Chapter One
It didn’t used to be like this. My
life used to be better.
Every time I read a horoscope I wonder why I
even bother. As if the stars could tell me what my day is going to be like or
what is in store for me. Then I lump myself in with all those weirdos who
depend on the horoscopes every day even though a little part deep, deep down
secretly craves the guidance from the stars.
I quickly closed the magazine I was
reading as a beeping sounded in my ears. A groan, my chair squeaked with the
sudden movement as I straightened and pushed the button on the phone.
“Pure Travel Reservations, my name
is Olivia, where can I book you today?” My voice was a lot more chipper than I
felt, my lightness masking the oppressive weight I felt every time I answered
the phone.
“I’m not sure yet.” It was a
smart-ass. Great. He sounded rich. His wealth so stifling I almost could not
speak.
“How can I help you, sir?” I said,
choosing to ignore his little quip.
“Well, I have some vacation time
coming up and I would like to use one of my time share weeks.”
“Very good.” I kicked the computer
to life with a click of the mouse. It buzzed and woke up, glaring at me with
its bright screen as if saying Screw you,
I’m sleeping. Apologetically, I tap lightly on the keys as I pull up the
window where I was to enter the customer information.
“What is your name, sir?”
“Lyle Truman.”
He gave me all his information and I
typed away like a good little girl. His impatience was building; I could feel
it.
“All right, Mr. Truman, where can I
send you?” I knew where I really wanted
to send him and it was not a nice place. It was warm though.
“Here is my dilemma. My wife wants
to go to Hawaii, and I would like to go somewhere different like Key West.”
Such a dilemma. I rolled my eyes and
bit back the words that came to mind.
“All right, well, I see you have
been to Hawaii ten times, so it is understandable that you would want to try
somewhere new.”
“But I love Hawaii.”
“Okay. What island would you like to
go to?”
“Kauai. Less people there. Have you
ever been to Key West?”
“No, sir. I hear it is fantastic
though.”
“So I should go there.”
“I’m really confused, sir. Do you
want Key West or Kauai?”
“That’s why I called you.”
“This is Reservations, Mr. Truman. I
book the time share for you. I can’t make the decision for you.”
Lyle Truman harrumphed at that,
exasperated. My patience was wearing thin.
“I can, however, tell you some
features of either place. Maybe that will help you figure out which one you
would prefer.”
“That would be helpful.”
It was helpful. That is me. Reserve
the grand escapes to paradises I will never see for people who lose sleep
wondering if they should choose Hawaii or Key West. The next day it might be
Alaska or New Mexico. Lyle Truman, a prime example, ended up going to Hawaii
for the eleventh time, but he chose a different resort. Such a nice little
compromise he made with his wife. I’m impressed.
When the call was over, I rested my
head on my desk and closed my eyes. This is what my life has come to. I have to
take deep breaths, knowing full well that, in a matter of minutes, my headset
will beep again and another yuppie will call with another life-altering
dilemma. Paris or Rome? Gee. Why not both?
I removed the headset and rested
heavily in my chair, rolling my head back. When my head returned to normal
position I see a perfectly coifed redhead, impeccable makeup, and a bright grin
peering at me over the wall of my cubicle. Tanya, my only confidante in this
gopher trap and menial life, is so put together it makes me ill sometimes.
Probably because I’m so not put together.
“Breathing exercises already, Liv?”
“It is a little early for them,
right?” I looked at the clock. Five more hours left of my shift.
“No stress, hon. Anything you need
to do not to bite off people’s heads.”
“I do consider it a successful day
when no one ends up headless because of me.” I stretched my arms above my head.
“A success in anyone’s book, my
dear,” she said with a wink.
“Oh! Phone call. Shit.” I sat up, my
chair groaned with the movement, fumbled as I put on the headset. Tanya
disappeared behind the cubicle wall again and I clicked the red button of doom.
“Pure Travel Reservations, my name
is Olivia, where can I book you today?”
“Is that really how you answer the
phone? Did you get your coffee fix today, Liv?”
I recognized the voice. “Nikki, why
are you calling me on my work line?”
“Because, you silly duck, I knew you
wouldn’t answer your cell phone.”
Nikki Lovelace, my best friend from
high school, was also my roommate in college and now she was my roommate again.
At her mom’s loft apartment here in Boston. I had planned on moving to New York
City when I was done with college. I got my degree and it was time to follow my
dream of being on Broadway. Turned out that there was no way I could afford to
move to New York right away. It also turned out that Nikki’s mom, Paige Minnix,
lived in Boston and she had a connection to Broadway that she was constantly
trying to line me up with.
