Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Olivia
Change is painful, but nothing is as painful
as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong.
~ Mandy Hale
The corners of Logan’s eyes crinkle up just the slightest. Oh, no he’d better not be suppressing a grin. What was that, anyway? Darwin came to talk to us, then he pulled Logan aside for a little pep talk or good old boys chat. It was so obvious he was singling Logan out for something extra.
Six years.
I’ve had six beautiful, successful, Logan-free years at Barnes.
Six years in which I was appreciated, promoted, given raises, acknowledged as the best at what I do. Logan’s been here a week, and he’s being pulled into private chats by the boss.
Nope.
Not this time.
I meant what I said. This time, he’s going down.
I turn away from his smirky face and those deceptively captivating eyes and casually walk toward the door leading into the hallway from the common workspace. I’m not marching away—well, on the inside I am. But on the outside, I’m a confident woman, intentionally on her way … somewhere else.
Logan calls my name from behind me, but I pretend I have noise-cancelling AirPods in my ears. La-la-la … I can’t hear your baritone voice calling out my name as if we’re colleagues and you need me to turn around and collaborate.
I know better. As soon as I capitulate and let my guard down, Logan will walk away with everything, leaving me in the dust, forgotten and overlooked. I don’t need to be first. I do need to not lose—to him—ever again.
I step into the hallway and look around. I don’t know where I’m going. I simply need to get away from Logan and the way his presence quietly fills a room, drawing all eyes to himself without a drop of effort.
There’s a supply closet straight across from me where we keep toner, reams of paper, and other office supplies. I dash inside without a second thought, pulling my phone out of my pocket and clicking Lynette’s number as I go. The door closes behind me with a satisfying snick. I’m separated and secluded from Logan for now. I breathe my first full breath since Darwin pulled Logan aside.
My phone rings on the other end—and rings. I pull my cell away from my ear. What time is it anyway? 11:15 a.m. Gah. Lynette’s still in class, her phone on silent. She should be going to lunch in fifteen minutes. I can wait. I’ll just call Megan. I dial her number, and she picks up immediately.
“Hey, Olivia! What’s up?”
I lower my voice for some reason, even though I’m tucked away in this closet. It’s dark in here, the only light coming from the crack under the door. Edges of shelving and supplies blur in the darkness. Through the shadows I can barely tell one object from another. I make my way to a large box near the wall and sit down. It sags a little but holds up after the initial dip.
“Logan. Logan freaking Alexander. That’s what’s up. We’ve been assigned to the same project.”
I vent to Megan, explaining how Darwin pulled Logan aside and how I warned Logan that he’s going down.
“I mean it, Megs. I’m not going to lose to him again.”
“Of course you’re not. But Olivia?”
“What?” My voice echoes through the closet. I’m no longer being quiet.
“Isn’t your specialty in one area of content development and his in another?”
“Yeah.”
“So, this isn’t really a contest, is it?”
“That’s a minor technicality. With Logan, somehow everything turns into a contest. And he ends up shining, and I end up looking like a shadow of whatever he is.”
I sound desperate, even to my own ears.
“I know. I know.” Megan’s voice is mostly consoling, an ounce of patronizing just under the surface. “You’re experiencing a classic trauma response.”
“Exactly!” I shout. “I’ve been traumatized!”
“Olivia?” That distinctive baritone calls my name through the door.
“No,” I answer like a fool.
“No, what?” Megan asks me.
“I’m talking to the door, not you.”
“You’re talking to a door? This is worse than I thought.”
Logan continues to call my name. “Olivia? What are you doing in the supply closet?”
I ignore him, hoping he’ll think he imagined my response. I lower my voice to a whisper. “Megan, I’m in the supply closet.”
“What? Why are you in the supply closet talking to a door? Do I need to take an early lunch? Do you feel dizzy? What day is it? Who’s the president? Do you remember the name of our first-grade teacher?”
“I know what day it is, and I don’t feel dizzy. And Mrs. Beezy was our first-grade teacher. I’m not confused. I dashed in here to get a minute to myself after Darwin basically initiated Logan into his secret success society.”
“I heard you,” Logan says.
