Chapter 15 Olive
Chapter fifteen
Olive
"Where do you find your inspiration to write the type of songs that you do?" Arj, the local radio host, says from across the tiny studio space. I wish I could give him and this interview the attention it deserves, but my mind keeps wandering, thinking about my impending marriage.
How did I go from living in a small town, teaching high school students how to read and write music, keeping my private life to myself, to this?
Performing on stage every night in front of thousands of people, living in hotel rooms, and forced to marry a man I know nothing about.
Sighing heavily, I manage a response to Arj. "You mean sad songs?" I force a smirk, hoping it comes off as though I have a sense of humor. I know that’s exactly what he means, but it’s funny watching grown men squirm a little when you call them out.
"Exactly. Surely one person can only go through so much heartbreak before their songs all start to sound the same." It isn’t a question, but a fact. He levels me with a look that says, ‘Now what?’
I so badly want to call him out. I want to tell him that I know for a fact he never asks male artists the same questions. That they have the same style of storytelling as I do, some more depressing than mine. But I don’t.
Instead, I ignore the spite in his words and answer his first question as politely as I can.
"Truthfully, I get my inspiration from the people around me. When sad things happen to them, I write about it." I shrug nonchalantly, but the look on his face tells me it isn’t what he wants to hear. He wants my heartbreak. He wants my truth. He wants the gut-wrenching, raw vulnerability. But that part of me doesn’t exist. How can I give it to him when I’ve never even felt it myself?
"There’s not a lot to it, to be honest. It’s just how it goes.
" I take a quick and quiet sip of my water while I wait for whatever he’s going to fire at me next.
"Olive, the girl and her guitar. Grangewood Creek’s only celebrity," Arj says, and I laugh, because we both know that’s wildly false.
"That’s not true, actually," I reply with a soft smile. "We’re also known for the football players we produce." I can picture my brother-in-law rolling his eyes when he inevitably listens to this interview.
Speaking of family, I still haven’t returned my sister's or mom's calls from this morning, and I fear it might turn into a witch hunt if I don’t do it as soon as I get the chance.
But that’s the thing. I haven’t had the chance yet.
Cassandra is probably assuming the worst potential outcome: that Avery Jones knocked me up on a one-night stand that she didn’t know about, and now we’re trying to do the right thing by the baby and forcing ourselves to make it work.
Ever since she found out I slept with Harley’s best friend, Robbie, she’s looked at me in a completely different light.
To her, I used to be some sort of innocent angel who had never been touched, and now, I’m…I don’t even know.
I’ll let her suffer a little while longer, though.
It’s funnier that way.
Lizzie is probably crushed that I never told her about my secret love affair with the NBA’s most talked-about player.
Both of my sisters know how much of a stretch it all is, but given my absence, they’re probably creating their own versions of events in their heads.
And Jenna is no doubt just wanting to hear all the juicy details. Hell, she and her partner, Cole, started out as a fake relationship that he wormed his way into.
The only difference is that she did fall in love with Cole, and he fell in love with her.
I would never fall in love with Avery Jones.
"Speaking of your brother-in-law, we’ve all seen the photos of him looking comfortable in the front row of your show, next to a face we know all too well in New York City.
" His words linger in the air, probably for a little too long, while I figure out exactly how to combat them.
How to answer his question without really answering it at all.
Meanwhile, Josie is waving her hands frantically in the air in Arj’s direction, mouthing ‘no personal questions,’ but he ignores her, his eyes zeroed in on me.
"Harley makes friends wherever he goes. It’s part of his charm. He’s a big, friendly giant."
Hopefully, that did enough.
"You don’t want to touch on the person who was seated next to Harley at your concert? The one in the photograph?" He tries again, tilting his head to the side, and I force myself to laugh, and hope like hell it sounds genuine.
I want to tell him to spit it out and ask me what he really wants.
I want to tell him that everything he’s read online is a complete lie, and total bullshit, but the way Josie’s eyes are bulging out of her head, scream ‘do not mess this up.’
"If you’re asking if that’s the first time Harley and Avery met, my answer to that would be no.
They met last year at the annual Herring Family Christmas.
From what Avery told me, Harley tried to convince him to coach the Grangewood Creek basketball team when he eventually retires from the game.
