Trust Me

by Isabel Jolie

  Olivia flits through my mind. Her mesmerizing blues, thick, long brown hair, her smooth skin. Sweet, rich scent. Headstrong. Independent. She’d hate succumbing to security as much as I do.

  I clench my fist. No, I can’t ask her to give up her privacy. And I can’t risk her safety. I don’t see a good solution here. At least not a solution I like.

  Chapter 14

  Olivia

  “Someone’s looking happy.” Paige grins at me from behind the counter as she hands over my mug of coffee, and I pay for it along with the banana and yogurt I grabbed from the refrigerator.

  A subtle but noticeable burn radiates across my cheeks from the wide smile that’s been plastered on my face all morning. I’m floating, and it doesn’t shock me at all that my favorite barista notices.

  As I gather my breakfast, I admit to my blue-haired friend, “Good weekend.” Great, amazing, unforgettable weekend. But I’m pretty certain Paige doesn’t want the details.

  I settle down in my chair and pull out my calendar to get a grasp on all the stuff I have to get done today. Before I make any progress, Take It Easy sounds from within my backpack. Delilah. I’m like a bubble about to burst and can’t get the phone answered fast enough.

  “Hey!” I answer with so much enthusiasm I almost wince from how cheerleader-like I sound. Again, so not me.

  Delilah doesn’t miss a beat. “Tell. Me. Everything!”

  I squeal. Literally squeal like a schoolgirl. “We spent pretty much all day yesterday together. He called me right after my yoga class.”

  “I knew when you blew us off for brunch that you’d spend the whole day with him. Did you stay at his place or yours last night?”

  I hesitate for one second, then decide I’ve got to let it all go. “Delilah, he’s amazing. Like earth-shattering, going to completely crush my heart, amazing. What am I doing?”

  “What do you mean, what are you doing?” she screeches so loudly I hold the phone out from my ear an inch or two. “This is awesome. And it’s so what you deserve.”

  “I don’t know. I’m floating right now. Waiting for the bubble to pop. I don’t want to sound negative. I don’t. It’s just, you know, can he really be this awesome?”

  “Sweetheart, you deserve this. Enjoy it. No one is going to pop your bubble. And I’m going to be the best bridesmaid you could imagine!”

  I laugh out loud at that, and the guy sitting across from me looks up from his laptop and adjusts his glasses. His perusal reminds me I’m sitting out in the open where everyone can hear my conversation. “I’m hanging up now.”

  I roll my eyes. Marriage. Leave it to Delilah to go there. I’ll be happy if we make it through the week without me regretting this. I have a history of being attracted to jerks. And this guy is gorgeous, and I’m pretty sure there’s a good chance he’s a player. He said he’s been focused on his business, but a guy that hot and successful? It wouldn’t exactly be shocking to learn he’s a one-night stand champion. That thought sobers me.

  My stomach lurches as memories of that day resurface. Me walking deeper into the graphics studio, searching for Damien, my boyfriend. Most everyone had gone home for the day. I wanted to find him to see if he’d seen the real estate listing I’d sent him.

  I walk toward the sound. Most monitors are dark, but purple lines zip across in screen saver mode on some. As I walk around the corner of one large monitor, brown curly hair bobbing up and down comes into view. Everything goes into slow motion as I pass the monitor obscuring my view.

  Damien’s hands shoot up into the air as if I’m holding a gun. For a fleeting moment, I wish I was holding a gun. His eyes are wide, but he doesn’t stop the woman bobbing up and down on his cock. One hand moves slowly down to her head, poised above it, as if he’s thinking about stopping her but doesn’t really want to.

  A vise grips my chest, and the room blurs. I turn to leave, but then I visualize the apartment we almost signed a lease on last weekend. We didn’t get it. Some other lucky, quicker applicants did. But if we’d gotten it, we would have signed a one-year lease together on an apartment I couldn’t afford alone.

  Anger mixes with shock. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  The curly brown hair lifts at my voice and turns around then runs her tongue across her lips.