“You don’t know what Darwin did,” Megan says. “Maybe he was saying ‘I’ve got my eye on you …’ in a You’d better watch out kind of way.” She starts humming Santa Claus is Coming to Town .
“Olivia? I heard you. Are you in there?” Logan jiggles the door handle.
“No! Leave me alone. I need some privacy.”
“Talking to the door?” Megan asks.
“To Logan. On the other side of the door.”
Megan says something to a coworker. Then she says, “Listen, Olivia. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you as soon as I get out of work. I’ll bring Chinese takeout and we’ll discuss all this over dinner.”
Logan jiggles the doorknob again.
“See you tonight!” Megan shouts into the phone, and then she hangs up.
It’s right at this moment that I realize Logan wouldn’t be jiggling the handle if he were able to twist it open.
“Olivia?”
“Logan?”
“Why are you locked in the supply closet?”
“Locked in?”
“Can you unlock it from inside?” His voice is concerned but in a superior way, like he’d never lock himself in a supply closet.
“I’m good.”
I’m not good. I don’t like being out of control, and I definitely don’t like being locked in small dark spaces. And most of all, I don’t like being locked in small spaces while the bane of my existence gloats outside the door.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yep. Top of my game. Totally good. Just getting some … toner.”
“Toner?” His voice is incredulous.
“Yes. For printing.” I turn my phone flashlight on and wave it around to illuminate my surroundings. “Ah. There it is! Got it.”
“Okay. Come on out.”
“I, uh … have to look for … some other supplies. I’ll meet you … in the workroom.”
“Are you locked in?” Logan asks. Again with the faux concern.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Olivia.” He sounds so pompous. Like he’s the one outside the door while I’m stuck in here. Which he obviously is. But that doesn’t make him better than me, just because he’s not locked in a closet at this moment.
“Logan.”
“Olivia.”
“Logan.”
“Everything okay?” Gah. It’s Darwin.
“Oh … um. Yes,” Logan answers Darwin. “I’m just … planning lunch. Want anything?”
“How thoughtful,” Darwin says. “What are you ordering?”
“I thought I’d get sandwiches from Relish.”
“I’ll take a hot pastrami.” Darwin pauses. “And barbecue chips.”
“Got it,” Logan answers. “I’ll just … get the rest of the orders.”
“Thanks, Logan. Way to take initiative and bring the team together.”
I can’t help myself. I mouth the words right after Darwin says them, mocking his facial expression in the privacy of the closet.
Way to take initiative . Myeh, myeh, myeh, myeh, myeh .
Of course something so mundane as ordering sandwiches for the team is considered exemplary when Logan does it.
Darwin must have walked away because Logan starts talking to me again.
“Hang in there, Olivia. I’m going to find a janitor. Do you need sustenance while you wait? Should I pass you a protein bar?”
“I’m good, Logan. Like I said, I’m just gathering supplies.”
“Right. Okay. Supplies, yeah.”
He didn’t out me to Darwin. I do appreciate that.
I turn on my cell again and shoot Charlie a text.
Me : Locked in the supply closet. The one outside the workroom. Can you come get me out?
Charlie : Seriously? How did you manage that? On my way.
Me : I just walked in. It locked behind me.
Charlie : Never a dull moment. I’ll grab the keys and be right there.
Me : If Logan’s outside the door, pretend you aren’t here to rescue me.
Charlie : Got it.
A few moments later, I hear Charlie saying something to Logan and Logan answering him. I can’t make out the words. Then there’s a key in the door, and light floods in.
“My hero!” I say in an overly dramatic voice when Charlie’s smiling face appears in the doorway. And I must make some dramatic movement with my hand or body because the box I’m sitting on implodes, sucking me in like a napkin being inhaled by a vacuum tube.
Charlie is mid-bow, saying, “My pleasure, milady,” in an equally dramatic fashion.
Logan stops at the door of the closet just in time to see me poking out of this box, my legs dangling out over the edge and my arms overhead like I’m a budding shoot trying to unearth herself in the sunlight.
His face goes through a rapid slideshow of expressions … shock, quasi-concern, arrogance, and finally stoic neutrality. We stare one another down while Charlie quietly watches. I’m daring Logan to say something, anything.
