by M. H. Soars
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” he says.
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her at first.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I don’t think she was offended. She did mention she changed a lot since the time you met her.”
“Her hair mostly. She used to be blonde.” Allan pauses for a moment and I glance at his profile. I sense he has more to say. “Did she ever tell you what she did for me?”
“No. Sticks doesn’t talk much about her life.”
“I was going through a terrible phase. My stepfather was a jerk and his idea of family time was to constantly criticize me. I was fifteen when Sticks caught me trying to drink an entire bottle of whiskey. I think she was only thirteen back then, a wisp of a girl. She didn’t care I was the son of a celebrity, she wasn’t intimidated by me. She told me flat out how stupid I was for drowning my sorrows with alcohol. I couldn’t believe her gumption. She then convinced me that playing the drums was a better way to forget whatever problems I had. She tried to teach me how to play that night. It was one of the best evenings I spent in that house.”
“Did you only hang out once?”
“Yes. I flew back to Nashville the next day and the following year she wasn’t there.”
Allan doesn’t elaborate and I don’t ask. His face is serious now and I know when to drop a subject.
We are quiet for ten more minutes or so before Allan speaks again. “Do you think you will be able to record your duet with Oliver today?”
My spine goes taut as my heart does a painful lurch forward. I was purposely shoving that problem aside and trying not to obsess about it too much. Our duet song is filled with angst and feelings. It demands to be sung with our entire hearts in it.
“I’ll try my best.”
“That song is a winner, Saylor. It has the potential to take you to the top quicker than you can imagine.”
I take a deep breath and try to find the strength to forgive Oliver, even if he hasn’t asked for it. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t have time to be mad at him. Holding grudges is for those without a quickly approaching expiration date.
Oliver never shows up and Allan can’t get a hold of him. My good will toward the man vanishes. I’m tired, cranky, and we wasted hours waiting for the douche canoe to grace us with his presence. Allan decides to call it a day just before Charlotte comes into the studio. I don’t like the look on her face.
“Is Oliver here?” She seems flustered as her gaze skates around.
“No. He never showed up,” Allan replies.
“Shit.”
“What’s going on, Charlotte?”
“Today is not a good day for Ollie.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She turns to me and her eyes soften a bit. “I shouldn’t be the one to tell you, but hell. I’m worried about him.”
“You’re freaking me out. Spill it already,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Today would be our brother Harry’s nineteenth birthday. He died when he was six years old. Ollie blames himself for it and he never handles this date well. Since you two are still at odds, I know this year will be especially bad.”
I don’t think Charlotte is trying to make me feel guilty, but the feeling takes hold all the same. “What can I do to help?”
“We need to find him. Any idea where he could be?”
I shake my head, unable to voice out loud I have no idea of Oliver’s whereabouts.
“I’ll call all his party friends. I know it’s a long shot, but I would check the bars and pubs in the area as well.”
I make a beeline for my purse on a table nearby. “I’ll do it. Have you talked to Sebastian?”
“He’s next on my list.”
I head out of the studio without saying goodbye to the girls. Worry for Oliver gives me a bout of energy and the previous fatigue is forgotten. My heart is lodged in my throat and my mind is a mess. Why did he never me tell about his brother?
I have no clue where he could be. I don’t know any of his favorite spots and what does that tell me about our relationship? I love a man I don’t even know. The only place I can think of is the little café he brought me to once, but I doubt he will be there right now. They don’t serve alcohol. Instead, I head to Hermosa’s Beach main hub by the shore where the majority of bars are concentrated. It’s happy hour and the plaza is packed. I’m going on blind hope Oliver is in one of those bars. If he decided to party in L.A., I will never find him.
My feet drag me toward Closing Time. It’s not the wildest place in town, but it serves the best beer. Plus, there’s a weird tug in my chest, pulling me toward Rori’s establishment. I venture in and my heart sinks. The place is full to capacity. My eyes do a quick scan of the room before I search for Rori behind the bar. He’s not there. Damn it. I could have used his help.
I realize I’m blocking the entrance when someone touches my shoulder. I walk to the side to allow the couple to enter. You won’t find anything if you don’t start to look, Saylor. I force myself to walk between the tables. Oliver won’t be sitting with a large group of people, maybe he’ll be in a secluded corner with a bimbo on his lap. The bitter thought makes my heart clench painfully in my chest. Oliver wouldn’t do that, would he? Ugh! Why am I having these insecure thoughts?
But the fear that I will find Oliver with another woman is real. It makes my ears ring and my heart rate to spike up in jealousy. I head toward the back of the room where there are few booths that offer more privacy. The occupant of one of them is being blocked by the waitress, who’s leaning forward for no good reason, unless she wants to show whoever is sitting there a clear view of her cleavage.
She steps back and turns, and I see a hunched figure with a baseball cap on sitting at the table. His head is dipped low and in front of him there’s a glass, and a half empty bottle of whiskey. I quicken my steps and reach the table before the waitress has the chance to leave. She narrows her eyes at me.