  “It’s not what you think. I promise,” Damien says, drawing my attention upward, above his cock and the woman’s head.

  “Well, what the fuck is it?” I scream.

  “Calm down. It’s not a regular thing.”

  Curly brown hair sits on her butt, eyes darting between Damien and me before settling on me.

  Damien tucks himself back into his pants as he says, “Olivia, calm down, and let’s talk about this.”

  That’s the last thing I hear him say. I head back out into the long hall that connects the studio with the account offices. All I want is to leave. I’m alone in the hall. He’s not chasing me. He’s not trying to catch up with me or talk to me. Tears blur my vision as I hurry out of the building. Only one of our receptionists sits at the reception desk. The lights behind the desk are dimmed for close of business.

  She looks up at me, and her lips contort a bit. Sympathy. She feels sorry for me. Somehow, she fucking knows. Stacy from reception knows I walked in on Damien cheating on me. From the look she’s giving me, she’s not surprised at all, but she feels sad for me because she knows I didn’t know.

  I hear Stacy call, “Olivia, everything okay?” as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

  I hate that sympathetic look. As a kid, I was always the last one picked up from school. Whoever had dismissal duty would stand with me, and parents would cast downward glances my way with their bottom lip pushed out a bit. Sometimes they’d offer something like, “Are you okay, sweetie?” For all things holy, I hate that look. Yes, Damien, Stacy from reception gave me that look because of you.

  A chair sliding on the hardwood floor nearby pulls me out of my trance. I shake my head to clear the memory. For days, a slideshow ran through my head on repeat of her head. Damien’s hands and his blasted “calm down.” One call to my uncle, and I had a new job lined up, not only in a different company so I never had to see that bastard again, but a new country.

  Damien texted twenty-nine times, mostly during the first week or two, sporadically since. I haven’t responded once, but I haven’t yet deleted them either. He had the gall to reach out to my mother and ask if he could meet her for lunch. If there’s one thing I can count on her for, it’s her lack of time. After showing him the hand, she texted me, annoyed my ex-boyfriend consumed any of her screen time.

  I pull my calendar back out in front of me and attempt to focus on planning the week ahead. I move my undone tasks from the weekend into allocated time slots on this week’s calendar. The somewhat mindless task helps me to focus, level the roller coaster of emotions flowing through me. Yes, historically, I’ve made some bad choices, but that doesn’t mean Sam is a bad choice.

  A shadow falls over my table. I glance up, and my mouth drops for a moment. Lindsey pulls the chair out and joins me.

  “Hey, there. Do you mind if I join you for a minute?” She’s holding a steaming cup of coffee, but it’s a paper cup, the kind you can take out. I glance over and see Paige watching us before she turns back to the coffee machine.

  Seeing Lindsey triggers flashbacks to Halloween night. Memories I’d kind of forgotten in my magical day yesterday. I stare at Lindsey, trying to decipher what she wants. We kissed. And did more. But it was a drunken haze. And now, here she sits.

  She gives me a slight smile. “Are you okay? Can I sit here?”

  Her repeated question makes me realize I never answered her. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. How are you?” It’s the first thing out of my mouth, and I blanch at the generic question.

  “Hey, it’s not going to be weird between us now, is it?” Her gaze darts from me, over to the coffee bar, and to several of the other folks sitting around us in the coffee shop
. She doesn’t look me in the eye.

  Without thinking, I reach out and touch her arm in an attempt to placate her. “Hey, yeah, we’re friends.” I wait until her focus settles back to me, and I continue. “It was a crazy, drunken night. I mean, I don’t even remember a lot that happened.” I lean back and wrap my fingers around my large coffee mug. “How’d you get home?”

  She relaxes. Turns out she doesn’t remember getting home either. We were both wasted. She spent Saturday on her sofa, completely hungover, just like me. We’re sitting there discussing the insanity of Halloween night when a text comes through. I glance down to read it. My body temperature goes from room temperature to ice cold.

