Up to Me (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY- Cash

I’m too jacked up on adrenaline to sleep.  The closer dawn gets, the more anxious I get about how all this will go down.

I look at the clock.  With no windows, I can’t see the sun coming up, but I know it is. And it makes me think of Olivia, hopefully sleeping peacefully at her mother’s house.  Alone.

The thought of Gavin possibly curled up next to her makes me ill as hell.  With a growl, I throw my arm over my eyes and try to clear my mind.

But it doesn’t work.  I can’t stop thinking about her.

Maybe if I call and let it ring just once…

She isn’t exactly a light sleeper.  One ring shouldn’t wake her if she’s sleeping. But if she’s awake…

I hit the key for the number of her disposable cell and the phone automatically dials hers. 

It rings once and I pause.  Just before I hit the button to hang up, Olivia’s hushed voice comes on the line.

“Hi,” she says simply.  I smile.  I can almost see the shy look on her face as she says it.  And in that one word, I can hear the she’s pleased I called.  Now, I want to drive to her mother’s house, sneak in the window and have slow, quiet sex with her against the wall.

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah.  Can’t sleep.  You either?”

“Nah.  My head won’t shut up.”

“I know the feeling.”

There’s a long silence, during which I’m sure she’s wondering what it is that I want.  Before I can speak, though, she does.

“I’m glad you called actually.  There’s something I want to tell you. It’s something I should’ve said earlier, but I didn’t.  I should’ve. And now I regret that I didn’t.  When we were face to face.  But I’m an idiot, so...”

I smile into the dark.  I’d be willing to bet a thousand bucks that she’s fidgeting with her hair.  She does that when she gets nervous.  And it’s very obvious now, by the speed of her rushed words, that she’s nervous.

“What did you want to say?”  I’m pretty sure I already know.  I know how she feels about me. When she’s not fighting it and not getting lost in the piles and piles of past shit that clog up her thoughts sometimes.  And I would hope that, after everything that’s happened, she knows how I feel.  But she’s a damn woman.  I think they like having things spelled out for them.  Unlike men, they need the words, the definitiveness of them.  Men don’t.  But I wouldn’t mind hearing her say them anyway.

I hear her deep breath and I imagine her squeezing her eyes shut like she’s jumping off a bridge or something.  Taking the leap.  And, to Olivia, it probably feels like pretty much the same thing. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she blurts.

“Please don’t say anything!” she hurries to say before I can speak.  “I don’t want you to feel obligated to say anything in return. I just didn’t want to let you go into this without knowing how I feel, that I’m really trying to leave the past in the past and not let it get inside my head and screw things up between us.”

“I don’t feel obligated to say anything.”

“Oh,” she says, deadpan.  “Well, good.  Because I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

“I won’t.  If I tell you ‘I love you’ it’s because I mean it, not because it’s an expected response.”

“Okay,” she says quietly then, “Oh crap! Mom’s up. I’ve gotta go.  Please be careful today!”

“I will.”

“See you soon?”

“As soon as I know you’re safe.”

“Please let that be soon.”

I laugh. “I’ll do my best to make them bend to my will.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.  You’re pretty good at that.”

“How do you know?”

“You’ve worked your charm on me more than once.”

“Baby, I haven’t even
begun
to charm you yet.  Just wait until you get back.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she murmurs, the smile evident in her tone.

“Damn straight. You’ll hold whatever I tell you to, right?”

“Whatever you say, Colonel,” she teases, referring to our banter when she thought I was Nash.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“Maybe I’ll even salute you when you come for me.”

“I’ll have the salute all taken care of. I’m sure there will be parts of me at perfect attention when I
come
for you.”

“You’re so bad.”

“But only in the good way.”

“Right,” she says softly. “Only in the good way.” 

“Try to get some rest.  I’ll call when I get back.”

“Okay. Talk to you then.”

There’s a pause.  Neither of us wants to say the words. So we don’t.  She simply hangs up.  And I follow suit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- Olivia

If ever there was a small hope I’d get some sleep, it’s gone now. 

Holy crap balls!  I just told Cash I love him!

Well, sorta.  Was what I said a cop-out?  Was that the chicken shit’s version?  Probably.  But at least he got the point before he goes off to make war with some mobsters.  And that’s what I wanted most—for him to know.  My execution just sucked ass.

But that’s not even the most emotional firework-ish part.  That would be what he said to me afterward. 

“If I tell you ‘I love you’ it’s because I mean it, not because it’s an expected response.”

Did he tell me he loves me? Or did he tell me that
if
he loved me, he’d mean it?  Or was he just giving me some background on his I love you M.O.?

What the hell?

The more I think about it, the more I go over each word, the more confusing it becomes.

On autopilot, I dress quickly and run a brush through my hair before I hit the door and head down stairs.  The house is quiet, so I’m careful not to make much noise.  Mom is an early riser. A very early riser.  She likes her morning time to be peaceful and my being here
at all
is one strike against me. I don’t need to do anything more to poke the bear.

“Who dressed you? A six year old?  Your shirt’s on inside out.”

