Chapter 2 OLIVIA
OLIVIA
Igrab the pieces of mail from the mailbox before heading into my apartment.
I normally just toss everything in the trash, not caring about the pre-qualified offer on a personal loan or the extended car warranty letter for a car that I don’t even own.
But as I sift through all the junk mail, tossing them in the trash one by one, I see something that pulls my interest.
A black envelope with no addressee or return sender information on it. I lean against my kitchen counter as I decide to tear it open, finding an invitation tucked inside.
My heart thuds as I pull it out and read it.
Come One, Come All.
Is what the first line reads in bold black lettering.
Olivia, join us for a Halloween tradition like no other.
I stare at it confused, because I know what this is, but I don’t know why it was sent to me.
Invitations for Thriller Nights have been scrapped since the murders took place. Unless they started it back up again this year, but as I hold the paper in my hands, a sense of disquietude washes over me.
I flip it over to see if I can tell who sent it, but the backside is blank. As I continue to read over the invite, reaching the bottom, I get an eerie chill when I read the rather lurid closing statement.
Let’s have a weekend to die for.
I immediately decide to throw it in the trash, wanting to scream or vomit or both at the same time. This has to be some kind of sick prank to evoke a reaction out of me or just someone who thrives on the opportunity to be a barbaric asshole.
And even though the eerie feeling I get and the urge to disobey that feeling collide and tangle in my head, I can’t help but feel a little curious as to why someone would seek me out personally to extend me an invitation.
It’s almost like someone wants me in the Pines this weekend.
The noise in the bar ricochets loudly. Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down plays from the vintage, coin-operated jukebox as regulars gather around the tables and high-tops for their normal night of drinking and watching reruns of whatever college games are on.
Normally, we'd have the MCU game on if they're playing, but this weekend, just like every Halloween weekend, they have a bye-week. Don’t ask how they manage that.
"Come on, sweetheart. Don't you like bending the rules just a tad? What's one more gonna harm?"
I sigh at the old man's request, trying not to appear too annoyed with him because he is one of my best tipping customers.
"It’ll hinder your ability to drive home, Walter. You know the rules . . . you're cut off." I swipe my dish towel across the bar to wipe up the melted ice as I grab his glass from in front of him. He gives me a displeasing look before managing a tipsy smirk while slapping down his wadded-up cash.
"You're too good to me, little youngin'. I'm sure my wife thanks you for looking out for me." He performs a sloppy salute over his brow with two fingers, before drunkenly sliding off his stool.
He, like everyone else in this joint, is an every-damn-day customer.
Every spare minute of his life that he has to offer, he spends here.
Doesn't live too far to walk home but for some reason he insists on driving and getting near the edge of blackout drunk.
Every night I cut him off at the same number of drinks but I'm sure of it now .
. . he definitely drinks his weight in beer before he enters the bar every night.
Why do I care, though? I can only do so much.
I give him a sarcastic smile before turning around to start making the drinks for the table that Alli just took the order for.
"Here's another," she says as she slides in behind me, reaching down for some glasses to fill with soda. I look down at the piece of paper she drops onto the bar top as I shake the margarita shaker.
"I don't know why you even bother bringing them over, as if I'm actually going to entertain any of them one day." I pop the top to the shaker and pour the mixture over ice, just as she reaches down to grab the glass from my hands to place on her drink tray.
"You never know. One of them might stick." She grins, and I rush to top the margarita she took with a lime wedge before she speeds off to deliver the drinks.
A few of the guys sitting at the bar turn their heads to watch her ass walk away in her short shorts.
I think she does it on purpose because it's way too damn cold to be wearing the skimpy outfit she's in right now, but it’s her prerogative. And she’s got the confidence to pull it off. Kudos to her.
I pick up the damp piece of paper with the phone number scribbled on it, looking up to see the pair of greedy eyes it belongs to.
