Olivia (41 page)

She stopped the crappy playlist in the middle of a song and started playing the songs of her heart. After a little disco dancing, she shook it up and got a little sultry with Amy Winehouse’s “Valerie,” and when a caller called in and requested a country song, she didn’t tell them the scripted response, “I’m sorry but we don’t play country music.” She popped in “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” by John Denver and the phone lines lit up like the New York skyline.

She played whatever anyone wanted to listen to, no matter the genre. As long as she could shake her ass or clap her hands to it, she played it. The listeners loved it, she loved it, but her boss was not amused. The second she went off-air, he unceremoniously fired her for not following station rules and regulations. She went from ecstatic to suicidal in 2.7 seconds and sat on the hood of her car outside of Kitty’s with her head in her hands and tried to figure out what the hell had happened, and what to do next.

Clete happened by on patrol and when he saw her sitting there, he pulled over. Leaning out the window, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I got fired.”

“From the radio station?” he asked in disbelief. “Why? You did amazing today!”

She shrugged and kept pouting.

“Get in.”

“Why?” she asked without looking at him.

“Just get in the damn car.”

“You’re cussing in idle conversation again.”

“You have that effect on me, Olivia. Now get in the car,” he said.

She slid off the hood of her car and got into the police cruiser. He called in a 10-10, or a 10-42, or a 10-whatever-the-hell-it-was, and they drove outside of the city limits and up a country road, to a one-lane dirt trail that dead-ended at a metal building. It was the creepiest place Olivia had ever been to in her life. As if on cue, a tumbleweed tumbled by and a crow cawed. She narrowed her eyes and snuck a glance at Clete.

“You aren’t going to murder me and chop me up into little bits and leave my pieces for the buzzards, are you?”

“Not as long as you don’t piss me off.”

“You’re still cussing,” she pointed out.

Clete rolled his eyes and got out of the car. Olivia assumed she was supposed to follow him, so she did.

The building was even creepier outside of the car than it had been inside. She hopped closer to Clete and clutched onto his arm, and whimpered. When Clete opened the door and they stepped inside, she suddenly realized she was at another radio station. And not just any radio station—they were at 97.9 The Breeze, aka 97.9 The Weeze, as in the radio station the old geezers listened to. Of course this would be Clete’s choice. He loved the boring shit they played. It was worse than Lite 103.

She started to protest, but he hushed her, and clamped his hand over hers on his arm, giving her no choice but to shut up and follow him into a little office where a very round, very short woman typed furiously on a laptop.

“Better slow down before your fingers catch on fire,” Clete said with a smile.

The woman looked up in irritation, but let out a little gasp of surprise when she saw him. She jumped from her chair and ran around the desk, and Clete wrapped her up in a big bear of a hug.

“Cletus! Oh my goodness you’re looking good these days! Hot, hot, hot I say! What have you done to yourself?”

“Nothing different, I swear. Must be the lighting,” Clete said as let her go.

“Don’t swear. It’s unbecoming,” she scolded him with a swat. Her eyes landed on Olivia and her mouth opened in an ‘O.’ “Lighting, my ass. Maybe it’s this cute little thing you’ve got standing next to you? Huh? Huh?” She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Cletus, you dog you!”

“Kelly Little, this is Olivia Hanson. Olivia is looking for a job, and she’s perfect for your new station.”

“Oh, really?” She looked Olivia over head-to-toe. “You have any experience in radio?”

“A few days,” Olivia said.

“A few days?” Kelly guffawed, but then she squinted her eyes and leaned in closer to Olivia. “Your voice sounds familiar. Were you on Lite 103 this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Olivia answered in shame.

“You’re hired. Be here tomorrow at eleven. You go on right after the farm report and work until seven. Long hours, I know, but there’s only three of us. You make number four. Welcome aboard.” Kelly waved her off and returned to her laptop.

“Um…” Olivia looked at Clete and then back at Kelly.

“What?” Kelly demanded.

“It’s just that… well… I, uh,” Olivia stuttered.

“Spit it out,” Kelly demanded.

“I’m sorry, but I hate your station,” Olivia admitted. She looked to Clete and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to that stuff all day long. I won’t do that to myself.”

