by Marchman, AC
“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Have a seat and join us…” Livey offered, obviously fishing for a name.
“Donovan. Donovan Callahan. Thank you,” he says, holding out a chair for me. I sit and look at my friends, each with a little pink in her face. Good grief, does he have this effect on everyone?
Then I realize I just learned his last name, and I know exactly who he is.
“Oh my God!” Livey blurts out, her eyes like a deer in the headlights. “You’re Donovan Callahan!
That’s crazy!”
“Well, yeah. We already established that,” Donovan says, that cocky ass smirk creeps across his full lips. My mouth hangs open, mindlessly gawking at him.
“You dated that reality star, Claire Dubois!” Livey exclaims. My best friend keeps up to date on the stars of her favorite reality show, Atlanta Society. I remember Donovan from her gossip magazines. Holy crap.
I remember that day. I was on the floor trying to do my Biology homework, and Livey was avoiding hers. She was reading one of her magazines and told me to take a look at the article she was reading. I rolled my eyes, but decided to humor her. Livey handed me the magazine and said, “Check out this hottie! He’s dating that bitch, Claire Dubois.” Claire Dubois was “the queen bitch” on the show. She would dig her claws into every woman she met, and Livey would tell me about the cat fights these “ladies” got into. I took a look at the picture and saw a very attractive couple. The caption read, “Claire Dubois steps out with a handsome medical student, Donovan Callahan. When questioned how they met, the couple kept mum on the subject. Claire told us, ‘I get what I want, end of story.’ She sure is feisty! Lets hope her boy toy can handle her!”
The picture was taken on the red carpet in Hollywood, something about a premier of a new movie, I don’t remember. I do remember Donovan and Claire. Claire wore a form fitting floor length red dress. The neckline plunged almost to her navel with a slit up the side, exposing her toned legs. Her hair was cut into a platinum blonde bob, and her makeup was perfect. Her eyes were a fierce shade of brown. She looked as if everyone’s head would turn when she walked in a room. Donovan was wearing a black tux and a silver tie. His hair was shorter back then. He was downright sexy.
I continued to read that article. “Claire Dubois and boy toy, Donovan Callahan, stepped out as a couple last month. That in itself would be fine, but Claire’s husband, Frank Dubois, the successful TV producer, was found dead in their Atlanta home just two months ago. The cause of death is still being determined by the medical examiner’s office. Many people think that it is too soon for Claire to start dating, especially a man who is ten years younger than she is. The rumors continue to swirl around Claire, asking if she had something to do with Frank Dubois’ death. Only time will tell.”
Donovan shifts in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Yeah, that was a long time ago. I was young, stupid, and blinded by a little bit of fame.”
“I read they convicted her of killing her husband, like, almost three years ago,” Livey continues on her rambling. I wish she would stop, because this is becoming a very tense conversation.
I see Donovan’s face turning red, and he’s shaking his foot on the ground. Still, Livey carries on. “The prosecutors said the evidence pointed to her. I read that they even got the guy who sold her the arsenic to testify! And the medical examiner got paid a million dollars to “lose the findings of the autopsy.” I heard he got his license taken away and is still sitting in jail.” I shoot her a look, and she finally gets the point. I love that girl, but sometimes she doesn’t know when to stop.
I hear Donovan sigh. “Yes, I know what happened in the trial. I was there, too.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“Donovan, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Livey says, with her eyes downcast, like she was being punished. She knows she crossed the line with him, and apparently, it’s a very touchy subject for him to hear, let alone discuss.
Donovan looks at me, his gaze impassive. “I’m going to get another beer, would you ladies like another drink?” he asks.
“No thanks. I still have half of my drink left,” I tell him. My friends just shake their heads, “No,” the moment being too awkward to speak. He nods, stands, and makes his way back to the bar, hopefully not to the busty redhead. My eyes follow him until he’s lost in the crowd of people.
I turn toward Livey, who is still embarrassed about her little episode. “I’m so sorry, Allie. I’m pretty buzzed, and I just kept rambling. I hope he’s not too mad at me,” Livey gives me her puppy dog eyes.