  Sam: Hey, something has come up, and I’ve got to head to San Fran this week. Rain check for tonight. Talk later.

  I read and re-read the text. “Hey, you okay?” I hear Lindsey ask, concern in her tone.

  “Yeah. Yeah.” I scratch my nails along my scalp before returning my attention back to Lindsey. “I met this guy, and now he’s blowing me off.” Maybe he’s not, but the sinking feeling in my stomach says otherwise. I open my backpack and plop my phone into it. I do not need to respond and need to start focusing on school. My to-do list for today is massive.

  “I doubt he’s blowing you off.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure. Maybe not. Who knows? We’ll see.” I set my coffee on the table and resume filling out my calendar for the week.

  A flirty smile crosses Lindsey’s face. “Has he kissed you?”

  I squint and cautiously respond, “Yeah.”

  She stands to leave and smiles down at me as she pushes the chair in. “Then, I promise. He’s not blowing you off.” With a grin, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and prances out, never looking back.

  Chapter 15

  Sam

  I head straight to the hostess stand at Jin Ramen, right past a line of people. Customers in line are now watching my interaction with the hostess to ensure I don’t jump in front of them for a table. The hostess hasn’t yet spoken to me, but I’m looking over her head anyway.

  I see Jason sitting at a table toward the back of the restaurant and don’t even bother to say a word to the hostess. I’m pulling a chair out from the table before Jason sees me.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  Jason shrugs in answer. He has no energy. I wish I could zap him or force feed him pills to make him return to his old self. I’ve seen him down before, but this doesn’t make sense. His last PET scan results were good. Unless he hasn’t told me the truth. I study him, not saying a word.

  Finally, he notices. “What?” he asks.

  “Your test results, they were good, right? You’re in remission?” He’s been given the NED determination before, meaning no evidence of disease. And it came back, so I know good results don’t mean a guarantee. He’ll be fighting cancer, in one way or another, for the rest of his life.

  He huffs loudly and picks up the menu. “Yes, I told you. All good.”

  “Well, why are you so down? You look like someone died. I don’t get it.”

  He flicks the menu on the table, annoyance radiating off him. “I’m fine. I’m fine, okay? Just settling back into my day-to-day, that’s all.”

  I squint, considering his phrase, day-to-day. Does he not like his career? Is that what this is about?

  “Anyway, I thought you wanted to talk about you. I’m sick of talking about me.” He pauses and scowls at me. “Yes, talking about me is making me sick. I need to talk about, think about, someone other than me.” He points at me. “Let’s go. Tell me what’s going on. I know something’s up. Janet told me you needed to talk. Spill.”

  I flinch. “What did Janet say?” I haven’t said word one to Janet.

  “She said something’s eating at you, and she’s glad we’re going out tonight. You know, she and I talk on the phone more than you and I do.”

  Yeah, Janet pretty much arranges my life. No surprise she’s close to the players.

  The waitress comes over, and we order. The moment she leaves, Jason taps the table and says, “Spill.”

  “Nothing to spill.” He angles his head, and his expression tells me he’s not buying what I’m selling. Fine. “Remember Olivia?” I run my hand through my hair and look out across the restaurant. “Well, we’re seeing each other. It’s only been a short while, but…” I rap my knuckles on the edge of the table, not sure where to go with this. “I’ve got to think it through.”

  “Think what through?”

  “Do you remember the woman I had to get a restraining order against?”

  Wrinkles form on his brow and around the corners of his eyes as he tries to connect the dots. “Yeah.”

  “Well, she’s still around.”

  “Has she done anything?” He sits forward, arms on the table, alert.

  “Nah. I didn’t even know she was in the picture. I haven’t seen her. But my security team, I guess they’ve been keeping an eye on her. They hadn’t mentioned her to me in a long time, but it seems she’s still…” I can’t bear to admit out loud that some woman out there has an obsession with me. This whole situation has given me so much more empathy for actors. Or anyone in the public spotlight. Anyone whose privacy gets invaded so people can read about them. If my brothers knew I hired all this security for protection from a girl, they’d never stop ribbing me.

