The Game Changer (4 page)

Melody didn’t know what to say. Rick hardly ever noticed what she was wearing, so she figured it didn’t really matter how she dressed. She had nice clothes for work—pant suits, and sometimes even sophisticated skirt suits—but she had stopped trying to be sexy a long time ago.

When she remained silent, Olivia carried on. “Sexy is more than just an outward appearance,” she said, laying her hand over top of Melody’s and giving it a squeeze. Melody found herself wondering if Olivia had become a mind reader. But, no, she’d always been good at reading Melody and knowing what she was thinking. “It’s as much internal as it is external. You need to
feel
sexy.”

“I don’t know how,” Melody said quietly.

“Well then you fake it until you figure it out,” Olivia told her. “We’re going to go shopping, and we’ll start from the inside out clothes-wise. There’s nothing like sexy lingerie to make a girl feel amazing. Even when I know nobody’s going to be seeing it but me, I still wear super-sexy bras and panties because it makes me feel great. Look.” She pulled her yoga pants down at the hip to reveal lacy pink underwear. Melody assumed it was a thong, but hoped Olivia wouldn’t drop her pants to give her the full view.

“And I have the bra to match, although I’m not wearing it right now,” Olivia said, tugging her pants back into place. “I checked your drawers, and it’s nice to see that you’ve got a few thongs in there, but we really need to upgrade you from all those cotton panties. I know you don’t like spending money on fancy things, so it’ll be my treat.” She held up a finger when Melody started to protest. “Don’t argue with me.”

Melody was tempted to do just that, but she knew it wouldn’t get her very far, not once Olivia had made up her mind about something. “Fine. Thank you, Liv.”

“What are best friends for?” Olivia walked back to the pile of clothes on the floor and rifled through them. “I want you to pick out what you wanna keep, and we’ll donate the rest to Salvation Army or something.”

Melody nodded and went to kneel on the floor beside Olivia. They created two piles—one of stuff to keep, and another for donations—and Olivia kept up a running commentary of what accessories would go well with what top and what skirt should be shortened.

It wasn’t as painful as Melody anticipated. In fact, it felt almost therapeutic, as though by purging her closet she was somehow purging the negative energy she could feel swirling around them.

“You know, it’s funny how life turns out,” Melody commented as they were putting the clothes to donate in a large garbage bag. “In high school we always thought I would be the first one of all our friends to settle down and get married, because that’s all I really wanted. Now almost all our old friends are getting married, having babies, buying houses, and I just broke up with a jerk I wasted three years on.”

She sighed heavily and crammed more clothes into the bag, almost tearing through the thick plastic.

“Those years weren’t wasted,” Olivia said. “You have a career you enjoy and that you’re good at; how many people can say that? You have a fantastic apartment, and now a fantastic roommate.” She grinned, coaxing a small smile from Melody. “So Rick was a dick. Consider it a learning experience. You know now what you
don’t
want in a guy, and you won’t settle for something because it’s familiar or comfortable.”

Melody nodded slowly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Well, again, that’s what I’m here for. Man, you’re lucky to have me.”

Melody laughed. She tossed a sweater in Olivia’s face, then laughed harder when Olivia screeched as the arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders. “Yeah. I really am lucky.”

CHAPTER 3

On Wednesday when Melody got home from work, Olivia was sprawled on the couch reading. She had gone downstairs to Green Pea’s and bought a wide selection of books from young adult to mystery to romance. “Maybe I’ll be a writer,” she told Melody. “I know most of them have to have a day job at first to support themselves, but I have enough money to live on for at least a year.”

The next afternoon when Melody arrived home, Olivia was in the kitchen, and it looked like there had been an explosion. The sink was overflowing with dirty pots, pans, and baking sheets, the counter was littered with an assortment of baked goods, and there were two more pots bubbling away on the stove.

Olivia stood at the island feverishly chopping carrots into tiny pieces. Her honey-coloured hair was tied back in a sloppy ponytail with loose tendrils falling down her neck and into her eyes. She was wearing a blue and white striped apron over black yoga pants and a pale green tank top, and her face was red from exertion, except for patches that were smudged with flour.

Melody stood in the doorway of the apartment and surveyed the mess with a mixture of horror and amusement. She knew she didn’t have that much cookware, so Olivia must have gone shopping at some point. There also appeared to be new dishes inside the frosted-glass cabinets on the far wall.

Olivia hadn’t heard Melody enter the apartment because a U2 song was blaring from the stereo. Melody couldn’t hear Olivia singing, but her lips were moving, and her hips were swaying slightly in time to the music.

Afraid to startle Olivia when she was wielding that knife—something else that was new, since all of Melody’s knives were in bad shape and needed replacing—she walked slowly into the apartment until she was in Olivia’s line of sight.

“Oh, hey!” Olivia called over the music.

“Hey,” Melody returned, lowering the volume on the stereo until it was background noise. “What’s all this?” She swept her arm in an all-encompassing gesture as she went to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island, directly across from Olivia.

“Well…” Olivia said, grinning and brushing her hair out of her face with the back of her arm. “I’ve been cooking.”

“Umm, I can see that, Liv,” Melody said, lifting the lid on a container and peering at its contents. “Are we having company? Like half of Bellevue or something?”

Olivia laughed. “No. My eyes were hurting from all that reading, so I tried to think of something else to do. I turned on the TV, and Ina Garten was on the Food Network—she’s the Barefoot Contessa, you know who I’m talking about?”

Melody simply nodded and watched as Olivia scooped up the carrots she’d been chopping and added them to a pan of onions that were sizzling on the stove.