He doesn’t back down. He holds my gaze, and in the coolest of voices, he says, “I’m taking sandwich orders.”
Charlie says, “She likes the Grinder,” at the same time as I say, “I don’t need you to bring me lunch.”
I’d lower my arms and try to get out of my boxed-in situation, but I’m afraid any movement will make me look like I’m reenacting my own birth—which I absolutely don’t want to do in front of Logan while he stands there with the smug look of someone who finished being born twenty-eight years ago.
“Logan’s ordering for everyone on the new project … and for Darwin,” Charlie says. “Lunch is on Logan.”
I mutter, “Of course it is.”
Charlie walks toward me to help me out of this box.
His expression says I’m being unnecessarily difficult.
“Fine. He can buy me lunch,” I huff out.
Logan mercifully nods once and walks away instead of sticking around to witness Charlie wrestle me to my feet while I’m still bent at the waist, the box molded to my backside. Charlie pries the cardboard from my rear end, and I’m finally free.
“Thank you, Charlie. You’re the best.”
“And you’re the most entertaining.”
I close my eyes and let out a long breath.
Charlie adds, “And also the best. Seriously. Don’t let him get to you. You’re better than that. And everyone here knows it.”
Leave it to Logan to butter up the team. Such a showboater. I don’t need to stoop to bribes from one of the best delis in town. My coworkers already know and love me. Soon enough they’ll see past the veneer of Logan’s so-called generosity. At least, I hope they will.
That evening, just as she promised, Megan stops by with take-out Chinese. We’re sitting around my coffee table eating straight out of the containers with chopsticks.
“There’s nothing like Kung Pao to soften the blow of a hard day at work,” I say through a bite.
“And chow mein,” Megan adds.
“Definitely,” I agree, reaching across the table to grab a bite of noodles.
“Well …” Megan says with a certain twinkle in her eye that tells me she’s up to mischief. “I took the liberty of doing something on your behalf.”
“What?”
“Nope. I’m not giving you the details. You’ll just have to see.”
“Megs.”
“Hmm?”
“You can’t just tell a person you took the liberty of doing something and then not tell what that something is.”
“Okay, okay.” She waggles her eyebrows and smiles a devious grin. “There should be a delivery arriving for a certain neighbor of yours.”
“Megan, what did you do?”
“Just consider it turn-about for the slime in your locker.”
“In high school? I already retaliated for that. Remember the itching powder?”
“Well, then, consider it his karma for taking that apartment.”
“Logan didn’t know it was Gran’s place. How could he have known I wanted it?”
Megan makes a pouting face. “Are you on his side now?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just … I don’t want to stir the pot. We’re not in high school anymore—or even college. We don’t need to be pranking one another. We’re grown adults.”
“And you’re not pranking one another. I am. For you. Relax. He won’t suspect you at all. It will just be a moment of delight for you after all the adjusting you’ve had to do since he came back—and after humiliating yourself by getting stuck in a closet … and a box.”
“I thought you said I didn’t humiliate myself.”
“Right. Exactly. Soo … anyway.”
My neighbor’s parrot squawks, “Fish! Something’s fishy! Fishy!”
“What are you squawking about?” I shout toward the wall I share with that apartment.
“I think it’s here!” Megan squeals with childlike glee.
“What’s here?”
“The surprise. Come on!” Megan jumps up and runs to my door. She waits for me to walk over and then she cracks the door open. We peek out like racoons in a trench coat, Megan ducking low so I can see over the top of her head.
I look across the open lounge area toward Logan’s side of the second floor. There doesn’t seem to be a thing going on over there.
The distinctive smell of seafood wafts toward my apartment.
I turn my head just as the parrot squawks, “Fish! We’ve got fish! Fiiiiishy!”
A pile of styrofoam platters wrapped in clear plastic are stacked haphazardly in front of my nest-door neighbor’s door—not Logan’s. I’m thinking there could be fifteen or twenty butcher-style packages of fish in the hall.
“The delivery service … messed up … obviously,” Megan whispers.
My neighbor, the parrot owner, pokes his head out his door. Then he opens it fully and steps out to survey the pile of fish on his threshold.
“This,” Megan whispers, “is not good.”
