by Celia Loren
I close my door behind me and sink down on the floor for a post-run stretch. I open my legs wide and stretch to the side, trying to reach my toes. Oof. That’s harder than it should be. I try to picture West on the couch last night. Was it even Jenna he was flirting with? I switch to a butterfly stretch. Whenever I start running again, my hips gets super tight. I hear a tentative knock at the door.
“Come in!” I call.
The door opens slightly and Jenna pokes her head in. “Hey,” she says, “I just wanted to say bye and thanks for breakfast.”
“Oh, are you guys taking off?” I ask from the floor.
“No. Well, I am,” she says, “West said he’s really busy today, so he just gave me some cab fare.” I can see the disappointed look on her face as she glances down.
“You know what?” I say, “I needed to run some errands anyway, so I can give you a ride home.”
“You sure?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s no problem,” I assure her, grabbing my purse from the desk. “You should keep that cab fare, too,” I add.
She laughs and follows me back down the hallway to the kitchen. West is still sitting at the table. We breeze past him to the front door.
“See you later!” I call back to him with a wave, happy to note the confused expression on his face.
Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling into the grocery store parking lot in the Tahoe, having dropped off Jenna at her apartment. Turns out she’s a friend of one of the sweet butts. I told her to stop by the Black Rock sometime when I’m working. I grab a cart as I enter the store, glad I’ll be adding to my bank account soon.
As I mentally check off the items I need, I’m distracted by thoughts of West. I can’t help but think about the fact that if I’d slept with him on my first night back, he probably would have been handing me cab fare in the morning, too. Is that really the kind of relationship I want with him? Or the kind of relationship I want in general? Seeing him treat Jenna like that...maybe it would be best for us just to be friends. I’ve fantasized about him for so long, maybe I need to focus on who he actually is, rather than who I imagined him to be.
I’m in the cereal aisle, trying to convince myself to go with the less sugary option, when I hear my name as a question. I turn to see a cute guy carrying a basket walking toward me, an unsure expression on his face that becomes a smile when I turn toward him.
“Wow! It’s great to see you, Olive.” he says. “It’s me, Kyle, from high school, remember?”
“Oh, Kyle, right!” I say, trying to hastily recall any interactions we might have had. Maybe he was in my sophomore physics class?
“What are you doing back in town?” he asks.
“Oh, you know, just moved back. Living with my brother. Just wanted a fresh start, really,” I say vaguely. “What about you? What are you up to?”
“Landscaping, mostly,” he says, “I own my own business now, actually.”
“Wow, that’s great! Good for you,” I smile.
“I’ve actually gotta run,” he says, checking his watch, “I’m giving an estimate this afternoon. But...would you want to get together to catch up sometime? What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow?” Wow, am I really getting asked on a date while still wearing my sweaty workout clothes? “Um, I don’t have plans. Tomorrow works for me.”
We exchange numbers, with my promise to text him my address so he can pick me up. We wave goodbye, and I continue shopping, feeling pretty damn good about myself, thank you very much. Kyle might not be as hot as West, but he’s cute enough, and he seems nice. And not the type to leave a girl with cab fare in the morning. I can’t believe West did that. I mean, I know Jenna shouldn’t have been expecting a relationship to grow out of a one-night-stand with a biker, but a ride home wouldn’t have been too much to ask, I think.
As I check out, I decide to put West out of my mind. It’s going to be difficult living with him, but it has to be done. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have other options. I refuse to be just another one night stand to him. I’ve never been needy with men, and I’m not going to start now.
Chapter Six
West
Olive was so quiet when she came home from the grocery store yesterday. I thought she’d yell, throw something, I don’t know. I mean, bringing that girl home wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made. But Olive just smiled at me. And there was no promise in that smile, either. Nothing suggestive, nothing flirtatious.
Like part of her had closed off to me.
But that’s probably all for the better, right? Stick is my best friend. My brother. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Plus, Olive and I live in the same house. I’ve never had to actually spend time with a girl after sleeping with her, and I don’t think it would be a good idea for me. I’m just not built for it. I start to get that itch afterward, that itch that says push her away. It starts running across my skin, and the only thing that soothes it is distance. Solitude.
Still, that first night, when she gave me a fake name...that was hot. And fuck, she looked so different. Last time I’d seen her, she was cute—in a short, skinny kind of way. Still a girl, really. And I knew I shouldn’t have kissed her that night, either. There was just something so innocent about her. Vulnerable. Standing out there in the desert, trying to act like a grown-up with her Camel Lights. And she still has that quality about her, even though her body is certainly all woman now.
I slide out from under the Triumph Spitfire I’ve been working on. When I’m working on cars, usually my mind feels clear, but not today. I grab a rag and wipe the oil from my hands. This car’s a beauty. The owner, a collector, has been coming to me with all his classics for the last year and a half or so.
It’s six o’clock, now. I’m calling it a day. I glance over at Ratchet, who’s hard at work with a soldering iron, and decide not to bother him. I walk over to my bike, turn the ignition, and push the start button. The bike roars to life beneath me, its comforting vibration spreading through my body. I can feel some of my tension dissipate as I turn out of the clubhouse and head back toward home. Taking the long way home, I’m glad to just feel the wind on my face. When I pull into the driveway, Stick’s Harley and the Tahoe are both already there. I cut the engine and walk into the house.