“There’s a reason why, Nik. It’s
called my boss would fire me if he knew I was taking private calls.”
“This is important, Olivia. I will
make it quick.”
I looked at my watch. “Thirty
seconds to sell me whatever it is you’ve got.”
“Gee, and I thought we were besties.
Two things: my mom got in touch with Mr. Burke today, and he has agreed to meet
you today at five-thirty. He will be in town for a couple of hours so you have
to haul your fat ass fast outside the Orpheum Theater downtown. Do you think
you can handle that?”
I forgot all about Nikki’s thirty
second time limit. Mr. Henry Burke was Paige’s connection to Broadway. The last
two times I have tried to meet him something random and tragic has happened. It
was a miracle he even agreed to meet me again.
“I can handle that, Nikki. What was
the other thing?” I did not want to ask but I had to change the subject or else
I would be on the phone for hours with her. Then I would for sure be in
trouble.
Nikki paused and I heard her suck
her breath in through her teeth. I wasn’t sure if I actually heard it or if I
just knew her well enough to know that was what she was doing.
“My mom also has a guy she wants you
to go on a date with.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is it her
personal mission to play Cupid for me, or does your mom like to see me squirm?”
Nikki laughed. “Maybe a little bit
of both. Trust me, babe, if I didn’t have James, she’d be doing the same thing
to me.”
James was Nikki’s boyfriend. They
had been together since our freshman year in college. He had followed Nikki and
me here to Boston from University of Missouri. Over the years I had become
accustomed to being the third wheel or the one on an awkward first date with
some random guy James or Nikki knew. I was always Nikki’s little shadow. She
with her magnetic personality, her perfect blonde hair, hourglass figure always
outshone me with my thick black hair, dull brown eyes, impossibly pale skin,
and hopelessly thin build.
“Please tell me this one actually
knows what hygiene is.” My last blind date, courtesy of Paige Minnix, was a
disaster. The guy smelled a little too heavily of sweat, his shirt was all
rumpled and wrinkly, and, out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw him pick
his nose.
“No guarantees, babe. You know my
mom. If it’s a guy that is around our age and single, she thinks he’s the right
one.”
“Probably why she and your dad
didn’t work out,” I said without thinking.
Thankfully, Nikki laughed. “You
catch on quick.”
I actually knew Nikki’s dad, Vince
Lovelace. He lived in St. Louis where Nikki and I grew up. He was my dad’s
bowling partner and one of the nicest guys I knew. And I know I was not the
only girl that was Nikki’s friend that had a crush on him.
“When is this horrid matchup
happening?”
“Tonight.”
“You’re kidding me.” I looked around
sheepishly after I realized that I had said it really loud. “Aren’t my thirty seconds up?”
“No way are you getting out of this
so easily.” I gritted my teeth.
“James is going to pick us up at
eight and then we will go get your date, then go out for dinner and drinks, and
then go from there. Sound good?”
“The drinks sound good,” I muttered.
“What’s this one’s name?”
Nikki sounded like she was reading
something when she answered. “Harper?”
My brows furrowed. “Sounds like a
name from a soap opera.”
“Never know. Maybe he’s your soul
mate.”
“Hanging up now.”
“See you later, chica.”
“Uh-huh.” I pushed the button
quickly and groaned. “This is just great.”
I didn’t want to go on a date tonight. A blind
date, no less. I wondered how Paige Minnix, a sixty-something divorcee who was
also a shopaholic, managed to meet all these eligible, young bachelors. Men
were never my forte, but I had hoped that would change when I moved to a new
city. My move to Boston had not gone as planned from the beginning. That should
have been my first clue.
I was supposed to have a job as a
curator at the National Heritage Museum. One of my professors at University of
Missouri had a connection there and, as a history major, it is best to jump
right on those little connections. It was perfect, too, because Nikki was
moving to Boston to be closer to her mom and because she had gotten a great job
as a paralegal at some high and mighty law firm. And then Paige had told me she
had a connection with Broadway, and that sealed the deal.
Then the curator job fell through. I
had packed all my things, uprooted my whole life, thinking that I would have
this great job, but when I arrived for some orientation, they told me that the
position had been closed.
So now here I am. I work at a
miserable job where I talk to snobs all day in a nice little box. What I really
want to do with my life is not answer phones and watch other people make plans
for amazing trips to exotic places. And I really don’t want to be a curator at
a museum although that would be a far cry above Pure Travel.