I look down and, sure enough, my t-shirt is on inside out. 

Autopilot, you suck!

I wave her off. “I didn’t turn on the light. I’ll fix it before anyone else gets up.”

As if he’s happy to make a liar out of me, Gavin chooses that exact moment to enter the kitchen.

“Morning, ladies,” he says in his charming accent, his smile wide and pleasant.  No one says anything for a few seconds, which doesn’t seem to bother him one bit.  “Olivia, I can see where you get your looks. You didn’t tell me your mother’s such a beautiful woman.”

The urge to roll my eyes is strong.  But then I start to feel sorry for Gavin. He is
sooooo
barking up the wrong tree!

“Another charmer, I see,” my mother says caustically, eyeing Gavin with disdain.  “Your wiles might work on my daughter, but you needn’t bother with me.  I’m all too familiar with your kind.”

“My kind?” Gavin clearly has no clue what she’s talking about. I probably should’ve forewarned him about Mom.

“Gavin, why don’t you get your shower first?  It won’t take me long to get ready.”

“Are we in a hurry?”

“Well, not really. My first class doesn’t start for a while, but—”

“First class?”

“Yeah.”  At his blank expression, I continue.  “Class.  Classroom.  College.  You know,
school
where I go to
learn
.”

Gavin frowns. “But you’re not going to class today.”

“Um, yes I am.”

“Um, no you’re not.”

“Um, yes I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

He looks pointedly at me and then tips his head slightly toward my mother.  He doesn’t want to state his reasoning in front of her, but she totally misinterprets his action.

“Oh, don’t mind me.  She doesn’t care what I think.  Abuse her all you want.”

“Abuse her?”

“You don’t think keeping her from bettering herself is abuse?  You don’t think ruining her life with your mere presence is abuse?”

“How am I—”

“Mom, that’s not what he’s doing.  Look, it’s a long story.  We can talk about it later.  Right now,” I say, looking pointedly right back at Gavin, “he’s going for a shower while we have coffee.”

I don’t think Gavin particularly
prefers
the way I handled things, but he’s smart enough not to argue in front of my mother. I think he’s catching on to the bug up her ass pretty quickly.

He nods slowly and starts to back out of the kitchen.  “Yeah, I do need a shower.  I have some phone calls to make, too.”

After Gavin makes his uncomfortable exit, Mom and I are left with an equally uncomfortable silence.  It’s not empty, though.  No, it’s filled with all kinds of judgment and condemnation.  She doesn’t have to say a word. It’s all right there on her face, plain as day, for all the world to see. 

I sigh.  “Mom, I know what—”

“Take my car,” she interrupts me to say. 

“What?”

“Take my car.  Go on to school. Don’t let that…person stand in your way.  Be stronger than that, Olivia.”

I won’t even address the fact that she thinks I’m weak.  She’s never really tried to hide her opinion from me.  Or anyone else who might be interested in listening.

“Mom, you don’t know anything about Gavin.  He’s a really good guy.”

“So you’ve said about all the other losers you’ve wasted your life chasing.”

“I haven’t chased them, Mom.  And I haven’t wasted my life.  I’ll be graduating soon.”

“And then going back to help your father, wasting away on that farm.”

“I don’t consider that wasting away.”

“Well, that’s obviously a matter of opinion.  But these boys you keep latching on to.  Olivia…”  She shakes her head in exasperated disappointment.

“Mom, I may have made some poor choices in the past, but that doesn’t mean that every guy who might share some of the same…characteristics I like in a man is the exact same kind of guy.  It’s possible to be a fun-loving person, but still be good and decent and kind.”

“I’m sure it is.  But you never seem to find that kind.”

“I admit that I’ve not had great success in the past, but this guy is different, Mom.  I can feel it.”

“Are you saying you’ve never ‘felt it’ before?  Because I specifically remember us having a similar conversation about at least two of your previous causes.”

“They weren’t ‘causes,’ Mom.” 

Arguing with her is exhausting.

“You called one of them a ‘fixer upper.’  What is that if not a cause? You want to fix these bad boys, Olivia.  You want to change them, make them into something you can live with.  But that’s never going to happen.  Boys like that don’t ever change.  And certainly not for a girl.”

“Some of them can.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.  When one of them proves his love to you, I’ll never argue the point again.  But until then…”

Until them, I’m just the dumbass that keeps falling in the same trap, over and over and over again.

“Do me one favor,” she says, reaching across the island to lay her hand on mine, a very rare show of affection and support. 

“What’s that?”

“Take my car. Go to school.  Prove to me that you’re strong enough to do this, strong enough to take on this kind of man and not buckle.  Not give in and let him ruin your life.  It would make me feel so much better.”

Her expression is actually sincere.  Maybe even a little worried and desperate.  Does she seriously think that I’m so fragile and impressionable that I’ll follow any ol’ loser right over the cliff? 

If I can do this one thing to prove to her I’m not the weakling she thinks I am, then why not?  Maybe it would help things between us, and between her and Cash when she meets him. 