I walk straight to the fridge and grab a beer, spotting Stick in the backyard, leaning over the grill. I open the sliding door in the living room and join him. He’s got a few steaks and some vegetables going.
“What’s with the produce? Stacy coming over?” I ask.
“Nah, she’s with her mom. How’s that Spitfire coming?”
“Still waiting for a couple parts to come in. Shouldn’t be long.” I look down at my beer, picking off the label at one soggy corner. “That was some speech last night.”
“Come on,” Stick says, “You know some of those guys, they’d fuck anything with a pulse. And Trip, he’d fuck anything without a pulse, too.”
“You don’t mind her living here, though, right?” I ask, laughing, “She’ll start paying rent soon. Not that she has to do that. Think about how many times your family took me in when I was a kid.” I feel a tightening in my chest. I don’t mention the reason why they took me in, that my mom was either missing altogether or too high to make a meal for me.
Stick cuts into one of the steaks, examining its color. “Needs a couple more minutes,” he decides, and reopens the sliding door. I follow him back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter.
I hear a door open down the hallway and footsteps along the carpet. Olive appears in the doorway, and I stand up straight as she enters. She looks hot, wearing a light blue dress with thin straps, showing just enough skin. She looks surprised to see both of us staring back at her.
“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” she asks, fastening on some small earrings.
“Making dinner,” Stick answers. “What are you all dressed up for?” he asks with a frown.
“Going out,” s
he replies reluctantly. “I have a date.”
That takes me by surprise. Don’t know why—she’s obviously an attractive, intelligent woman. It’s just...I guess she’s still Tiny to me, even after the other night.
“Oh, really? Anyone I know?” Stick asks, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Nope. Well, probably not. We did go to high school together. His name’s Kyle.”
“Kyle? Doesn’t ring a bell. He picking you up?” Stick grills her.
I quietly take a sip of my beer. I know I don’t have any say in what Olive does, but I don’t like the idea of her going out on a date. I wouldn’t call it jealousy or anything, just a certain tension creeping into me.
“Yup,” Olive answers, clearly not wanting her brother to get involved. Stick has always been crazy overprotective of her. I get it—their dad was a functioning alcoholic who didn’t have much time for his daughter. Stick took on a lot at a young age, becoming the man of the house, always hiding it behind his joker personality.
“I’d love to meet him,” Stick says with a smile.
“You know, we have a dinner reservation, so I don’t think there’s gonna be time,” Olive smiles back. Her phone buzzes in her bag. She reaches in and looks at the text, grinning a little at it. The kind of grin she used to flash at me.
“Fine,” Stick says, annoyed. “I’ve gotta get the steaks.” He crosses back into the living room and then outside, sliding the door shut behind him.
Olive replaces her phone in her bag and takes a step toward the front door. She looks so pretty and hopeful. I quickly close the distance between us, looking down at her. She looks back up at me, and I actually see defiance in her eyes. I spot an eyelash resting on her cheek and reach up to gently remove it. My large fingers dwarf her face, and I have to concentrate to grab the single lash. I can feel her studying my face.
“You look beautiful,” I murmur.
A look of vulnerability crosses her features, followed immediately by a flash of anger. She opens her mouth to say something, but her phone buzzes. She glances at her bag, and when she looks back up at me, the distance is back in her eyes.
“I’ve gotta go. Enjoy the steaks,” she says shortly, stepping around me. I hear the front door close behind her with a snap.
Stick and I eat the steaks while we watch a UFC match on TV. He eventually gets up and goes to his room to call Stacy. I give him a hard time about that relationship, but it’s good for him. Stacy’s sweet and quiet, but I’ve also seen her give him a piece of her mind. Which is good, because sometimes Stick’s mouth gets him into trouble.
I flip through the channels. There’s really nothing on, and I know that what I’m really doing is waiting for Olive to come home. Finally, just before midnight, I hear a car pull up outside the house. I listen for the front door to open, but there’s only silence. I stand up and walk quietly to the living room window and pull the shade aside slightly.
There’s Olive, kissing this guy Kyle outside his car, her dress glowing in the light spilling out from the house. Goddammit. The sensation of her soft lips pressing against mine comes back to me, and I frown. It’s not like me to get possessive of the girls I’ve hooked up with. I watch his arm wrap more tightly around the small of her back, and have to turn away.
I let the blinds swing shut and walk back to the couch and turn the volume on the TV up a few notches, trying to focus on this episode of River Monsters. A couple minutes later, the front door opens and Olive walks in. I keep my eyes trained on the screen.
“Hey,” she says.
“Oh, hey, Tiny,” I respond, as though I’ve just noticed her arrival. She sinks down on the other end of the couch and kicks off her heels. “Have fun?” I ask.
“Yeah, it was nice,” she replies evenly. I finally turn to her, a smirk on my face.
“Nice?” I scoff.
“Yeah, nice,” she repeats, looking at the TV.