Olivia apologized again and started for the door. Kelly called after her, “Have you listened to our station lately?”

“No.”

“We play everything—except that black metal crap. Play whatever you want but keep it clean. We got kids listening,” Kelly said with a wave and sat in her chair. “I liked the mix you did today. You need to talk more, though. You’ve got a cute radio voice, so take advantage of it. And that face… Cletus, my god… that
face!
” Kelly snapped her fingers then slapped her desk. “She’s going on a billboard.”

With that Kelly picked up the phone and punched in a number with the eraser end of a pencil. “Rachel? It’s Kelly. Swing by tomorrow with your camera. I need print ads… yeah… uh-huh… right. Bye.”

She didn’t look back up at Olivia, but she said, “Be here at ten instead for pictures. And maybe try to run a comb through your hair. Rachel’s a whiz at Photoshop, but no one’s that good, darling.”

“Uh… ok,” Olivia agreed and Clete dragged her out of the office and back to the cruiser.

“Kelly used to be our dispatch operator until she sunk her life’s fortune into this little radio station.” Clete put the car in reverse and turned in his seat to see where he was going as he backed down the dirt road. “She’s a bit of a tornado, but she’s good. You’ll get used to her energy.”

“Yeah,” Olivia said on a heavy exhale.
Wow
. Tornado was right. That woman was a force of nature. Olivia was going to need a lot of coffee in the morning to keep up with her. What a crazy day. She didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“You hungry?” Clete asked.

Do pigs oink? Hell, yeah, she was hungry. Olivia shrugged, “I could use a burger or something.”

“How about something better for you?”

“Kale?” Olivia asked with a wrinkle of her nose.

Clete laughed. “I was thinking grilled tuna.”

“Ribs?” Olivia countered.

“Chicken?” Clete offered.

“Fried?” Olivia hoped.

“Grilled,” Clete decided.

“You have an obsession with fire or something?” Olivia asked.

Clete laughed and drove her to his house where Allie was home with a sitter. Allie jumped to her feet at the sight of Olivia, and dragged her into her bedroom. While Clete cooked, Olivia and Allie lay on Allie’s bedroom floor and discussed important, world-changing topics like bangs or no bangs, who was hotter, Drake or Josh, and how, if the sky were suddenly purple instead of blue, it would be cool for about a day, and then it would be the boring old sky again, and they’d be wishing it was orange instead.

Dinner was served and a chocolate cake sat on the counter calling Olivia’s name, but no matter how many times she tried, Olivia couldn’t choke down her Brussels sprouts. Clete and Allie ate all of theirs, and Clete gave Allie a piece of cake as a reward then sent her to get ready for bed and school in the morning.

Olivia and Clete settled in the living room and talked while Allie bathed, and then Olivia and Allie teamed up against Clete to let Allie stay up just five minutes longer, “
Pa-leeeeease!
” Clete gave in, then sent her to bed with a hug and kiss exactly five minutes later. He was definitely a stickler for the rules, but Allie didn’t seem to mind.

“You want something to drink?” Clete asked after Allie was tucked in.

“Milk to go with that piece of cake you forgot to offer me,” Olivia said with a smile.

“You didn’t eat all of your dinner.” Clete returned her smile.

“You made Brussels sprouts on purpose.” Olivia smiled bigger.

“Who, me?” Clete denied, but his eyes were twinkling.

“So…” Olivia tipped her head toward the kitchen and batted her eyelashes. “Cake?”

Clete caved and sliced her a piece, and she ate it with a glass of milk while they talked some more. An hour later, she accepted his offer for a beer and soon the coffee table was full of their empties.

She talked to Clete more that night sitting on his sofa than she had in all the days she had stayed at his house, and it left her wondering why in the world she hadn’t curled up on the sofa and talked to him before. He was somewhat chatty at the bar, but still kind of stiff and formal. At home, when he relaxed, he turned into an interesting guy with even more interesting stories. After a few beers, he was also a deep well of juicy gossip. He knew everyone and everything… and he smelled really good, too.

As they talked, they moved closer to each other on the sofa. A little shift by her, an unconscious move by him, closer and closer they moved, until they were inches apart, turned toward each other, with his hand on her thigh and hers on his arm. Before Olivia knew it, it was well past midnight and well past time for her to leave, and even though she didn’t want to and he seemed reluctant for her to go, she said goodnight to Clete and walked the few blocks back to Kitty’s.