Lunch time came and I realized I did
not have a lunch with me. With a sigh I made my way to the commons area where
there were some vending machines. I was in dire need of a chocolate fix. My
hunger was a burning knot at the back of my throat.
I pushed the buttons for a
king-sized Snickers. Don’t judge me; I love my chocolate.
To my despair it got stuck, hanging
on for dear life by the edge of the little spinning wire that keeps the candy
in order. A harsh growl escaped from my mouth.
I kicked at the machine. I’m weak. I
know that much. Slapping at the glass was no use either. Groaning, I rested my
forehead against the clear cover of the vending machine, the only thing holding
me back from my lunch. I closed my eyes and, just as I was about to resign
myself to use some more money to try again when I heard a voice behind me.
“Mind if I try?” I lifted my head
from the vending machine, looked up at the owner of the voice. Stark blue eyes,
dark stubble on a nice firm jaw, a quick smile, and sandy blond hair, he was
taller than me but not by much. He was wearing a light blue shirt that
accentuated his eyes and his tanned skin.
With a sound akin to a hiccupping
squirrel jangling from my mouth, I stepped back, allowing the stranger ample
room to try his hand at freeing my precarious Snickers bar. He took the flat of
his hand and smacked the plexiglass with a practiced ease and a loud thwapping
noise. The Snickers fell with a victorious little crash to the bottom of the
vending machine.
He retrieved the candy bar for me
and turned to me with a gleaming white-toothed grin. “Good choice. Definitely
worth the trouble.”
“Thank you,” I took the candy bar
from him with a sheepish smile.
“Enjoy your Snickers,” he said,
flashing me a quick smile lined with nice white teeth.
I looked down at the stupid Snickers
which was, in fact, snickering at me right at that moment. Such an apt name for
a dumb candy bar. I tucked some hair behind my ear, wanting to take back the
last, say, twenty minutes. Start over at the moment I decided I wanted a candy
bar for lunch.
The Snickers, however, was enough
fuel for the remainder of the drag-along day. I took the headset off for the
final time which is the sweetest part of my day when I can leave work. After I
said my goodbyes to Tanya and my select few acquaintances there I headed for
the elevator with my purse slung over my shoulder and my black coat tied at the
waist. I pushed the button for the elevator and stood there alone as I watched
it make its descent.
My reflection in the silver doors
was mottled but I could see the wide brown eyes and the thick black hair tied
back in a quick bun. The picture before me made me look gaunt and ghostly and I
tried to tell myself it was just the fact that I was looking at myself in a
steel mirror, but that did nothing to comfort me.
The doors opened, splitting the
image of me in two and part of me was relieved that I didn’t have to look at
that any longer. I stepped inside, noticing that I was not alone. I sighed as
the doors closed. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the couple standing
next to me. There was a tall man near my age with sandy blond hair and a quick
smile. His arm was slung around the shoulder of the woman next to him. She had
fake red hair, dark red lips, and a model thin figure.
I rolled my eyes and looked away,
hoping the next ten floors would go by quickly.
The redhead made a whimpering sound.
Yes, she whimpered. Oh, please, just
let me get out of this elevator and catch the next one.
“I can’t believe you can’t come over
tonight,” she said.
“I have plans, babe, but maybe I can
come over right after.”
I snorted. It was an involuntary
reflex that I didn’t realize I had done out loud until I saw that the dyed red
Barbie was glaring at me sideways. I looked away and bit at my thumb nail
nonchalantly. When I sneaked another glance at them I could see that the man
was looking at me, an odd look in his sharp blue eyes. I recognized him from my
nearly tragic loss at lunch. Thankfully, the elevator stopped and the doors
opened just then. I rushed out of there as fast as I could without running. The
Snickers Man was also Awkward Elevator Guy. Figured that the smooth rescue of
my Snickers bar was just that. Smooth. Womanizing.
I shuddered. It was not my style to
judge people, but I knew this guy’s type all too well.
Once I was outside, I squinted in
the late afternoon sunlight that painted everything a soft golden color. Every
time I left work I felt like a mole coming out of the dark, deep hole in which
I had been hiding, my eyes blinded momentarily by the beautiful sun. Spring was
coming in Boston and the prickling cold of winter was on its way out, leaving welcome
warmth and new life in its wake.
The Orpheum Theater. Those three
words sprang up in my mind, twinned with an image of its solid but archaic and
classy architecture, and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. I sprang into a
run, waving my hand like a crazy person as I hailed a taxi. No luck. There was
not a single taxi in sight. I kept my pace, walking in the direction of the
theater. It was just about four blocks from where I worked, but I did not want
to approach Henry Burke panting and sweating like an eager, lost puppy. I’m
sure he would just love that and ask me to be on Broadway right away.