My anger fades; I know she didn’t meant it. “Please, Livey, don’t bring up Claire’s name again.”
Livey crosses her heart and says, “I promise.”
“Good, thank you,” I reach for my drink and pound it down my throat. I have to admit that I’m kind of drunk, too. I’m a much quieter drunk than Livey is. She will talk to almost anyone, where as I sit back and watch people. My friend scoots over to the chair where Donovan was sitting and hugs me. I squeeze her back. She tells me, “You know, he is the hottest guy in this place tonight, and you got to kiss him!”
I giggle. “Yeah, he’s really hot, and he is a pretty great kisser,” I say as I lean my head on top of her head. Cindy and Jasmine see some more of their friends and leave the table to speak to them. They both touch my shoulder as they walk by, letting me know they feel sorry for me. Livey gives me a kiss on the check and stands. “I’ll leave you two alone for a little while.
Besides, I wanna find the guy I was dancing with earlier. He’s the second hottest guy in this place tonight.” She winks at me as she turns on her heel. I let out a heavy sigh. I really hope that doesn’t deter Donovan from getting to know me better.
My mind is reeling by the time Donovan comes back to the table. He’s carrying his bottle of beer and a plate of nachos. “I figured you might want something to eat; hope you like lots of fattening cheese and chili.” He grins at me. I notice his foul mood is gone. Maybe it’s because Livey isn’t at the table.
I beam back at him, “Yes, I love nachos! Good choice!”
He sits in the chair beside me and puts the plate down. “Dig in!” He picks up a tortilla chip, dripping with cheese and pops it in his mouth. How can he make something simple like eating, into something so damn sexy. I realize I’m famished, so I help myself. We sit, stuffing our faces, and I find myself enjoying this comfortable silence with Donovan. Even though the music is still blaring all around us, it’s like we are in our own private bubble made for two.
“You know, I totally get why your friend brought up Claire. A lot of people still do. It’s just that I get really irritated by even her name,” Donovan says as he picks up another chip.
“Livey is really great. It’s just that sometimes her brain doesn’t filter what comes out of her mouth,” I blush, still embarrassed about the whole conversation. “I’m sure it’s a touchy subject.”
I remember reading on Access Atlanta about the trial and how dramatized it was. There were stories of affairs, payoffs, and then of course, there was Donovan. The prosecution tried to blame him for the murder of Frank Dubois, but they had absolutely no evidence against him.
The poor guy. There were no cameras allowed in the courtroom, so the court had sketch artists come in. They did an amazing job capturing Claire Dubois’ pretty face, contorted by anger and guilt. I watched Atlanta Society one time, and I was not impressed by her acting skills.
I remember seeing the pictures of Donovan, his baby blue eyes red rimmed from tears. His expression was filled with sadness as he spoke of the relationship with his much older mistress.
That look haunted me for a few days. My heart broke for him then, like it does now.
I watch this sexy man, sitting here with me and wonder what it’s like inside his head. Does he think about Claire often or not at all? Part of me wants to know the answer, but the reasonable side says I should wait to question him about that. I haven�
��t known him long enough to ask.
Donovan stops eating and shifts his eyes towards me. “Enjoying yourself?” He curls his lips into a sideways grin. He looks so carefree at the moment. I want to keep that going. I pucker my lips at him, and it makes his smile widen.
“So, you’re a doctor, huh? Is that why you were at school today?” I ask, with my chin in my hands, gazing at him.
Donovan smiles, “Well, I’m a second year resident. I’m doing my residency in family medicine at the Emory Clinic. I was there to speak to one of my old professors about a case I’m working on.”
He takes a swig of his beer. “What about you? What do you want to do?”
The question sounds so innocent, but if I’m not mistaken, there are sexual undertones to it. I squirm in my seat. I glance at this beautiful man and notice his eyes are burning, the blue taking on an almost dangerous look to them. Damn, that’s hot. I recover and answer, “I want to work with heart patients. It’s a passion of mine. The heart is so complicated, and it also hits home,” I trail off, thinking of my dad.
