Olivia (34 page)

“
I assumed that,” she says. “Want
to tell me what’s wrong?”

“
It’s stupid.” After throwing my
school uniform in my duffel and putting on my boots, I kick the bag
out from under the door. “Can you zip me up?” I ask her.

She raises her eyebrows when she sees my dress.
“That’s, um... short, Liv,” my best friend says as she secures the
dress with the zipper. “Are you going to go up to Columbia to see
him?”

“
No, I have a meeting with Abram in
an hour.”

“
Oh, that’s right. So who are you
dressing for then?”

“
I’m hoping Jon will show up,” I
explain, pulling out my makeup bag and applying a fresh coat of
powder and blush. “Can you do that smoky thing with my
eyes?”

“
Of course!” Camille drops her
purse on the counter and sifts through my bag for the charcoal
liner. “Close your eyes.”

“
He found out Dad paid for his
mom’s rehab... and she quit the program and got trashed the other
day.”

“
So he’s mad at... who,
exactly?”

“
The world,” I tell her, rolling my
eyes.

“
Eyes closed,” she reminds
me.

“
Sorry. He was pissed at his mom
first, then me, then my parents... My dad tried to talk to him last
night, and I don’t know the details, but it didn’t go well. I
really think he’s going to break up. He sent me a message this
morning, saying we need to talk.”

“
Oh, sweetie,” she says, grasping
me by my shoulders. I peek out of the eye she’s not concentrating
on. “Are you okay?”

“
Look at me,” I tell her,
determined. “Don’t I look okay?”

“
You look hot,” she says with a
smile. “If he breaks up, he is a fool.”

“
I know,” I tell her arrogantly...
but it’s true.

“
I have this new lipstick,” my best
friend says, returning to her own purse and producing a bright red
tube. She forms her lips into a kiss, instructing me to do the
same. She applies one coat of color, and another layer of shiny
gloss on top. “I hope he shows up,” she laughs. “There’s no way
he’d break up with you, looking like this.”

I shrug my shoulders. “He’s not that shallow,” I
admit to her softly, but still hope that my appearance has some
affect on him.

“
But he’s a guy, Liv. Just watch
the reaction of every guy you pass on the way out. And those guys
have only imagined you naked–”

“
Thanks for that reminder,” I tease
her. “Wish me luck.” I check myself once more in the mirror before
grabbing my things and leaving.

I wait for Abram outside of the apartment building,
having texted him before I left school letting him know that I
needed to get the painting. He suggested we meet here first. He
finally pulls up in a new white Mercedes, taking his time as he
gets out of the car and seeming reluctant to give the valet his
keys.

“
Pretty car,” I tell
him.

“
I just bought it. It pays to have
talented clients,” he laughs.

“
You’re welcome.”

“
And a thank you to you, Livvy,” he
says with a smile.

He ushers me in the building with his hand on the
small of my back–and then doesn’t move it when we actually get
inside.

“
Hi, Francisco.”

“
Miss Holland...” he nods his
polite greeting, “and this is...”

“
Abram, my agent,” I tell him, and
only then does he remove his hand to shake the
doorman’s.

“
Pleasure to meet you,” Abram
says.

“
Your mother said you might come
by.”

“
I just have to pick up a
painting.”

“
Did you need a cart?”

“
No, it’s not too big. Surely he
can carry it,” I say, smiling at Abram.

“
It’ll be a doddle, Livvy,” he
assures me, putting his hand on my back again.
Has he always done this, and I’ve never noticed?
It
just feels strange today, but I don’t stop him, curious what Jon
would think if he saw us.

“
Penthouse,” I instruct him as we
get into the elevator. When the doors close, I check my makeup in
the mirror on the back wall. “Do I look okay?”

I can hear him swallow before he answers me.
“Exquisite,” he says. “Like a true artist.”

“
Good.” I flash a brief smile at
him before getting out on our floor.

“
So, this will be your place when
you turn eighteen?” he asks.

“
I guess so,” I tell him, opening
the door. “I don’t know that I’ll actually live here. I guess it
depends on where I decide to go to school.”

“
You can’t leave Manhattan,” he
says as he steps into the apartment. “My God, Livvy, you certainly
can’t leave this loft! Most people only dream of places like
this.”

“
I’d come back,” I laugh. “I fully
intend to live here someday.”

Abram walks over to the tall windows and looks at
the view below. “Incredible. You could do so much with this. You
must move your studio here–”

“
It’s here,” I remind him. “Behind
those doors–but don’t open them,” I say, suddenly anxious that he
will. “But I can’t really come here to work until I’m
eighteen.”

“
And why not?” he asks.

“
Because I’ve gotten myself in
trouble, being here,” I tell him vaguely with a blush.

“
Is this where the infamous photo
was snapped?”

“
You saw that?”

“
The world saw it, my dear,” he
answers. “Are you telling me it was truly you?”

I smile, wishing I could lie about it but realizing
it’s too late. I just shrug my shoulders, but his grin shows a
certain satisfaction. “It was stupid.”

“
It was lovely. It was nothing you
should be at all ashamed of.”

“
I’m not,” I tell him with
confidence. “Not at all.”

He stares down to the scene spread out beneath us,
taking a few steps to find a better angle. “Come have a look at
this,” he encourages, waving me toward the window without taking
his eyes off of whatever has grabbed his attention. He points to a
spot in the middle of the park. “Those lovers,” he laughs. “I bet
they have no idea people can see them.”

“
Probably not.” The couple is
caught in a frantic embrace in the grass beneath some trees. I take
a few steps back, not wanting to encroach on their moment,
regardless of the fact they have no idea two people are watching
them from a penthouse apartment with mirrored glass.