It was better than nothing. I set
off at a quick walk, pretty certain I looked like I had to pee something fierce.
My quick walk became a jagged jog as I thought of my dreams of being on
Broadway slipping right through my fingers.
Olivia Jordan, drama queen
extraordinaire that I am, actually started believing that this was my only shot
at Broadway. Tears sprang to my eyes as I jogged with my purse bouncing against
my hip. The random tragedies that were the last two attempts of trying to meet
Mr. Henry Burke still hung over my head. The first time I had spilled coffee on
myself and had to run back to change my shirt. Those two minutes it took to
change had been the difference between Mr. Burke leaving and me arriving.
The second time was not my fault. I
was on time, and I was waiting for him. Then Paige called me and said that
Henry had been stopped in traffic for the last hour and would miss his flight
if he made a stop to meet me.
Random. Tragic. I did not want
anything like that to happen again.
Two blocks later I finally got a
cab. It would give me time to gather my composure. I told the cabbie to take me
to Orpheum Theater. This was it. My break. I pulled my hair out of the bun and
let it fall around my shoulders. By the time we reached the theater I had my
breathing under control and felt more put together. Once the taxi came to a
stop, I handed the driver a crumpled bill and told him to keep the change, then
I rushed out onto the street.
Paige had described Henry Burke to
me. She said he was tall, British, and had an impeccable shock of white hair
that he wore wild and curly. I figured he was pretty hard to miss. I searched
frantically for him. I was not late.
Then I saw him from behind. His hair
was blowing lightly in the wind and it was definitely noticeable. I ran toward
him and saw that he was getting into a cab.
“Mr. Burke!” I cried out, desperate.
I reached him, touched his shoulder just before he was getting into the taxi.
“Mr. Burke, I’m Olivia, Paige Minnix’s friend.” I stopped as he turned around.
It wasn’t him. It was a woman with nice, white hair, and an incredibly tall,
thin frame.
“Excuse me?” she looked at me as if
I had spit in her soup.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I thought you
were someone else.” I pulled away as the woman shook her head and got in the
cab.
I sighed and looked around,
searching for the elusive Mr. Burke again. There was a slight chilly wind in
the air and the sky was a steel grey color. My hair blew into my face and my
lips and I spat it out. A sweet smell of rain was in the air and I knew it
wasn’t long before a downpour. The weather could turn on you so fast in Boston,
and now I understood why everyone carried an umbrella with them through all the
spring months.
Biting my lip, I felt a coldness
settle in my chest. What if I missed him? I looked at my watch. I was right on
time. I looked at the front doors of the Orpheum Theater. People were milling
about, and I could hear their chatter vaguely. Suddenly, I was nervous and my
mouth went dry.
Just as I turned my eyes skyward to
check for the impending rain, I saw another flash of white. I fought the urge
to squeal in delight. Mr. Burke was just coming out of the building. Don’t judge,
but my heels might have clicked together right before I set off in a little jog
toward him.
As I was approaching, a big man with
a neck the size of my waist blocked my path. He was wearing a dark suit and his
eyes were small and narrowed. My breath caught in my throat.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to speak and saw
Mr. Burke continue to walk, completely oblivious to me and this mountain of a
man who was most likely one of his bodyguards.
“I need to speak to Mr. Burke right
there. He’s expecting me.”
“Who are you?”
“Olivia Jordan. We have a mutual
friend who arranged us to meet today about five minutes ago. It will just take
a few minutes.”
“We were not notified about a
meeting today. You will have to make an official appointment if you want to see
Mr. Burke.”
No way. Desperate times call for
desperate measures. I tried to move past the beefy blockage, but he stepped in
my way. Damn, he could move fast for someone so big. I waved my arms
frantically, watching Mr. Burke and his entourage walk away with my dreams.
“Mr. Burke!” I cried out, still
waving my arms like a lunatic. At any other point in my life I probably would
have felt pretty pathetic.
I tried to run toward him again,
seeing that big mop of white hair disappear into a sleek, black limousine. His
guard dog stopped me again as if I were a terrorist. I weigh 120 lbs soaking
wet and I’m the threat. That makes tons of sense to me too.
The doors to the limousine closed
and I whirled on the bodyguard who destroyed my chances.
“Are you happy now? You just ruined
everything!” Tears welled up in my eyes, and I left, turning my back on the
mountainous monster and the limo that was driving away with my dreams.