Donovan’s look softens. “I think that’s great. You know, I can help you study. I’ve already done the medical school thing. I might have a few tricks under my belt that could help you.” My heart flutters at the thought. This man, who is the epitome of sexiness, wants to be my study partner?
Oh, good Lord, help me.
“Sure, that would be great,” I squeak, as I try to maintain my composure. “I could really use the advice.”
He smirks, surely noticing the ridiculous grin on my face. “Here’s my cell phone number,” He writes the digits on the back of a napkin. “Sorry, I don’t have anything else to write on,” he comments, with a delicious smile on his lips. My breath stops for a second. He radiates sex appeal. How I wish those lips were on me, everywhere. Donovan hands me his number. When I go to take it from him, he grabs the back of my head gently and pulls me in so we are nose to nose. “May I?” he asks in a whisper that’s so deep and low, it immediately excites me. Before I have time to even think about it, I press my lips to his. This time I possess his mouth as my own, greedily taking what I want to be mine.
I forget where I am. I am so completely lost in Donovan’s presence. As our kiss intensifies, the world seems to fall away. I feel nothing but him. His hands grasp my face as we slide our tongues back and forth between our mouths. All of these feelings are alien to me, but I love it.
Donovan pulls away slightly and breathes, “I am losing complete control of myself around you. I can’t help it.”
“Then don’t,” I whisper as I open my eyes. He stares at me, blue eyes seductive through long, dark lashes.
“You forget where we are. I know, I did too,” Donovan says as he sits back. “There’s a time and place for things like that.”
My whole body tingles, and I can’t help but feel joyful at the thought. I’ve never thought about a guy this way, so fast. It’s so sudden, but it feels so damn right. “But don’t become a one night stand,” I tell myself.
“Look, I’d like to take you out, but not somewhere like this,” Donovan waves his hand around the bar. I look and see most of the people here are drunk college kids, screaming and laughing way too loud.
“You mean, right now?” I ask, feeling hopeful. Even though it’s stifling in this bar, chills run through me and the goosebumps return.
“Well, it’s late right now, baby doll. We can’t go out to eat, but maybe we could go get some coffee or something?” Donovan asks, hinting with his eyes and voice.
Baby doll? I like it. Only a Southern man could get away with that term of endearment, especially if that Southern man is Donovan. “Whatever the good doctor thinks is okay with me,” I beam at him. Wow, I went from feeling like a complete idiot by knocking Donovan down to completely mesmerized by him.
Donovan stands and holds his hand out for me. “You should at least tell your friends we are leaving. I’ll wait here for you.” I place my hand into his, and he helps me up. Donovan pulls his hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles lightly. I relish his touch. It’s quickly becoming a drug that I could become addicted to. It makes my heart race and my blood boil. I stand and turn to find my friends.
As I spot Lively, the angry linebacker steps in front of me. My heart drops to my stomach and my eyes widen in alarm. I instantly take a step backwards. “Hello there, sugar,” he slurs, his horrible breath reeks of beer. He steps closer to me and grabs my arm. I try to jerk away, but he is way too strong. “You’ve been prancing around here, showing your sweet ass all night to me.” Oh, shit, he’s delusional. “Now I want what’s mine, and you’re going to give it to me.” The linebacker tries to hike up my dress and exposes my panties. I scream, “Get the fuck off me!!”
My words make it worse.
“Oh, baby. That makes me so horny when you struggle.” The vile man starts to slobber on my neck and move his other hand up my thigh. I have enough strength to push his hand away. As I haul my hand up to slap him, I see Donovan out of the corner of my eye. It happens so fast.
Donovan clenches his fist and makes direct contact with his nose. The linebacker releases me and screeches. His huge hands are now holding back spewing blood from his broken nose. My eyes are huge and tears start to pool in them as I feel Donovan grab my shoulders.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Donovan asks with urgency. I shake my head and bury my face into his chest. Then the sobs start to come, and I can’t control them. Donovan holds me and strokes my hair on the back of my head. “It’s alright. I’m here,” he says as he soothingly rocks me back and forth.