“
Such a birds-eye point of view,”
Abram says. “How could one not be voyeuristic living in a place
like this?”

“
Well, one wouldn’t stare out the
window at them,” I say softly, mocking his accent. This gets his
attention, and he finally looks away.

“
It is a little rude, isn’t it?” he
admits. “I was raised with better manners. But who wouldn’t get
carried away, with lovers behaving in such a way? In public, no
less,” he explains.

“
What, like you’ve never made out
with anyone in public?” I ask him.

“
Not once,” Abram says, and I
believe him. “And you have?”

“
Maybe once,” I answer. This time,
it is a lie.

“
Displays of affection like that,”
he says, “they’re much more American than British, to say the
least.”

“
I didn’t know that,” I tell him
with a shrug, trying to envision him carried away with any emotions
at all. He is always so even-tempered and polite. The conversation
between Matty and me returns to my mind, and I feel compelled to
ask Abram the question my uncle had planted into my head a few
months ago since he’d never gotten the chance to. “My uncle and I
were joking,” I start.  “We were curious who you would find
more attractive: me or him.”

He looks a little offended.  “Livvy, you think
I’m gay?”

“
I don’t,” I laugh.  “My uncle
thought he picked up on something when he met you.  Honestly,
I don’t know.”  I shrug my shoulders.

“
Let me assure you,” he says,
moving closer to me, “that your uncle’s senses are off.”

“
Okay, I’ll let him know.”
 Growing a little uncomfortable, I start to walk toward the
chair where the painting hangs.  The touch of his hand on mine
startles me, and he clasps it, tugging at my arm gently, bringing
me back to him.  

“
And let me assure you–” he
repeats.

“
I understand,” I laugh nervously.
 He puts his finger under my chin and tilts my face to
his.

“
I assure you that I find you
infinitely more attractive,” he whispers.

“
Okay.”  I try to take my hand
back, but his grip tightens.  Before I have another chance to
pull away, his lips are on mine and both of his hands have moved
once more to the small of my back.  He holds my body tight
against him as he kisses me, even as I try to push away from
him.

“
You do this to me,” he says as he
nudges against me.  Jon and I had shared enough intimate
moments to leave nothing to my imagination.  “You, Olivia.”
 He kisses me again, but this time I turn my head to the side
in an attempt to escape.

“
Don’t call me that,” I say as I
try to catch my breath.  

“
He
calls
you that,” Abram says.  “I thought you liked it.”  He
brings one hand back up to reposition my face once more, this time
gripping my chin roughly.

“
Stop it,” I tell him at the same
moment a knock is heard at the door.  I hear Francisco’s
voice, and Abram steps back suddenly, straightening his shirt and
blazer.

“
I’m sorry,” he says.  “I
don’t know–”

“
Livvy, open up!”  It’s Jon’s
voice now.  Stunned, I look from the door to Abram.  I
stumble backwards, and my agent grabs my hand to steady me just as
my boyfriend opens the door I had left unlocked.  I pull away
from Abram quickly, looking toward the door to find Francisco
behind Jon.

“
Sir, you cannot be here,” the
doorman says to Jon.  “I’ve called security.  I have
strict instructions from Mr. Holland–”

“
What’s going on, Liv?” Jon asks as
he walks in tentatively, ignoring the apartment employee.  He
eyes both me and Abram.

“
It’s okay, Francisco.”  My
boots click noisily on the hardwood floor as I walk toward Jon,
straight into his open arms.  I hold him tighter than he holds
me.

“
Livvy, I’m sorry, but your
parents– Your dad–” Francisco stutters.

“
No, I know.  We’re just
leaving.”

“
Is everything okay?” a uniformed
guard asks from the doorway.

“
This young man needs to be
escorted down–”

“
Francisco, I said we’re
leaving–”

“
Olivia,” Jon says, still ignoring
everyone around us except Abram.  I look up at him to see his
eyes trained in the direction of my agent. “What happened here?”
 Jon touches his fingers to his lips, and I turn around to
notice evidence of my bright red lipstick on the corner of Abram’s
mouth.

“
He kissed me,” I say only
loud enough for him to hear.  I can feel Jon’s body tense up
as the security guard approaches us.

“
Did you want him to?” he asks,
still looking beyond me.  I shake my head.  “Did you kiss
him back?”

“
No!” I exclaim, appalled at his
question.

“
Sir, you need to come with us,”
Francisco announces, but Jon pulls away from the hand that touches
his shoulder and moves with purpose across the room.  I barely
have a chance to turn around to see Jon’s fist make contact with
the left side of my agent’s face.  Francisco and the officer
both rush Jon as Abram crashes to the floor with a loud thud.
 

Jon doesn’t struggle, but the guard still
immobilizes him with handcuffs. “Those aren’t necessary,” I argue,
following them across the room.

“
Have a seat, sir,” the security
officer says, pushing on Jon’s shoulders until he complies, bending
his knees and sliding down the wall with his hands restrained in
front of him. The guard and Francisco return to Abram, whose left
eye is already showing signs of redness and swelling.

“
Are you okay?” Jon asks me,
lifting both of his shackled hands and taking a strand of my hair
between his fingers. The hair slides through, the single curl
bouncing slightly when he lets go. He watches intently as he does
it once more.

“
I’m fine. Why are you here?” I ask
him.

“
You said you were stopping by
here,” he explains quietly. “I thought you’d be alone. I thought it
was an invitation to talk,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “What
happened?”

“
I don’t really know,” I admit. “I
don’t know how it happened. He just told me I was attractive and
kissed me.” I think back to the conversation, wondering if anything
I said may have encouraged him. “Maybe I brought it on myself, with
this dress or–”

“
Olivia, did you want him to kiss
you?” he interrupts to ask me again.

“
Of course not, Jon.”