“That kiss looked a little more than nice,” I reply before I can stop myself.
I watch Olive’s head tilt pensively to the side. Then she stands, bending over to take off her shoes. She stands and walks around the couch toward the bedroom hallway, crossing out of my sight, but I hear her turn and come back toward me. She leans over the couch, resting her arms on its back, her elbow just grazing my shoulder. I cock my head slightly my her, but don’t look at her.
“You know what’s funny? You can’t see the curb from here,” she points out, glancing at the living room window with its closed shade. I shift a little in my seat. She’s got me now.
“You been watching me, West?” she whispers. I feel her hot breath on my ear, sending a rush straight to my crotch. Without waiting for a response, I hear her pad softly back through the kitchen. Her bedroom door closes with a soft click.
She is definitely not like any girl I’ve ever been with. I mean, at breakfast this morning with her and Jenna, there was no contest. And then she had to go and be nice and give that girl a ride home. She keeps surprising me. It’s taking everything in my power not to head into her bedroom right now and tear that dress off of her body. I saw what’s underneath in the bathroom the other day. And goddamn, the things I would do to a body like that...
Chapter Seven
Olive
I think I’m impressing Franchise with my bartending skills, though that has less to do with my talent and more to do with his clientele’s preference for beer and straight liquor. The most complicated order I’ve had all night was when Stick ordered a double.
The Widowmakers brothers have all been buying me shots, but after my third I started spitting them back into the empty beer bottle that I’m pretending to use as a chaser. It’s a trick I learned back in New Hampshire. There’s only been one new thing to learn: Franchise seems to have a running list in his head of who gets to drink free, who can keep a tab, and who must always pay cash immediately. It’s a long list, and seems to change based on his mood.
I glance up and down the bar. For the moment, no one’s trying to engage me in conversation, so I just clean some glasses. I spot a familiar face at the end nearer the entrance and walk down.
“Hey, Stacy!” I smile.
“Hey!” she waves back. “Oh, I love your top!”
“Thanks! It’s one of my only black shirts, to be honest,” I tell her. “Hey, want to go shopping sometime this week? It would be nice to have a few options.”
“Yes, definitely!” she says, “Boulevard Mall has some good shops, we should go there together!”
“Awesome! Now, what can I get for you?” I ask. “Give me a little challenge.”
“Oh god, I don’t know...a cosmo?”
“One cosmo, coming up,” I say, grabbing the house vodka and a shaker. Stacy glances toward the other end of the bar.
“Just so you know, Franchise is watching you and smiling,” she tells me.
“Yeah? Really?” I ask, straining the drink into a martini glass and curling a lemon twist onto the top.
“Now he’s nodding. He looks happy,” Stacy goes on.
“Are you fucking with me right now?” I ask her.
“No, really!” she insists.
I glance over at Franchise, who is indeed looking at me with a little grin. I slide the drink over to Stacy, who hands me a ten. I grab her change at the register and hand it back over.
“You look like a total pro,” she says.
“Thanks!” I reply, “I did used to be a cocktail waitress.”
“I don’t think I could do that!” she says, sipping her pink drink. “Weren’t guys always hitting on you?”
“Well, sometimes,” I shrug, “But in general the job suits me. I like talking to people, you know?”
“Oh, there’s Stick!” she says brightly, “I’ll be right back.” She leaves to go say hi to my brother at the pool table.
Stacy was right to ask about getting hit on. Sometimes the constant attention as a cocktail waitress did get annoying, but I really did handle it okay. Except for with Richard, of c
ourse, but that was a whole different story. He’d seemed so normal when we had first met at the bar. Nice, funny. And he was a cop, for christ’s sake. I’d thought I was being extra safe by going out with him.
And the first couple months had really been great. He really liked to spoil me, take me to nice restaurants, open doors for me, send me flowers for no reason. And the sex, that had been really great too. A little heavy on the bondage, but hey, I like that now and then. The first warning hadn’t come until he showed up after my shift at the bar, and threatened my boss. I was almost fired.
Then, when I tried to pull away, dial back the intensity a little, that’s when it got bad. The sex veered into disturbing territory, the constant phone calls and texts started. I broke up with him in a public place because I thought it would be the safe thing to do. But then he started following me, leaving crazy messages on my phone. He would show up at my bar every night and sit in the corner, staring at me. My boss was too scared to kick him out, so I finally called his partner, Stan. The bar visits stopped, but he’d follow me everywhere else. I couldn’t date, I couldn’t go anywhere.
A flash of movement at the other end of the bar catches my attention. That tall, hippie-looking guy, Tree, is signaling for me. He’s standing with someone who has his back toward me. By the size of that person, it can only be West. I walk over to him and lean forward on the bar.
“Hey, Tree,” I say, “What can I get for you?”
“She remembered my name, now isn’t that nice,” he says with a smile to West.
“Oh, I could never forget you, Tree,” I say with a grin. He has such an easygoing way about him.
“Two Coors,” Tree says.
I quickly pull two from the tap and slide them over to him. I know Tree and West both drink free.
“So, you spoken for yet?” Tree asks.
“Spoken for?” I say, cocking my head.