Livey comes out of nowhere and spins me out of Donovan’s arms. “Did he touch you? What the hell happened?” she asks, her voice laced with concern and anger. A crowd has formed around us. I look over towards the linebacker, who being forcefully directed out by the bouncers, blood covering his face and hands.
“That asshole came on to me, but Donovan punched him out of nowhere,” I gasp for breaths in between sobs. Donovan wraps his toned arm around my shoulder. My body is racked with the crying. He strokes his hand down my arm, and I suddenly feel safe again. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my forehead against his chest. I feel his rapid heartbeat on my temple.
“Do you want us to call the police, ma’am?” the manager says as she walks up to us. “That asshole is always causing problems.” The stocky brunette looks at me with pity. Her Peachtree Tavern t-shirt is untucked, and she has on khaki cargo pants. Her face looks sullen, like a woman you wouldn’t want to mess with. She looks so gruff, but her voice is sincere.
“No, I just want to leave,” I mumble, mortified that this has caused such a scene. Donovan still has his protective grip on me while Livey, Cindy, and Jasmine crowd around me.
“Ma’am, I hope you are okay. Look, if you change your mind, you can call me. I’ll give the cops my statement.” The manager, whose nametag says Jessie, takes my hand and pats it. “Thank you,” is all I can muster at this point. My sobs have stopped, but they have left me spent. Livey grabs my purse off the ground and hands it to me while the manager breaks up the crowd.
“Baby girl, we should get you home,’ Livey says. I glance up at Donovan, whose anger is still palpable on his lovely face. He runs his free hand through his hair while the other still rests on my shoulder. His grey shirt is sweat stained, and he looks so angry.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Livey,” my voice barely a whisper. I don’t want to end my evening with Donovan, but it looks like I may have to take a rain check on the coffee.
“Did you want me to drive you home?” Donovan asks. “I brought my car. I really don’t mind. In fact, I want to.”
I glance towards my friends. “Yeah, I’m going to let Donovan drive me home. Please don’t let me ruin your night. Stay. Have a good time.” In all honesty, I want some more time with Donovan. I enjoy his presence. It surrounds me and overwhelms me, and right now, that’s all I want.
Livey contemplates this
idea. I think she knows that I want to hang out with Donovan, but she wants to be the one that’s there for me. Livey sighs and gives in. “Okay, sweetie, but we are going to leave too. We are heading to grab a bite at Wendy’s, you want anything?” she offers.
“No, I’m okay, really. Just call me when you’re on the way home.” I tell her. We say our goodbyes to my girls and head out the door. My eyes scan the parking lot, looking for the linebacker. When I don’t see him, I breathe a sigh of relief. Donovan keeps his hold on me as we walk to his car. We reach the same BMW I had seen earlier this morning. Donovan releases me and opens the passenger side door for me. I slide in, and he shuts it. Donovan stops and looks around for my attacker. When he is completely satisfied, he slips into the driver’s side with ease. I admire the car’s beauty. It’s clean, and the black leather looks as though it’s been well taken care of. There is black tint on the windows. The stereo is custom made with lots of knobs and lights. Donovan’s iPod is laying on the cup holder. Donovan turns the key and roars the engine. Instead of shifting into reverse, he turns to me.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t stop that jerk sooner. I only turned to finish my beer, only took my eyes off of you for a second. By the time I turned to look for you, the guy was grabbing you and trying to assault you,” Donovan clenches his teeth, his brow furrowed.
“Please don’t blame yourself. It is not your fault,” I plead as I shift in my seat to face him, my eyes trained on his.
“But it did happen and it fucking pisses me off!” Donovan bellows as he slams both his fists on the steering wheel, making me jump.
I place my hand on his thigh. “Please don’t do this to yourself. You can’t beat yourself up over what some crazy guy did.” Donovan grabs my hand and whips around to face me, his eyes showing his fear.
“I was terrified. I really thought he would hurt you,” Donovan’s voice trails off.
My heart sinks. I don’t want him to feel tortured and helpless. “I’m fine, really. I was scared, too.
