I Can Taste the Failure

The days leading up to Tuesday were a quick and fast blur, leaving only several small moments to blaze to life in my mind, the rest easily shuffling to the back of my mind and hiding like a shadow.

The day finally came, and I woke up bright and early at 6:30 a.m., skipping out to the kitchen and greeting Louise, who blinked tiredly up at me.

“You’re so disgustingly chipper.”

I laughed; her face had been so different when I had come home on Saturday, looking sheepish and mussing my sex hair. She had practically rushed me when I came in through the door, wrapping her arms around my waist and crying happily in my ear, “You’re such a slut!”

I poured myself a cup of coffee and leaned my back against the counter that she was standing at, head in her hands. She peeked at me through her hands and I grinned at her. She groaned and let her head drop onto the cool expanse of the counter.

“How hung-over can you be on a Tuesday morning, Lou?”

“It’s not my fault,” she said defensively. “I was so smashed by the end that I don’t even remember what happened last night.”

The single biggest mystery of my life; how Louise manages to get home every night.

“Oh, bugger off,” she said when I verbalized it, her accent coming out strongly in her annoyance. “Go fuck yer boyfriend.”

“He is not my boyfriend.”

Louise glared up at me, turning her head to the side so her cheek was resting on the counter. “Go get dressed, Holley,” and then she moaned, clutching her stomach.

I did as she said, sending her a teasing glare before carrying my coffee up to my room and sifting through my clothes. It took me maybe twenty minutes, but I set out my choices and then took a shower, the water flattening my auburn curls against my body. I stepped out smelling deliciously like grapefruit and ran a hand through my hair, stepping out naked into my room.

I drew on a black pencil skirt- I had to admit, I was slightly frightened of Chelsea and her threats to fire me about wearing jeans- and a black tank top, fitting a black sweater over the top. I outlined my eyes in eyeliner, outfitted my lips in Hollywood red lipstick, and slipped dangling silver earrings in my ears. Grimacing as I sipped my cold coffee, I tugged on a pair of tall black wedge heels and made my way downstairs.

“Bloody hell, Lou,” I said when I saw her, still an unflattering shade of green, and pressed my hand to her forehead. She was burning up and her eyes looked bloodshot. “You’ve got to get up to bed.”

Louise groaned, “I can’t.”

I set down my cup of coffee. “C’mon, doll,” I said gently. “I can’t leave you down here like this.”

Together, we got her up the stairs and into bed. Once she was hidden beneath the lime green covers, I knelt by her side, concerned because she practically matched her bedding. She looked back at me, just her small face visible beneath the blankets.

“Would you like me to stay home, Lou?”

“Shut up,” she said, rolling over and wiggling so she was more comfortable. “Go to work, I’m fine.”

I laughed and ruffled her red hair, “Call me if you need me.”

Once I arrived at work, the day progressed more slowly than usual. Chelsea shot me a thin, happy-less smile of approval when she passed my office and zeroed in on the curve-hugging skirt. This, nor the annoying clients, could keep my thoughts off of Oliver, and when he showed up, ten minutes late, leaning against the doorway of my office with a casual “Hey,” I had to steel my hand around a pencil because of the itching feeling to throw my arms around him. I stood up, unsure as I dropped the pencil on my desk, hands flittering against my black skirt. Finally, I tucked his file under my arm- as if I could ever write him up for something bad- and kissed his cheek, replying with a coy “Hey yourself.”

Oliver looked back into the hall and strode quickly into my office, pulling me after him. “Kiss me,” he ordered huskily. I complied, swiftly tangling my hands in his long brown hair, pulling his lips down to mine. He slammed me into my desk. Something went clattering to the floor, but I ignored it, focusing on our infused lips. He pulled away abruptly, much too soon, and I was left staring up at him, cheeks pink and heart racing. He held his arm out for me cheerfully, and I tucked myself into him. “Ready to go, Stryder?” he asked, and I slipped past him, out the door and into the hall.

“Of course, Mr. Sykes… and as always, your politeness is shocking.”

He smirked at me cutely and minutes later, we were once again climbing in the large, white SUV. I buckled myself into the passenger seat, settling into the soft seats while Oliver climbed into the driver’s side and started up the car. Once he finished adjusting the mirrors, we pulled out of the parking lot and set out towards the hot England sun.

Oliver smoothed his hand out on my thigh, making my attentions stray from the passing scenery to Oliver’s face. I smiled at him, “That’s a violation of driving regulations, Sykes, and not only that, but it is sexual harassment.”

“You looked too distracted. I wanted to… bring you back to reality,” I rolled my eyes at Oliver, who was smirking at me now, creeping his hand further up my leg and under the tight skirt that was covering them. “And God, that skirt, honey, it may be a little plain… but it hugs you just right.”

“You’ve really got to get your libido checked out…”

“Now why would I ever want to do that?”

I smiled at him cheekily, “Well, that sex drive is going to get you in trouble one day, Oli. I just pray that I won’t be around to see it,” a raised eyebrow graced Oliver’s face, but I was too distracted by the large coffee shop sign looming in the distance to see it. “Take a right here, would you? I could really use a coffee.”

