

  “A month. Maybe less. I have some things I need to do, but I don’t want it to be a long trip. I’d like to get back as soon as I can.”

  “I guess your girlfriend doesn’t want you to stay away too long.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. I mean, she was when I lived here, but not anymore. And she’s not the reason I’m here, not at all. I have ot
her stuff I need to be doing.” Casey didn’t know why she was explaining. She didn’t owe Olivia any information about her personal life. It was like she was reminding herself somehow.

  Neither of them said anything for a minute.

  “Well, our schedule seems so full, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be keeping you very busy. I can’t imagine you’ll get much time off to do your own things. You’re going to need a vacation to recover from your vacation.” Olivia smiled, seeming pleased with her joke.

  Casey didn’t like being reminded of the fact that she needed to work two jobs, or that she was at Olivia’s beck and call. She wasn’t stupid. She hadn’t imagined them having this afternoon had changed the dynamic between them in any way, but she’d wanted to enjoy their meal without having her serfdom thrown in her face again. Clearly, Olivia had a need to keep reminding her of who was in charge.

  “I’ll find time. There’s two of us working the job, and I assume you’ll need to sleep and eat. Even you can’t need a chaperone the whole time.” Casey chose her words carefully, sounding as chippy as she felt. And just like that, the tension was back between them.

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  Casey was pretty sure she did.

  “I just meant they have us doing three or four events a day, and even with another driver to share the work, it’s going to be pretty full on for you. We can’t be late for things and we can’t have missed appointments. The schedule is worked out to the minute.” Olivia looked at her with an expression Casey simply couldn’t read. Was she sitting there and suggesting Casey would be unprofessional enough to miss appointments?

  “I’ll manage. I’ll do my job and I’ll be available when I’m supposed to be. Don’t worry about being kept waiting. I know your time is very precious.” It was a low blow, but Olivia had gotten under her skin.

  Casey wanted the food to arrive and she wanted to eat and leave. She assumed that when they got back to the hotel, Olivia would find her friends and do her event and Casey would get the evening to herself. She was expecting to get a proper two-week schedule from David tonight, and starting tomorrow, she would do only what was absolutely necessary. No impromptu museum trips and no more feeling sorry for Olivia—the TV star she had simply been hired to drive for. If nothing else, Olivia had helpfully just reminded her that this afternoon was valuable time wasted as far as her own objectives for this trip were concerned.