“Anyway, she’s amazing. I used to watch her sometimes while I was cooking dinner. I’ve always loved to cook, but it’s no fun cooking for just yourself, so when I was living alone I usually made quick dinners or grabbed something on my way home, right? So, she was making this mushroom lasagna that looked to-die-for, and I’ve been trying to think of meatless meals to mix things up. I don’t want to go completely vegetarian, but I’d like to have at least one or two meals each week without meat.”

Olivia paused and studied Melody for a second. “You think I’ve completely lost it, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” Melody replied, although her head was beginning to spin a little. She couldn’t imagine how Olivia had gone from watching Ina Garten on the Food Network to creating what looked like enough food to feed a third world country. “Meatless meals, excellent idea. Carry on.” She waved a hand at Olivia to continue as she went around the island in search of wine. She had the urge to drink something stronger, but it was only 4:30 in the afternoon.

“Oh wait, try this,” Olivia said, pulling a bottle from the wine cooler. Melody got a glimpse inside the cooler, which usually had two or three bottles of fairly inexpensive wine, but was now full. She watched as Olivia uncorked the wine and poured out two glasses. “The guy at the wine store told me this was popular with girls our age because it’s sweet and fruity. He also recommended different wines to go with the different dishes I told him I was making.”

“Let me guess, then he invited himself to sample some of those dishes?” Melody asked with a smirk, accepting a glass from Olivia. The wine glasses were new, too; these were the stemless kind she’d been eyeing for several months. How on earth did Olivia get so much done in one day?

“Well, yeah.” Olivia giggled and moved back to the stove to stir the mixture of onions and carrots before tossing in some chopped celery Melody hadn’t noticed sitting on the counter. “He was really cute, too. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the mushroom lasagna. So I watched her make it, then I decided I’d like to give it a try—make it for dinner tonight as a surprise since we’ve had take-out every night this week.”

Olivia bustled around the kitchen as she spoke, loading the dishwasher, then stirring the second pot on the stove and tasting the contents before adding a pinch of salt. “So I go to Metro, where I could never afford to shop before, and it’s like food heaven. There’s so much stuff there—a deli, a bakery, fresh seafood, plus all these exotic things I’d never seen in a regular grocery store before, you know? So I go to get the ingredients to make the lasagna, and I get all these other ideas for things I want to make. Sauces and soups and stews and casseroles—all the things I’ve seen on the Food Network or read about in magazines but never had the time to try. By the time I left there, I had a cartful of food. Oh, and that’s where I got the wine, too, at that little wine store they have near the exit.”

Melody smiled to herself as Olivia turned her back to start the dishwasher. She was used to her friend’s long stories, and loved how excited she got while she spoke—her eyes alight, and her hands gesturing wildly. Melody kicked off her shoes and leaned back on the stool, refilling her glass of wine.

“When I got back home—
home
, I just love saying that,” Olivia said with a wide grin that made Melody’s lips tug up in response. “When I got back home and put the groceries away, I realized your pots and pans were in pretty rough shape, so I went down the street to that kitchenware store and bought a whole new set, plus some dishes and glasses I knew you’d like. I kept all your old stuff just in case, though.”

“You’re awesome,” Melody said, holding up the wineglass in her hand. “I love these glasses.”

“I know.” Olivia beamed as if she’d blown and shaped the glass herself. “Then when I came back—and it was
not
easy lugging all that stuff home and up that long flight of stairs, let me tell you—I got started on the cooking, and I loved it so much, it occurred to me that I could do this professionally.”

Ahh
, Melody thought. She knew this was going somewhere. Yesterday a writer, today a chef. Tomorrow, she might decide she wanted to be a yoga instructor, or take up painting. Olivia had always had big dreams, but it was the execution that tended to be a little dodgy. Her real dream in life was to be a fashion designer. She’d started young in home economics class, had taken sewing classes during high school where she made beautiful dresses for herself and Melody, and had gone on to study fashion and design at college.

Her creations were amazing, and she was brilliant with a needle and thread, but Melody thought it was fear that held her back. She knew fashion was a tough, competitive business, and Melody thought Olivia was afraid she would fail, so she did everything
but
what she wanted to do most. She’d come close with her last job working in an upscale boutique where she had a say in the clothes that were ordered, and she assisted in dressing the fashionistas of Toronto, but as far as Melody knew she had set aside her dreams of ever becoming a designer.

As Olivia’s best friend, Melody felt it was her job to support her no matter what. She had given her gentle pushes over the years with varying degrees of success—Olivia had a few girls in Bellevue that she made dresses for on special occasions, thanks to Melody spreading the word—but she didn’t like to push too hard, and it was something they avoided discussing. Even though she knew fashion was Olivia’s first love, Melody also knew Olivia would be great at whatever she did because she was so passionate. She just had to hope that someday Olivia would get over her fear and pursue her dreams.

“You could do it professionally,” Melody agreed. “You’re a terrific cook. But you’d have to go back to school.”

“Ew, that’s true.” Olivia wrinkled her nose. “And I’ve heard that chefs put in crazy hours, and it’s super stressful. I could do catering, though. I could run it right out of here, or even rent a spot.”

“You could…” Melody agreed again. “If that’s what you want to do, you know I’ll support you.”

“I know you will.” Olivia’s smile was so affectionate it made Melody’s heart ache. “But it’s not really what I want to do, and we both know it.” She slumped against the counter as if all the air had gone out of her, and sighed heavily. “I just don’t know, Mel.”

“Oh, honey.” Melody reached out to run a soothing hand over Olivia’s bowed head. “You
do
know, you’re just not quite ready. And that’s fine. You’re in a unique situation right now. You’ve been given a chance to start over, and you have more money than you know what to do with. You can take the time to explore different things and decide if you want them to be a hobby or a career.”