When
she meets him,
I repeat in my head, hanging on to the thought that such a day
will
come.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay.  I’ll take your car. I’ll prove to you that I’m stronger than what you think. That I’m smarter than what you think.”

She smiles, but it’s more satisfied and smug than pleased and proud.  It reminds me that, no matter what I do, there’s probably little chance of ever pleasing her.  Yet I feel compelled to try. 

“I won’t even fuss about what you’re wearing, but I do want you to turn your shirt right side out first.”

“I will.  Give me a few minutes. I need to brush my teeth and clean up a little better.”

“That’s fine.  I’ll get you the keys and you can leave whenever you want.”

I nod and smile, trying not to think about how furious Gavin will be when he finds out I ditched him.  It’s not like it’s a big deal, though. I mean, I’ll be at school, surrounded by hundreds of witnesses.  The only way I could be any safer is if I was hiding a ninja bodyguard up my butt.

Mom brings me the keys then turns to the toaster and a bag of wheat bread lying to its left.  Without so much as a word to me, she starts making toast, the same thing she’s had for breakfast every day for the last thousand years.

Quietly, I slip off the stool and make my way back upstairs.  Sometimes I wonder why I even care what she thinks.

I pause on the steps when I realize that what I’m doing has very little to do with what Mom thinks of me, or changing it.  Things have been this way between us for years.  No, this has everything to do with her trusting my judgment enough to see that Cash is a good guy, that I’ve finally found someone that’s worthy in her eyes.  I want her to see that.  Not for my sake, but for Cash’s.  He doesn’t deserve her bias.  It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with my mistakes, her mistakes and her inability to forgive or forget either.

My determination grows with my epiphany. Yes, I’ll do this.  And I’ll show her that finding and dating Mr. Wrongs doesn’t mean I’m incapable of finding Mr. Right.  It simply means that I’ve had lots of practice learning to work my bullshit detector. If anything, I think that makes me a professional.

I snicker at my logic.  And at the use of the term “professional.”  Mom would die if she could hear my thoughts. She’d swear I’m a prostitute.

I’m looking at all this as a
good
thing.  And the fact that I’m thinking of a future with Cash
has to be
a good sign.  That means he’ll get through this just fine and we’ll have a chance to see where life takes our relationship.  To me, it’s worth exploring.  Cash is worth any risk.

As I pass the guest bathroom, I hear the shower kick on.  Gavin is just getting started.  Quickly, I hurry to my room, grab my bag and head for the second guest bath.  I squirt toothpaste on my toothbrush, stick it in my mouth and strip down before turning on the shower.  I hate going anywhere without a shower. I can be in and out in a flash. If I dress at the speed of light, I can take my bag with me and put on some mascara and lipgloss on the way. I know that’s frowned upon, but the roads should be fairly empty at this hour.

Blasting through a hurried hair wash, scrubbing my teeth as I rinse then hitting the high spots with my washcloth and a bar of Mom’s expensive soap, I’m hopping out of the shower and toweling off before you can say spit.

I hurry to give my armpits a swipe with deodorant, give my neck a spray of perfume and dress in the same clothes I wore for ten seconds this morning, only this time putting them on right side out.

“Can’t be embarrassing my tight-assed mother, now can I?” I mumble to the mirror.

I push my feet into my shoes, throw my bag over my shoulder and drag my fingers through the tangles in my hair as I tiptoe past the guest bath. 

I pause to listen and can still hear the water running.  I resist the urge to pump my fist. I’m not sure why, but I feel like I’ve just won some sort of competition worthy of headlines.

“Ovaries beat out testicles in speed shower match.”

I roll my eyes at my inane train of thought.  I think my mother must’ve taken drugs when I was in utero.  That’s surely the only explanation.

I hit the stairs and don’t stop until I’m pulling out of the driveway in my mother’s Escalade. Less than thirty minutes later, I’m pulling into a parking spot outside the hall my first class is in.  I don’t want to go in too early, mainly because I’m not sure what time they open the lecture halls in the morning.  I decide to break over and call Ginger.  I haven’t talked to her since everything sort of…exploded.

Her voice sounds scratchy and groggy when she answers.  “There better be a strip-o-gram on its way to me for a call this early.  What the hell?”

I grin.  “Wake up, sleepy head.  It’s me.”

That perks her up some.  “Liv?”

“It’s alive! It’s alive!” I tease.

“If you promise not to like it too much, I’m gonna spank the shit out of you next time I see you.  What time is it?”

“Too early for you to be up.  Sorry, but I don’t have much choice.” 

“It’s never too early for you, my sweet.”  She partially covers her yawn.  “Who’s phone are you calling from?  Did you find a third penis to add to the mix?”

“Oh God, no!  Ginger!”

“What?  I was just gonna congratulate you on your mad fornication skills.  That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.  Sure you were.”

“Who am I to judge how you get your freak on?  Just as long as you get it on.”

“I don’t have a freak to
get
on, Ginger.”

“And that’s a damn shame.  One of those twins ought to be able to introduce you to your freak.  Of course, if they need teachin’, don’t forget my number.”

“Speaking of the twins…”

“Please, God, tell me that segue means you’re about to give me details!”