  “But she hasn’t approached you? Threatened you? Because, you know, if she threatens you, that’s serious. Half of all stalkers who make threats end up acting out on it.”

  I gesture to stop him. “I’m fully aware of the stats.” I glare at him to force him to drop it. “But I saw a list of the places where she’s been spotted.” I huff. “It looks like she’s started following Olivia.”

  Jason starts to open his mouth to say something then closes it. I wait. “So, is it like transference? Like her obsession has transferred?” He stops and shakes his head as he thinks it all through then snaps his fingers. “No, she’s obsessed with Olivia because it’s the first person she’s seen you date.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. My security team keeps an eye out for her, but they don’t talk to her. We’d need a psychiatrist to understand what’s going through her mind.” And that’s what made her scary to begin with. She refused to see someone. I offered to pay for a therapist. Her parents are dead, and her ex-husband doesn’t want anything to do with her. She’s a loner.

  Jason taps his index finger along his jaw as he absorbs what I’ve shared. “What does Olivia say about it?”

  I shake my head. “Haven’t told her.”

  Jason’s facial expression shifts the moment the lightbulb goes off. “You’re considering not dating her to avoid bringing her into this.”

  I open both my hands flat, flip them over, and study my palms. “Yeah. Bill wants me to hire security to trail her, but I don’t want that for her. She’s in grad school. It’d be unfair to her.”

  Jason sits back. “But you mentioned the security team is following your stalker. If she tried to do anything to Olivia, wouldn’t they see?”

  I jump up, grab his head, and pull him over so I can smack a giant kiss on his forehead.

  Jason pushes me off and wipes at his forehead, smiling while saying, “Ew, man. Knock it off.”

  I get back in my seat. “I knew I could talk this through with you. That makes total sense. Why didn’t I think of that? And why didn’t Bill? I mean, we don’t have anyone tailing her twenty-four-seven. Bill has someone who kind of knows her general vicinity. Maybe if she comes near me, they follow her. But I can have them adjust that. She might as well get tailed. At least, as long as they’re discreet.”

  “Yeah, the stalker becomes the stalked,” Jason says in an eerie tone while he wiggles his fingers.

  “Interesting.” I smile, thinking it all through. “This could work. I’ll cover off on it with Bill, but this could work. Okay. So, we’ve worked out my situation. What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing. You kn
ow, you still need to talk to Olivia. Tell her what’s going on.”

  “You’re right. She needs to know. Be aware. I hate taking any risk with her.”

  “Man, some risks are worth taking. You can’t live your life in fear.”

  I study my friend. “Maybe that’s some advice you should take to heart?”

  He gazes out the window and quietly responds, “No. It’s different for me. You’ve got a whole life in front of you. Make sure you live it.” He turns to me, gives me the tiniest of upturned smiles, and sips his sake.

  “You’ve got a full life to live too.”

  “Until it comes back.”

  “Shit. Is that what you’ve got yourself thinking? It’s coming back?”

  “There’s a damn good chance it will. I just—”

  “No, man. Even if it does come back, we’ll kick it again. And it may not come back. You’ve got to get out there and live. None of us know when our last day is coming. It means we each have to get out there and live. Live as if it’s our last.”

  He angles his head. “Says the man who was just debating not dating someone because of the risk from some crazy chick who likes to watch him from park benches.”

  “That’s different. That’s her safety,” I argue. I stand firm on this. “You’ve got to put yourself out there. You can’t live each day expecting a recurrence.”

  I can tell he’s thinking about arguing with me, but instead digs into his food. I make a mental note to talk to Olivia and see if she has any ideas about people we could set Jason up with. Olivia. She thinks I’m still on a business trip, and I’ve been MIA. Not a great way to treat a woman. Maybe I can surprise her.

  I turn back to Jason. “Did you ever get a chance to think any more about date ideas?”

  Chapter 16