I trashed the empty coffee cup, rattling clearly with ice, outside the building of my work forty minutes later. I pulled open the door, but before I could escape inside, Oliver circled his arms around my thin waist and pulled me against him. “What’re you doing, Holley?” he asked, voice low in my ear. I shivered, turning around to face him, fitting my arms around his neck. It was written clearly on his face how much he wanted me, and deep satisfaction bloomed in my stomach. “Don’t I at least get a goodbye kiss?”

I blushed a bright red, “Oliver, I’m at work.”

His lips trailed own my neck, making me feel flushed and hot. “Not one will see, love…” He moved back up to my lips, kissed me with tantalizing slowness, and then moved up to my ear, which he nibbled gently. I gasped, pushed myself against him and tangling my hands in his hair, locking my lips on his. He chuckled into the kiss and pulled away from my lips, “You know, your car is about a five second walk from here…” Oliver bit my lower lip gently. “I’d even carry you, if you asked.”

I thought about none of the consequences as I pressed my lips to his ear, “You’d better hurry, love. I’m getting fairly impatient, I hate to admit.”

“I see you’ve decided to break a few more rules, Stryder.”

I whirled away from Oliver, mouth opened and ready to spew something, but it was his voice, not mine, that let out the shocked, “Chelsea?”

My boss smiled tightly, her signature for displeasure, but even I could tell that this smile was colder than usual, as if she was seeking blood and wouldn’t leave until she had it.

“If you’ll move along, Oliver, I believe Holley and I have something to discuss.”

“Wait, wait,” I sputtered, staring wildly between the two, for some reason my hand still fastened on Oliver’s chest as if I was holding him back, though no force was coming from him. “You two know each other?”

Chelsea’s caustic smile tightened, “Quite well, actually.”

“Oliver…” I said, voice pleading as I turned to take in his frozen expression.

“Holley, I- Chelsea and I- it was a long time ago, sweetheart.”

Everything fell into place in shocking clarity. Tears stung behind my eyes as I dropped my hand from Oliver’s chest and took at step back, ending up with my back nearly against the glass door again. “Sweetheart, is it now?” I asked him in an acidic voice.

Chelsea’s cool voice cut through my anger and pain, “I think it’s safe to say that you’re fired, Holley.”

I turned my tear-filled eyes on the tall, prim woman, hating her, hating everything about her from her towering, black Jimmy Choo heels to her thin, model figure.

“That’s unnecessary, I would have quit anyway,” I said stiffly.

Refusing to look at Oliver, I shoved past both of them and down to my car.

“What the fuck, Chelsea? You’re really still that angry? We’re over, you bitch, so stop trying to ruin every fucking thing in my life!”

I turned around wildly at Oliver’s words, clenching my hands into tight, angry fists and hissed out through my teeth, “Read my lips, Sykes. I was never in your life. You made that plenty clear, remember? And Chelsea, go fuck yourself, I hated working for you anyway.”

I swung around on my heel and continued to storm angrily to where my car was parked, only to feel a hand close around my upper arm and yank me to a halt.

“Will you fucking stop for a second, Holley? Hear me out.”

“You clearly don’t realize how close I am to punching you.”

“Holley, you can’t blame me for what I’ve done! I didn’t even know you when I was involved with Chelsea.”

“My boss, Oliver, my fucking boss,” I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “I don’t need a fucking reason to hate you for that. Chelsea, oh my fucking God. I should have seen what a bastard you were before.”

“Stop that!” he shouted suddenly, grabbing onto me and yanking my body against his. “Stop being such a fucking bitch for a second, okay?”

My eyes darkened. “I’m not a bitch, Oliver.”

Oliver let go of me suddenly, stressfully running a hand through his hair and stepping away. “Fine, fine, whatever, just go.”

“How could you keep this a secret from me?” I asked suddenly, shaking my head, able to breathe now with the distance. “You knew, didn’t you? You had to have known she was here all along.”

“What was I supposed to do, Holley? It was the only fucking driving instructor’s place for hours!”

“I knew something had to be off about you. I knew it. I should have realized it sooner.”

Oliver’s eyes were shadowy and narrowed, “No one “realizes” things about me, love.”

“Don’t call me love,” I hissed out darkly between my teeth.

“Go, Holley,” he said angrily. “One of my friends will gladly pick me up,” his eyes narrowed, voice turned potentially cruel. “They liked you, you know. They said you were too good for me,” he let out a dark laugh. “And please, don’t ruin the potential friendships on my account.”

I smiled bright and fake, “Of course, tell your friends that I’d love to see them. They must be wonderful people, befriending a guy like you.”

The shrill ring of a cell phone broke the anger zinging between our tensed bodies, and I flipped open my phone, saying, “Hey, Lou, what’s up?” with a voice coated in fake sugar.

“Lou-Louise, calm down! I can’t understand you. What’s wrong?”

My face turned pale at her words.

“I’ll be right there,” I promised her, ending the call and stuffing the cell in my purse.

I hand touched my shoulder, still angrily tensed but not enough to cause real pain, Oliver’s “Is she okay?” making my stomach sear in a flash of pain.

“No,” I snapped, whirling on him. “She’s not fucking okay, Oliver, alright?”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed, “Alright.”

Knifes slid into my stomach as I climbed into my car. Oliver took a step back and I slammed the door shut. As I pulled away from him, I shot him one last glance. I saw his expression- closed off face, only betraying pure resentment- and more stings flashed through my body.

Secrets can be the most dangerous weapons indeed.