Chapter 15 Olive #2
It’s like…if I look to the ground and my neck bends ever so slightly, I feel a rush from head to toe, and my legs want to stop working and collapse underneath me.
Resting with my feet up did nothing to fix the issue, so I thought a nap might help.
No screens. No stress. I needed to force myself to relax.
My head was resting on a pillow, my neck slightly bent, and everything changed.
It’s never done that before, and I need to know how to make it stop.
The email swoop sound pings from my phone, and I flinch, able to guess exactly who it’s from. Jolting up right, I leap for it as it rests on the nightstand next to the head of my bed. I unlock the screen in a panic.
From: MartinMinton@
To: Olive.Herring@
Olive,
Try not to stress. Your medication hasn’t had the chance to start working yet, especially if you’ve only administered the first dose this morning.
If you don’t see any signs of improvement in the next month, or you notice the side effects gets worse, let me know and we can arrange an updated MRI to check for any active lesions on your brain and spine.
Regards,
Martin Minton
Mentally, I feel a little better. I hate that my body is betraying me in the way that it is, and that I genuinely cannot control it.
Can’t fix it.
I can’t fix me, and it makes me feel…broken.
But I have a show tonight, the last in New York City, and it requires all of my attention. Which means the random, tingling sensation that has taken over my entire body will have to wait until later.
Tomorrow, even.
Preferably, though, I would like for it to just go away and never come back.
***
My footsteps echo through the speakers that surround the stage, and I let the quiet whispers fill in the blanks.
It’s day seven of me being in New York, and the final night of me playing at Madison Square Garden. A venue people dream of selling out, and I’ve done it on my first shows away from the place I call home.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I haven’t done anything, but people have still shown up to see me, and I don’t think I'll ever tire of that feeling.
My eyes scan the space in front of me, torch lights make it hard to see a damn thing, but when I strum the first chord on my guitar, everything stops for a brief moment before screams and cheers take over.
Automatically, I look toward the front row where my family were seated on opening night, but I come up empty. In a way, it almost feels like I’m missing my security blanket.
I look down at the neck of my guitar, and my spine pinches, sending that rush from my neck to my toes, and it forces my gaze back up to the crowd, to the front row.
My eyes gravitate to a figure I’ve grown familiar with against my own will. A figure with his hood down, cap on, and blue eyes that could slice through me at any given moment.
He actually showed up.
Fair play, Jones.
He has his phone out, recording me, then turns the camera to show the crowd.
I smile into my microphone as I sing the first string of lyrics, trying to forget he’s even there at all.
Because he’s not here for me, not like my family would be, he’s here for himself. Just like in two weeks' time, I’ll be at his gala for me.
The crowd screams louder as each song finishes and a new one begins. I see signs painted for me and only me by people who call themselves my fans, with tears streaming down their faces.
"Thank you so much to everybody who came down a little earlier tonight to see me play. My name is Olive Herring, and this song is called Speechless."
Once those words leave my lips, I see Josie sneak to the front row, doing her best to get Avery’s attention, but it’s like he’s in a trance as he watches me. His mouth open, his eyes twinkling, his fingers threaded while on his lap.
No phone, just totally in the moment.
Then Josie whispers to him, and he blinks, jaw snapping shut as he realizes he’s been caught.
Nodding once, he follows her to the back of the stadium, right as the last chord plays out and the stage turns pitch black.
I make it to my dressing room, desperate for some solace, but when I open the doors, I find Avery and Josie.
He’s seated on the black leather couch, and she’s resting on my vanity, without a single word being shared between them.
The tension is palpable.
"Hi." He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable being in a space with people he doesn’t know.
"Do you guys mind? I need to change." I hold the door open for both of them, and Avery scrambles to his feet, but my manager holds her hand up to stop him in his tracks.
"I need to go over the plan with you for the gala," Josie tells me, a silent urge in her voice, but I shake my head.
"That’s in two weeks. We have time. I’m gross and sweaty. I need out of these clothes and into something comfortable. So, please. Just give me five minutes."
She reluctantly agrees, and they both leave the dressing room.
The door slams behind them, and I sigh a huge breath of relief, but I only allow myself a minute until I’m out of my jeans and tank top, and into sweatpants and a jumper.
Just as I’m opening the door, Avery is there, looking toward Josie over his shoulder, his fist raised in front of him to knock, and he does.
Against my chest.
He turns the reddest I think I’ve ever seen a human turn.
"Fuck," he hisses. "I didn’t—"
"So, I guess that’s one thing I can tick off my ‘Get to know Avery Jones’ list," I say with a wink.
"And what’s that, Olivia?" He rests a shoulder against the wooden door frame of my dressing room, his arms crossed over his chest.
"That you’re a boob man. Would’ve picked you for an ass man myself, but both of mine are probably above average, so I can’t blame you.
" I tip toe to get closer to his ear before I whisper, "If you wanted to touch my boobs, Avery, all you had to do was ask. I might’ve said yes, but I guess we’ll never know.
" I take a step back with a cheeky smirk, and the redness from his face settles on his cheeks.
"God, are you always this annoying?" he asks under his breath for only me to hear, and I nod excitedly.
"Absolutely. And according to my manager, you and I are about to spend all of our free time together. So, baby, you better get used to it."
I woke up this morning stressed and so incredibly scared of what was to come for the day.
Medication.
Interviews with questions that were off limits.
Playing another sold-out show for the third time this week.
What I didn’t expect, however, was to suddenly find my future husband, incredibly annoying, and stupidly attractive at the same time.
But here we are.