He's sitting at the table Alli just dropped the drinks for and I make it a point to scrunch the paper in my fist before tossing it into the trash with a rather condescending smirk, not giving him another second of my time before I turn to continue making drinks.
A few minutes later, Alli comes back and snickers behind me.
"I see you denied the gentleman's request. Savage." She whips her copper-colored ponytail and nearly smacks me in the face with it, but I flinch in time to avoid it.
"That gentleman knows as well as anyone else in this smaller-than-my-tits-town, I'm not interested." I swipe a customer's card at the register as she works behind me to gather more drinks.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m just the messenger.” She rolls her eyes with a playful smirk. “And your tits are anything but small, Liv,” she adds but I ignore her.
Not only am I not looking for another relationship—seeing as I just got out of one—but something else tugs at my heart.
Something that I haven’t really thought about over the years.
The fact that my heart will never fully be available for anyone else to have.
A realization that I’ve pushed deep down for so long because I worked so hard to erase any lingering thoughts of him, but I can’t be oblivious to the fact that with my wavering thoughts of going up to the Pines this weekend, comes the upheaval of memories I swore I’d take to my grave.
The subject of my heart’s darkest desire but the very thing I swore myself to never fall victim to again because of the damage that’s been done; it feels irreparable and I can’t fathom putting myself through that again.
Which is part of the reason I broke up with my current boyfriend a few weeks ago.
“Is Jensen in town yet?” Alli asks, referring to said ex-boyfriend.
“Probably,” I respond. “Haven’t really talked to him much.”
Jensen and I were together for the last three years, and I'll never forget how kind and understanding he’s been the entire time.
But I’ll also never tell him that it started out as a rebound for me.
A rebound that I desperately needed to pull me out of the dark place I was in and someone to help me take my mind off of someone else.
After a while it turned into a feeling of contentment and comfort, and then it just became easy and before I knew it, years were passing by.
I grew to like knowing that he’d always be there for me and Jensen certainly played the part of the doting boyfriend.
Our relationship had become a simple constant that I thought I needed at the time.
But then he told me he loved me and something in my brain clicked.
What the hell am I doing? I was stringing him along and I knew it wasn’t right.
I didn’t mean to, especially not as long as it went on.
But I think I needed him to attempt the next step for me to realize it because I was hanging on to one of the many things I can remember about that night.
Jensen was there for me when no one else was.
But no matter how safe I felt knowing that he’d always be there for me and regardless of the fact that he’s one of the very few things that I can recall the night of the murders, I came to the realization a few weeks ago that when I leave this town, I want to leave everything it represents behind me.
And it’s not fair for me to hold on something that I don’t really feel strongly about anyway.
So while our breakup was pretty civil and mutual, and we’ve still remained friends, I know that I broke his heart just a little bit.
But he's getting ready to venture off into professional football; he's going to have fame, and girls, and fans. He's going to get to see places he's never been before. As much as I want to get out of this small town and breathe new air, I don't picture myself doing that with him.
I can't help but remember the time in my life where I might have wanted that with someone else, though.
Which causes more memories to resurface and I have to suck in a deep breath and exhale it slowly as I close my eyes to try and conjure up literally anything else.
That’s when I decide to change the subject.
“Hey, did you get an invitation?”
Alli stops to look at me. “An invite? You mean to the Pines?” Her confusion tells me all I need to know. “That hasn’t been a thing for years.” she reminds me, as if I didn’t already know that.
“I mean, I wish. I never got to experience any of this before, so that would have been fucking cool, honestly. Why? Did you?” she asks me and part of me wants to tell her the truth but, if I’m the only one who did get an invite, I wonder if I should share that information at all.
So I decide to lie about it and shake my head, opting to switch gears.
"Listen, I haven’t told Jensen yet, or anyone for that matter, but I’m not doing this whole Halloween tradition thing." I lean against the bar and cross my arms over my chest.
"What? Liv, you have to go. You know this is my first time! I want you there with me and you know Jen and Banks put a lot of work into it this year. It's like a rite of passage and-"