Okay, so maybe I’m slightly on the
dramatic side. Hello, I’m dying to be on Broadway. What else would you expect?
But, I must say, these were real tears I was crying. My only real shot now was
to somehow get myself to New York City, be a poor waitress, and get on the
endless roller coaster to stardom. I had learned that was not the route I
wanted to go. I would not waste my life on this. Even though, to me, it was
worth it.
“I don’t know how to flirt,” I was
saying to Nikki on the phone
approximately twelve minutes after my Meeting that Never Was. After she had sympathized
graciously for the way things turned out, she changed the subject to another
one that I did not want to talk about: the blind date.
“That’s just silly, Liv. You totally
know how to flirt.” I could picture my best friend painstakingly straightening
her pale blonde hair, her head crooked to the side so she could hold her phone
between her cheek and her shoulder.
I sighed. “I’m just too serious.”
“I’m the serious one, remember?”
Nikki said jokingly, and I could hear her chewing bubblegum.
I groaned at that. “I can’t go on
this blind date.”
“Why not?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because
today has already sucked enough as it is.”
“Ya never know.” I heard some
rustling while Nikki was quiet. “This guy could be Brad Pitt’s doppelganger.”
My lip curled involuntarily. “I
never understood this fascination you have with Brad Pitt.”
“Nobody does, babe. Now get your
ever-lovin’ ass home so we can get you all prettied up.”
I groaned. “You act like I can’t
dress myself.”
“From one fashionista to another,
sometimes your style sets people off.”
I stopped mid-stride and looked down
at my cute red heels, my black pencil skirt with white pinstripes, and the
white blouse with black polka dots and ruffles on the sleeves and collar.
Definitely not practical for my over-the-phone job, but I always tried to look
professional and stylish. Granted, my style tended to lean toward the vintage
look, and I modeled a lot of my style after Liza Minelli, but I thought I
looked good.
“What does that mean?”
“I love you, sweetheart. That’s what
it means,” Nikki said a little too quickly. She knew me well enough to know
when she was heading into the danger zone. “Enough talking. Get moving. I’ll
see you when you get here.”
I sighed and hung up, stared at my
phone for a minute, and wondered if that conversation actually just happened.
Just as I dropped my phone back into
my purse, I heard a whoop of delight coming from behind me. I turned around to
see what was going on. A young man, near my age, was running toward me with a
big smile on his face and a black fedora on his head. I immediately thought of Newsies by the way he was dressed in a
vest and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked like he shot out
straight from the 1930s. There was a spryness in the way he moved, it almost
seemed unreal.
Then I realized he was being chased.
A bigger man with a dark scowl on his face was running after him, but the man
in the fedora seemed thrilled by the chase. He was older and had a thick neck
and even thicker arms. If I had a man that looked like the big guy running
after me, I would be scared for my life. They were both heading right for me
because I was in the way.
I tried to dodge the younger man
running toward me by sidestepping but I was too late. He turned to look at, big
surprise, the other man who was chasing him.
“Come back here!” the pursuant
called while I tried to maneuver myself out of the line of fire. Every time I
moved, the guy in the fedora went the same way. The pencil skirt was not much
help in easing my movements. It all happened so fast, but it seemed like
everything was going in slow motion as the guy in the hat rammed right into me,
knocking me to the ground unceremoniously. I let out a yelp, caught myself with
my hands, and tried to maintain my dignity.
“So very sorry!” I saw a hand in
front of my face and I went to slap it away before I realized that it belonged
to the guy who had knocked me down. I looked up at him, his ridiculous smile
beaming under his fedora. Cool grey eyes twinkled merrily at me.
I took his hand and he helped me to
my feet. My purse had tumbled to the ground and spilled just about everything
out of it. With a curse under my breath, I dusted off my skirt.
“Gotta go!” my assailant said
quickly as he patted me on the shoulder and took off running again.
“I’m sure you do, asshole,” I
muttered. I looked at the palms of my hands that were now riddled with scrapes
and little pebbles from the sidewalk. Now I was going to go on my blind date
with bandaged hands. Real great first impression.
“Did he hurt you?”
I turned and saw the big man who had
been giving chase to the man in the fedora. He had kind eyes despite his
rough-looking exterior.
“Just knocked me down. I’ll be just
fine. Go get him, sailor.”
He gave me a confused look and
nodded. “Don’t let him near you. He’s trouble.” Without waiting for a response
from me, he took off running, but I could no longer see the guy he was chasing.
(This is copyrighted by ME. Don't steal from me, please. I will hunt you down and make you pay. Ok? Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!)