“He doesn’t want to be bothered,” she says with a tone of possession. I don’t know her. She must be new.
“Then fucking leave already,” I say.
Her jaw drops at the same time her eyes flash with fury. I’m hoping this tramp will say something out of line so I can punch her in the face. I’m dying for a good old cat fight if only to distract me from the turmoil in my head and heart. But Oliver raises his head and says, “Saylor?”
The woman whips her face in his direction. “Do you know her?”
Her incredulous tone almost makes me laugh. “I’m his girlfriend. Now move along.”
My reply doesn’t please her one bit. When Oliver doesn’t deny my claim, she has no choice but to put her tail between her legs and leave.
“How did you find me?” Oliver asks, bringing my attention back to him. I slide into the booth, but keep a good distance between us.
“You missed your appointment. We’re supposed to record our duet today.”
Oliver shrugs and pours himself another dose of whiskey. “I didn’t think you would want to sing anything with me.” He throws his head back and drinks the shot in one single gulp.
“I know how to separate things.”
Oliver looks at me, his eyes bloodshot and so fucking sad. “Well, I don’t.”
Okay, I’m not going anywhere here, so might as well bring the real problem to the surface. “I know what date it is today. Charlotte filled me in.”
A myriad of emotions flashes in his eyes. “She had no right.”
“Why not? Wasn’t Harry her brother, too?”
Oliver grinds his jaw and looks down at his empty glass. “She didn’t kill him.” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear it.
I reach out and touch his hand. My heart is breaking for him. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to carry that kind of guilt. It makes my own turmoil pale in comparison. “And what makes you think you did?”
He glances at me again and the sadness I read on
his expression leaves me raw. It makes me want to hold him tight and never let go.
“I was the one who told him to get lost. He’s dead because I was too embarrassed to be around him and I sent him away.”
“You were a child.”
“It doesn’t matter!” He slams his open palm against the wooden table, rattling the empty glass and the bottle. “My age at the time doesn’t change the fact if weren’t for me, he would still be alive.”
I pull back and glare at him. It’s obvious that Oliver has taken more than just alcohol to dull his pain. I knew he used recreational drugs in the past, but whether for my sake or not, he toned his nasty habit down around me.
“So you’ve decided to join him now?” I say, ignoring how hypocritical my statement is.
He rolls his eyes and pours another dose of whiskey into his glass. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“You’re the one moping in a dark corner of a pub with a bottle of whiskey, and you call me dramatic?”
“Why are you here, Saylor? I thought you were done with me.”
His question takes me by surprise. “You thought we were through?”
“Isn’t that your MO? Walk away without ending things properly?” He raises an eyebrow at me while his lips curl into an ugly grin.
His words feel like a punch to my stomach and I can’t fault him for thinking like that.
“I was mad at you. I still am. You never apologized for invading my privacy.”
“You’re not going to get an apology. I’m not sorry for what I did. I was trying to protect you. I won’t let another person I love die without doing anything to prevent it.”
Go ahead, Oliver, keep striking at my heart. Not that he has any idea how his words are gutting me right now.
“And demanding to know what I was doing with Derek is protecting my life how?”
“I was jealous. That wanker almost ruined my best mate’s wedding.”
“Oh my God. Get over it. Derek is a friend.” I grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it to my lips, taking large sips from it.
“Whoa, what are you doing?”
I don’t stop until the alcohol begins to work and my body relaxes. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and place the bottle down with a resounding thud. “I need alcohol if I’m to sit here and listen to you without smacking you upside the head.”
His jaw drops before his eyes turn to slits. “Do you love me?”
“What kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?”
“Stop evading and answer the question, Saylor. Do you love me or not?”
“Yes. I love you, you idiot.”
He slides closer until his leg touches mine. His arm snakes around my waist, trapping me against his body as his face stops inches from mine. “Good, because I’m about to fuck your mouth.”
He doesn’t wait for my response and crushes his lips against mine, his whiskey flavored tongue prying my mouth open almost cruelly. I don’t offer resistance. Instead, I give back to him in the same savage manner, biting his lower lip to show Oliver he’s not in total control here. His free hand finds its way between my legs, the skirt I’m wearing offering no barrier against his probing fingers. He pushes my panties out of the way and inserts two fingers inside my already soaked pussy. I don’t care we are in a crowed pub, that anyone looking in our direction will see Oliver and me in a full-on foreplay session. I didn’t know how starved I was for this infuriating man until I tasted him again.
The sound of glass shattering nearby manages to break through my lust infused brain and I pull away.
“We can’t do this here. Someone might see us.”
“Sugar, I don’t give a damn.” He leans closer again but I place both hands against his chest and push him back.
“I do.” I grab his wrist and stop his fingers from fucking me. My core is throbbing and I’m not far away from a shattering orgasm, but I don’t want it to happen here, in public. That would cheapen the moment. I slide away from him and try to fix my skirt in the process.
“Are you leaving me?” Oliver’s expression is pitiful to the point of being comical.