I bite the bullet and swing my door open wide just as Logan steps around the corner. Our eyes lock from across the lounge.
Megan backs up, sending me momentarily stumbling. I catch myself before I go down.
“What’s going on?” Logan asks.
He’s walking toward me with a curious expression, but his eyes say everything. He knows something’s up. One thing about being rivals for this long: we read one another like familiar, favorite books. Only he’s definitely not my favorite. And I’m not his.
“Nothing!” Megan shouts too loudly. She lowers her voice. “Nothing going on here. We’re as curious as you are.”
“Frank,” Logan says as he rounds the corner to pass my apartment. “How’s it going?”
“Hi, Logan,” my neighbor answers. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on here.” Frank waves his hands at the pile of seafood.
My neighbor is probably in his late forties, early fifties. He’s greying at the temples. The rest of his hair is mostly dark brown with a little salt and pepper starting to show through. He’s plump, and he’s wearing pajamas and a bathrobe with slippers.
“Are those … fish?” Logan asks Frank, but he’s looking straight at me.
I cross my arms over my chest and turn so I’m looking at Frank.
“Yeah. Fish,” Frank says, obviously mystified as to how or why they showed up on his doorstep. “I’d say I got someone’s grocery delivery, but … all these fish? And no bags?”
“It’s certainly … fishy.” Logan smiles in my direction.
“Do you want us to help you get rid of them?” I offer. “I’m Olivia, by the way. Your new next-door neighbor. This is my friend Megan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Frank says. “Sorry about this. I wouldn’t have even known to check the hallway if Davy Jones hadn’t started yelling about fish.”
“Davy Jones?” Megan asks.
“My severe macaw. He’s a bit of a chatterbox in the daytime. I hope he doesn’t bother you too much. He’s quiet overnight, once I put him to bed.”
“He’s fine,” I say. “I’ll get some bags.”
I duck into my apartment, and Megan follows me.
I whisper-scold her. “Fish, Megan? Really? How much did that cost you?”
“They were expired,” she whispers back. “I asked the monger what they do with expired fish. When he told me they just toss them, I asked for all the expired fish to be delivered for me. I got them at a steal.” She shrugs. “You’ve got to admit, this would have been an amazing prank if those stinkers had gone to the right apartment. How hard can it be to find 2B?”
“I can’t believe you did this!” I whisper. I grab two grocery bags and hand one to her. “Let’s go clean up the mess.”
Megan takes the bag and whispers, “It would have been awesome, right?”
I step into the hallway and stoop down to load the fish into the grocery bags. They smell. It’s not horrible, but it’s definitely giving a sea-voyage vibe.
Megan joins me, and between the two of us, we’ve got the packages bagged in no time.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Frank says.
“Oh, yes, we did,” I say without thinking. “I mean, we’re glad to. That’s what neighbors are for.”
“Olivia’s very neighborly,” Logan chimes in. “She’s also full of surprises. Maybe one day you’ll get a cookie on your doorstep instead of fish.”
I shoot Logan a look that would fry him on the spot if only I could turn my eyes into lasers.
“Olivia didn’t put these here,” Megan defends. “We were eating take out when the parrot started squawking about fish.”
She’s the picture of innocence. It’s a bit scary how convincing Megan can be.
“I wasn’t saying …” Logan doesn’t finish his sentence. He does look me dead in the eyes. He holds my gaze, and I stare back at him without flinching.
His look says, I don’t know how you did this, but I know you meant for me to walk out into a pile of fish.
The image of Logan, ankles deep in cod and flounder, brings a smile to my face.
I’ve got to hand it to Megan. When it comes to best friends, she’s the best of the best. Not everyone would go to the lengths she does to defend my honor. The fish may have missed their intended target, but I still feel vindicated. At least for tonight.
The next morning, as I leave for work, I find a paper coffee cup sitting just to the left of my doorway. The logo on the sleeve says Serendipi-Tea. I inhale a whiff of the drink. No way . It’s a wildflower coffee lemonade.
I take a sip and hum as the warm, soothing drink passes over my lips.
I look across the lounge in the direction of apartment 2B.
I don’t know what his angle is, but Logan Alexander is definitely up to something.