The bar was closed, the employees long gone, and George was finishing up cleaning when she walked in.

“I was starting to worry about you.” He slid a tub of glasses onto the shelf under the bar. “Your car’s been outside all night,”

“I’m sorry, it was a crazy night. I got fired and got a new job and Clete invited me over for dinner and we got to talking and I wasn’t paying attention to the time,” Olivia explained in a rush.

“You got fired?” George asked. “Why?”

“Because it wasn’t the right place for me. But Clete hooked me up with this lady, Kelly, at The Breeze and I start tomorrow and she’s going to let me play whatever I want—which reminds me, I need to call Izzie so she can do my hair. They’re going to put me on a billboard, George!” Olivia smiled. “Can you believe that shit?”

“No.” George laughed.

“Hush you.”

“Clete made you dinner?”

“Yep.”

“Did you eat all your vegetables,” George asked with a wicked grin.

“No,” Olivia said drawing out the word and rolling her eyes. “But he let me eat cake anyways.”

“Well, good for him.” George finished wiping down the bar, and then held out his hand and said, “Let’s go home.”

She slipped her hand into his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

When they got back to the apartment, George grabbed a quick bite to eat then headed for the shower, and Olivia started to pace in circles. Her day was beginning to sink in and it was almost too much to wrap her brain around. Big changes were happening and it felt like something even bigger was hovering out there on the horizon, itching to explode.

She paced faster as her anxiety grew, the living room seeming to shrink with each rotation. She started to feel claustrophobic and switched to sitting on the balcony, chain-smoking and knee-bouncing like Eugene, but that didn’t do any good either. If anything, it made it worse. She went back inside, ripped open the closet doors, dug through her clothes to find something to wear for picture day, and started to freak.

Olivia tended to freak, that’s for sure. She freaked over everything, even the small stuff, but she hardly ever got nervous about anything
before
it actually happened. Being nervous required forethought, which was a skill Olivia lacked and had intentionally avoided learning. But something about being fired smacked into reality how much she actually loved being a DJ. It was exactly who she was, and she didn’t want to lose out on the opportunity again. Her first day at The Breeze had to be perfect in every way so Kelly wouldn’t have any reason to let her go.

George slipped his arms around her from behind as she stood in front of the pile of clothes she had thrown out of the closet in frustration. “What’s the matter, Baby Girl?”

He was fresh from the shower and still damp, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. Usually that alone was enough to make her forget her troubles and arouse another part of her brain, but that night her brain stayed focused on the freak-out, the butterflies dancing a samba around her stomach just like they had at Easter time.

“What should I wear tomorrow?” she asked. “I have nothing! Everything I own is crap.”

She didn’t follow fashion trends. Ever. She didn’t see the point in it. Her entire wardrobe consisted of t-shirts, and most of the ones she currently owned she had purchased at the Salvation Army right after the fire. Every single one of them was juvenile and just plain stupid and totally inappropriate for an adult. She couldn’t very well go into work in the morning and expect Kelly to put up a billboard with her wearing a grass-stained and faded My Little Pony t-shirt that she had bought for a quarter at a garage sale simply because it was pale yellow and matched her bright yellow track pants.

“Just be yourself,” George said. He let go of her and started to dig through the pile of clothes. “Where’s that poop t-shirt I love so much? You could wear that one.”

“It burned up in the fire.”

“What about your dress from Easter? You looked damn good in that.”

“I ruined it in the wash.”

“You washed it? Liv, that was dry-clean-only.”

“Well, I know that
now!
” Olivia flopped face-down on the bed and whined into her hands, “I don’t want my face on a billboard, George. My ugly mug’ll cause another pile-up on the highway and Reggie’ll drop me for sure!”

“No, it won’t. Give yourself some credit.” He crawled on top of her on the bed, rolling her over so she was face-up beneath him. “You’re beautiful and you know it. Whatever you wear will be perfect. You’re worrying for nothing.”

“Maybe I should go shopping in the morning,” Olivia said.

“You can if you want, but I don’t think you need to.”