Page 28

OLIVIA

After an early morning at my friend Oakley’s studio, I treat myself, Amelia and Kerry to a few spa treatments and a trip to the salon. Which I’m glad I did because after being holed up trying to get my book finished, I was in dire need of a facial, a deep tissue massage and, of course, a fresh haircut and color. It’s the charity event tonight so we’re sipping bubbly, having our makeup done and getting dressed at my place. Charlotte is going with the guy she went on a date with from the office who, as it turns out, isn’t so bad after all. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous. Just once, I’d like to meet someone, go on dates and feel normal. Wanted. I shake it off, and try focus on my two friends here with me, their excitement and the fun I should be having. Instead, I’m wondering if there’s still a way to get out of going to this thing. I doubt these two would let me get away with it, but my exit plan is in place so I can leave as soon as it’s socially acceptable.

No one will notice I’m gone once they’re all having fun, they never do. I often slip away from wine nights, or get togethers and no one notices until I’m long gone.

“You look hot,” Amelia says to me. Because it’s winter I opted for a slightly less traditional option, the black satin and lace jumpsuit is elegant and sexy with a neckline that ends just below my breasts, and long sleeves. It fits me like a second skin, and paired with heels and jewelry, it’s going to turn heads, and provide the publicity photos my publisher is after. However, I will not freeze my tits off all night. “Now I wish I chose that.” Amelia circles me, inspecting the finished product. My crazy, wild hair is pinned up by a thousand bobby pins and enough hairspray to make a new hole in the ozone layer. Slick and smooth like my clothing, and absolutely nothing like me any other time. Cecilia is looking back at me in the full length mirror, not Olivia. Sometimes I love her and want to be her — other times I hate this part of my life.

“Remember, tonight I’m Cecilia, not Liv or Olivia. Please can we not drunk-ruin the cover I’ve managed to keep up for eight years.” Kerry laughs, I’m not so worried about these two, but Dion has no brain-to-mouth filter, and Charlotte might forget, but I’ll text her from the car.

“You don’t look like a Cecilia, but we’ve discussed that before,” Amelia giggles, she hates my pen name almost as much as I do. “CeeCee,” she teases, and I want to throw something at her. They take a few selfies of us together and we clink glasses. Kerry looks beautiful, and Amelia looks like she always does, effortlessly elegant until she opens her mouth and a cuss falls out. I’m glad I could spoil them with a day like today, especially Kerry. Sometimes, being wealthy has its advantages, and being able to give my friend something she can’t afford to give herself is one of those advantages.

“Let’s go.” We’re already running late, and the car is waiting. The champagne has taken the edge off my anxiety, but I’d best not drink too much tonight. My agent would piss her panties if anything inappropriate showed up in the media, especially since I almost never do any sort of public appearances. When I do, I have to be the perfect, pretty, and presentable — I am my brand. It’s the biggest reason I hate venturing out anywhere that I have to be Cecilia. I can’t let loose and be myself, in which case I’d rather be home alone watching a cheesy romantic movie on the couch.

“This is so exciting,” Kerry says as we drive away from the safety net that is my home. I’m not excited, I’m anxious. And the closer we get to the venue, the bigger the knot in my stomach grows. At this rate, I’ll be stuck in the bathroom with the shits. Which, if I think about it, is almost preferable to being in a room full of people, strangers or not.

“I know, a real fancy affair tonight. I’m surprised Dion allowed us to attend,” Amelia laughs. If anyone is going to be less than fancy it will be Dion. Our friend doesn’t have her shit together. Not that any of us do, but she lets it show, waving her hot mess around like a flag. I can’t do that. Amelia and Kerry chatter all the way to the hotel while I sit in silence and count the street-lamps as we pass them. Just as we pull up to the entrance, Amelia, who knows I’m struggling, squeezes my hand in silent support. I take a deep breath, plaster on my very best fake smile, and step out of the car. There are some photographers taking pictures, and I knew there would be with guests like Oakley and her boyfriend, Sebastian Flynn, on the list. My one and only life line is that I know my psychologist is going to be here too, and if I do have a meltdown I can find her in the crowd. We’re ushered inside to the grand venue where there’s music playing, and the sound of people talking and laughing is like the hum of white noise.

“Oh, my. It is fancy,” Kerry says and I can tell she is self-conscious. This isn’t exactly her crowd. She’s a single mom from suburbia who works two jobs to support herself and her daughter, and even that doesn’t always see her through the month. I’ve offered to help them numerous times, just between her and I, but she’s always refused. Charlotte spots us, and comes over with her date. The first thing I notice is that he’s much shorter than her, and tall is number one on her check list — so he must have a ton of money, be super smart and good in bed. Charlotte says a man has to have three out of four, and he’s short. Her height makes it hard to find any man taller than her, hence the rule of four.

“You three look amazing,” she gushes. “This is Andrew, my date.” She says it like he’s a pet poodle on show, and I have an instant dislike for him when he tries to hug me. I’m quick to stop him by stretching my hand out between us and ignore his quizzical expression. For my own sanity, I have to do whatever it takes to protect my personal bubble, especially on a night like this.