“No, I’m taking you away.” I pull my wallet out of my purse and grab all the cash I have in it, dropping it on the table for effect. I hope it’s enough to cover Oliver’s tab. “Come on. Time is wasting.”
I turn and begin to walk away, fighting not to look back to see if Oliver is following me. I don’t know what will be my next move if he decides to stay. Dragging him out by his short hair is not something I want to do. But he does follow me and wraps his arm around my waist in a possessive way, making it hard to walk between the tables.
Once outside the crowded pub, I pry Oliver’s arm from around me and hold his hand instead, lacing our fingers together. He stares at our fused hands for one second before looking up again. I know he wants to pull me closer for a kiss. I would have let him do it if I didn’t have other ideas. I tug at his hand. “Come. There’s a place I want to show you.”
Twenty-Five
SAYLOR
I drive to a spot I haven’t been to since I was a happy teen, aka, before the attack. It’s already past nine and Littleton’s most famous antique store is closed. I park in front of the darkened building and get out of the vehicle. The street is deserted at this hour—the store is off Littleton’s main commercial track.
“Where are we?” Oliver stares at the closed shop before his eyes do a quick perimeter check of the area.
“Follow me.”
I walk past the front door and turn the corner onto a one-way street. Blueberries’ Antiques looks small at first, but once you walk around the building and reach the back, you can see the store’s big open lot filled with treasures to be discovered. A wired fence keeps intruders out, or at least tries to. It never deterred me. I’m happy to see that the big tree against the barrier is still there. It has grown taller since the last time I was here but it’s still climbable.
I come closer and touch the bark with my open palm. “Hello, old friend.”
“You know you are talking to a tree, right?”
I look over my shoulder. “Marvin and I go way back.”
“It has a name?” Oliver shakes his head and grins. “Of course it does.”
He moves closer and even in the darkness, I can read Oliver’s intentions in his eyes. I put my hands up. “I didn’t bring you here so you could fuck me against a tree in the middle of the street.”
Oliver takes advantage that my back is almost flush against the tree trunk, places his hands on each side of my head, and leans forward, caging me in. “Don’t tell me the idea doesn’t make your pussy soaking wet for me.”
“Let me make this very clear to you. We’re not fucking in public.”
Oliver looks left and right. “There’s no one around.”
I give him a light shove. “Stop being a perv and help me climb up.”
He pouts, making him look adorable, but I don’t act on the impulse to kiss him. That would only lead to trouble. Oliver finally decides to get with the program, and gives me a boost so I can reach the lower branch of the tree. From there, it’s easy to make progress up.
“So, you don’t want to make sweet love to me in public but you want to commit a crime instead.”
“Shh, stop talking and follow me.”
Perched on the second highest branch, I can reach the top of the fence easily. I swing one leg over, holding onto it, then the other follows, before I let go and fall to the other side in a crouch. Oliver is still standing frozen next to Marvin.
“What are you waiting for? Can’t climb a tree?”
“You’re mental, you know that?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest and smirk. “Oh my, it looks like someone is scared.”
He rolls his eyes. “Please.”
Oliver grabs the branch I had been too short to reach without assistance, and brings his lean body up. With the grace of a cat, he works his way up and jumps the fence. It only takes him a
few seconds.
He drops in front of me with an eat-shit grin on his face. “You were saying?”
“Show off.” I turn on my heel and walk away. He follows me.
“So, what’s this place?”
“If you haven’t guessed it by now, this is an antique and second-hand shop.”
“It looks like a place where old furniture comes to die. I only see junk.”
I ignore his jab and keep walking between the stacked pieces of patio furniture and other outdoor things that have seen better days.
“I used to come here all the time when I was younger. My mother and I loved to find hidden gems for our DIY projects. I pretended this back lot was an island filled with treasure chests, waiting for me to find them. This wreckage is what inspired the name of the band.”
Oliver keeps following me without saying much. He stops from time to time to inspect something that catches his eye, but I keep on walking until I find the old and rusty swing I was hoping would still be here. It’s in the same spot as before, and does it make me weird that I get overly emotional over such an ugly thing? It’s in worse condition than I remember. One of the swing chains is broken and the seat is barely hanging there, dangling in an angle, waiting for death. Just like me. I touch the remaining chain and give it a pull. It creaks, but stays strong. This one is not ready to give up yet. I can’t help but think that this is a sign somehow.
I feel a warm touch on my shoulder and look over at the man behind me. I didn’t even hear him approach.
“Why did you bring me here, sugar?” His voice is softer, almost a whisper.
“Today, when Charlotte came looking for you, I realized that I know nothing about you. What are your likes and dislikes? What are your favorite places to hang out? I don’t even know what your favorite food is. And then it occurred to me you also don’t know much about me.” I pause and let my gaze take in the darkened lot. “So I figured, I should show you this place.”
Oliver wraps his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind, and rests his chin on my shoulder. “I love football, the original kind. I hate the feel of wet sand under my feet, and my favorite place to hang out is anywhere I can see the open sky.”