" I grin, smug and impressed with my answer on the fly, desperately hoping Avery never catches wind of this conversation.
He was furious this morning learning that he and I are supposed to be an item. I’m furious too. But when I imagine him finding out that he’s apparently met my entire family, and is in talks of coaching the basketball team that hasn’t won a game in the last ten years? It sets my world on fire.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I leave it until the song break, so I can pretend it’s him blowing up my phone.
It gives me time to come up with crazy scenarios in my head of every way he’s flipping out on me, panicking about making shit up that isn’t even close to being true.
I don't even have his number.
I guess my sisters and I are alike in that sense. Only, I don’t do it to make myself panic. I do it for entertainment.
"Retire from the game? But he’s only, what? Pushing thirty? Surely he still has a few years left in the tank? Is there already talk behind closed doors about Jones leaving it all behind?"
Shit, I’ve said too much.
"Firstly, he’s thirty-one." Thank you, Google.
"And secondly, God, no. Could you imagine?
The man is at the peak of his career, doing things nobody has ever done before.
You really expect him to retire to coach a bunch of sixteen-year-olds?
" I fire back, feeling heat rush to my cheeks, my entire body swallowed by adrenaline, numbness and complete fear.
I have a feeling everything I just said is incorrect, and I’m about to be called out on it.
Shit shit shit.
I know nothing about this man’s career, what he’s capable of, and what he’s done so far. Yet here I am, spinning a web of lies. I hope it comes across as me being a biased girlfriend who is proud of her partner, rather than somebody who has no idea what she’s talking about.
I fully intended on doing my research last night, but we all know how that turned out.
"That’s all we have time for today, folks. Here is Olive’s brand new song, ‘Toxic Water’." The sound of a G chord strums through the headphones as I place them down onto the desk in front of me, with Josie first out the gate.
"What the hell was that?" She calls out to Arj, who hasn’t even looked back in my direction. He pushes his chair in and walks toward the door. His black, greasy hair slicked over without a care in the world.
"Ratings, Josie. Ratings. And I’m sorry to tell you, but bringing up the boy-toy will drive our ratings through the roof.
I did what I had to do, as did your money maker over there.
" He nods in my direction, his lips forming a straight line.
"Till next time." Arj collects a mini stack of paper before he and his crew head for the door.
"That can’t happen again," Josie seethes the moment we’re back inside my hotel room, the door firmly closed behind us.
"I’m sorry," I admit with a shrug. "I wasn’t prepared for a question like that. He caught me off guard. I’ll do better next time." I chug back whatever is left in my water bottle before refilling it from the tap.
"You’re right, you will. While you may not have said anything factually incorrect, those are things you cannot guess, and hope you got right. You could’ve messed with his career, Olive." She shakes her head.
"I hear you loud and clear, boss." I salute her, and she storms out, phone glued to her ear as I hear her asking to speak to Mr. Davis.
Maybe they shouldn’t have sprung this on us. Maybe, just maybe, they should’ve actually sat the two of us down and told us ahead of time, so we could be prepared.
But no.
They saw him ‘protect me’, and decided to throw us a stupidly extravagant date that each of us was completely unaware of.
So now, we’re winging it, being asked questions about each other that I have no idea how to answer.
But he can’t really blame me for that, can he?
Note to self: Hound Avery with questions about himself the first chance you get, but make it subtle.
It’ll annoy him.
Also, Google the shit out of him, and find out whatever he doesn’t tell you.
***
To: MartinMinton@
From: Olive.Herring@
Hi, Dr. Minton,
I hope this email finds you well.
I’m just wanting to check in. I administered my first dose of medication this morning, and ever since I’ve been feeling a little…
off. I don’t know how else to explain it, but my nerves feel like they’re in overdrive today.
I’m wondering if it’s a reaction to my medication or if I’m potentially relapsing.
Thanks,
Olive
I had to send that email.
Sure, it was out of the blue for him, but it weighed heavily on me all morning.
I tried to rest once Josie had left to give myself a little more energy before the show tonight, but my mind wouldn’t shut off.
I’ve been freaking out since I got home from my string of interviews this morning, feeling an overwhelming sense of adrenaline coursing through my veins.