“We’re all sitting different places, we’re with a few of our clients. Amelia, you and Kerry are with Dion and Mika. Li— Cecilia, you’re with the literary crowd I presume? I didn’t recognize the names at your table.” Great. I’m alone, with strangers in a room filled with people. I will not freak and run away. I will not freak and run away. This is a living nightmare, why did I say yes? I should have lied to get out of it ages ago. Everyone mingles for a while still, and we find Dion and Mika who, as usual, looks like he should be on the cover of my next book. They introduce me to the team from the shelter and some of the event organizers. Not Dion’s usual crowd, and probably more likely to be found in my circles. I say hello (again) to Oakley, and her business partner, Channing, who both compliment my outfit, and make a lighthearted joke about who I’m wearing. Holland winks at me when she catches my eye from across the room, and suddenly my anxiety spikes. Not because there are so many people, but because all of them are coupled up, and my singleness is glaringly obvious. That void, the giant gaping hole I keep wishing I could plug, is on show. No one is going to get me a drink, or pull out my chair. The single goldfish lady with anxiety and a strange job that no one takes seriously.

“Excuse me,” I say, and look for the nearest ladies’ room. Bowing my head, I walk as fast as I can and disregard the commentary when I bump into a few people on the way. I just need to get out, and take a moment to pull myself together and remind myself it doesn’t matter. It matters. I shut the door on the stall and sit down on the closed toilet — no way am I going to pee. Getting this outfit off is a full strip job, I’ll hold it if needs be. I close my eyes, and practice the breathing exercises that Holland taught me, I remind myself I’m whole. Just as I am. I don’t know how long I sit there, but it’s better than being out there. My phone vibrates in my clutch.

You okay?

It’s from Holland, I think she saw me running.

Yeah. A little overwhelmed.

Need me to come find you?

No, I’ll be okay in a minute. Just needed to breathe ;)

I know she knows I’m lying, but this is her down time and I’m determined to not ruin her night — or anyone else’s. I stand up, breathe in and hold it a few seconds extra before I let it out. I fix my hair in the mirror and wash my hands in cold water to try stop myself from nervous sweating. I can do this, it’s one night. One. Night.

When I return, most people have taken their seats, and a passing waitress hands me a champagne flute. I count the tables, I know I’m at number nine. Scanning to see it’s not far, I move around the outside of the room so it’s not obvious that I missed the call to take our seats. Three paces from the table,I look at the guests, and my eyes lock with the person sitting next to the only open seat — my seat — and it’s him. Harlan Waters is sitting at my table, not just at my table but next to me. My mind flashes back to the last time he sat beside me and I stop walking and just stare at him. If Dion did this on purpose I’ll have no problem killing her in her sleep. I swear to God. He looks just as stunned as I do. The deep frown lines on his forehead, and his stiff posture tell me he’s not happy about this either. I approach my seat at a slower pace, and quietly take my seat trying not to interrupt any of the conversations going on around the table.

“Oh, my God!” the woman beside him who I recognize as his sister says when she sees me. “It’s — it’s you. Ol—” Cheezus. No.

“Cecilia, nice to meet you.” I smile at her, hoping no one notices the name slip.

“Sorry, I’m so excited. I didn’t think you’d be here. You’re never anywhere — I mean… Shit.” She takes a breath to calm down. “I’m Birdie,” she says. “And you met my brother, Harlan, once before I believe.” Her wicked smile and his reaction are all I need to know that she knows. Birdie. Bird. It was his sister, not his person. Reality is like a bucket of ice-cold water to my face. Shit. Shit. Shit. I left for no reason, he must hate me.

“Nice to meet you, Birdie.” I finally remember I’m in company, not a story inside my head. “And it’s nice to see you again, Mr Waters.” I greet Harlan, who’s just glaring at me like I tripped him on the playground.

“Lovely to see you, Cecilia,” he grits out, our joint discomfort over the unexpected turn of events palpable. No matter how awkward this is, my body remembers things it shouldn’t and just sitting beside him has me hot and bothered. I flag down a passing waitress, and whisper, “Could I get a double gin and tonic, please.” Because, fuck my life, I’ll need a drink to get through this.

“I just love your books,” Birdie says. If she can feel the tension between me and her brother, she doesn’t show it.

“Me too,” Harlan adds. “Especially the new one. It’s so real.” He looks straight through me into my soul and I want to crawl under the table and die right there. He’s angry about it. He read it. He knows things. He knows how I feel. I can’t breathe. I inhale the gin and ask for a refill immediately. I want to die a thousand deaths, and because my body hates me and my anxiety, I’m starting to sweat like I just ran a marathon. I can’t even form words to respond to that. His sister is blushing red, trying to hide her giggle, and we’ve now caught the attention of other guests at the table.

Please Lord, let me have a heart attack and die. Now, now would be good — I’m totally ready to go.