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Olivia

(Rough Draft)

Joe watched the waitress as she cleaned off another table.  Her energetic competence was relentless.  After observing her for a few weeks, he had decided that was what he needed in his life: some woman to come and handle him relentlessly with energy and competence.

He had started coming to Lorenzo’s for the pizza and beer. It also had the honor of being the  most convenient full service restaurant to the construction trailer were he was presently living.  He liked Italian food, but the menu had enough variety it wasn’t a hardship to eat most of his meals there.  It hadn’t taken him long to notice her.

She was intriguing to look at.  He could catalog her charms from memory.  Hair, straight, or he thought so, blonde, but with different shades that appeared depending on which light she was standing under.  She had real class too, her hair wasn’t in one of those claw things women were wearing these days.  It was attached to her head in some manner that didn’t include hardware that was seen.   Her skin looked like the kind his mother used to call peaches and cream.  She didn’t have that anemic look that many blondes have.  No visible freckles either.

Her eyes were gray, but not.  They had steely colors.  Sometimes they were darkened to almost a gunmetal color.  At other times, when ever she was about to laugh, he caught the flash of silver in them. 

She was tall for a woman and seemed trim in the leg.  Perhaps under endowed at the top, but he had noticed that too much there tended to make women look self conscious, rounding their shoulders.  This woman walked with the grace of African women, the ones with bundles on their heads, upright but flexible. 

She didn’t polish her nails, but they were beautifully kept, not claws that looked intimidating, but clean and trim.   To top it off,  she smelled great even if he couldn’t identify the scent.  He figured smelling her at all had to be a miracle.  He didn’t see how his nose could discern her scent in an Italian place.  It smelled of basil, oregano, and garlic.  She didn’t.  He double checked  by leaving and then coming back to the restaurant for coffee and Neapolitan ice cream for dessert.  Sure enough, same scent, it was her all right. 

He tried to discern exactly why he felt such a strange feeling whenever she came very close.  It was like standing near a static electricity generator.  The closer she came the more he could feel the buzz.  It wasn’t so much the beauty of each feature. Taken, one by one they weren’t that unusual.  Maybe it was the way she moved and the sparkle in her expression that put the whole package together with style.

Watching her was becoming a regular pastime.  It was challenging trying to make sure he wasn’t very obvious.  He would face different directions and sit at different tables. Occasionally he would select a window seat.  That was one thing Lorenzo’s had over all others, a wall of windows.  It was too bad that the only view they offered were of the busy one-way street out front.  It reminded him of that famous painting someone had done of a diner.  On evenings when he planned to sit by the windows, he came late.  That way he could watch her in the reflection from the darkened glass.

She was consistent.  Always.  It seemed no matter how late he appeared or stayed, she flitted about, bringing order out of chaos.  One night he stayed until closing time.  As far as he could tell, she never left.  He knew that was impossible.

Many of the construction crew he worked with would come to Lorenzo’s for a beer and dinner, especially the single men.  They were working on a new high-rise going up three blocks from here, northwest of the center of downtown Denver. 

He and the rest of the crew had all seen the artist’s mock ups.  The building was going to look like one of the 1930-40’s art-deco hotels, with a curved covered portico and include a superbly classy lobby and elevator area.  The front desk replica would serve a clerk that would actually be a security guard, mail, and delivery clerk.  He thought there might be car valet service in the plans.  He had his misgivings about the feasibility of that idea.

There would be a doorman/security guard at the front door.  The huge brass and glass revolving door he thought would be a nice touch.  Parking would be in the basement and had street access through the rear of the building.  It was going to be a condominium tower with an outstanding view of the mountains.  Although presently over looking over the train station and the renewed area around the Platte river, it would also have an unrestricted view of the mountains.  The entire top floor of the building was unplanned as yet.  The space existed, but the usage was unclear and unsold.  He knew the architect had been told to prepare plans for the needs of an internationally renowned restaurant or a very exclusive private residence.

            Joe had worked construction since he was twelve.  He like the people.  He liked being a part of building something that would endure, hopefully long past his lifetime.  Denver was like that.  A good building never seemed to die here.  It was merely reborn to serve again. Perhaps differently, but rarely razed.  He wanted that in a woman.  He hadn’t realized it until he started watching the waitress. 

            It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his interest in her, far from it.  He had been around the block a few times.  He preferred to call it caution.  So far, he had seen her make dates with several of his fellow crewmen.  It seemed a different one every week.  The weird thing about it was that no matter how many hints he threw out, no one was inclined to say much about her.  He was surprised at the gentlemanly reticence on their parts.  It was odd in the construction field.  Men were men and construction men were usually a vocal bunch.

            Some of the men who had taken her out would not come back in the restaurant, others did.  The ones who did, still flirted with her.  The silly waitress watching game was beginning to cut in to his old movie watching.  He was spending too much time down here.  He knew he was heading for trouble when he had stayed to watch his waitress instead of hurrying home to watch ‘the Duke’ in ‘The Flying Tigers’, one of his favorite old movies.  It was a standing date with himself to always watch it whenever he knew it was coming on.  A fellow had to have some continuity in his life.

            To deepen the mystery, she didn’t work full time.  She never served at any other mealtime.  He had been here at breakfast.  He had watched for her at lunch.  No matter how he varied the time or the day of the week, she was only at work Sunday through Thursday and in the evenings only.  She probably pulled down top tips, but they couldn’t be that good.  How did she support herself?

            The conversations he had managed to overhear were equally odd.  She did not seem to share acquaintances with the other waitresses.  She didn’t use much slang and no profanity.  He had learned a few new words from one little brunette waitress that worked for a few weeks.  Once, he had overheard a waitress, single, and mother of three talk about her finance trouble.  His waitress had given her calm and cogent advise, even offering to balance her check book for her.

            The night he had gone to sleep thinking of her as his waitress was the night he knew he was going to chance a date himself.  What could happen?  He didn’t need a  call to the psychic hotline to tell him his life was complicated, but wasn’t likely to get better.  She seemed to go out with anyone who asked her.  It wasn’t the only thing that had kept him at a distance, but it was the foremost.  He wouldn’t hold experience against a woman, but there were limits.  Her name was Tina.

            “Tina Marie Olivia Ann just what do you think you are doing?” Julian’s cultured voice inquired.  She had pushed the message button on her answering machine as she padded across the living room towards the kitchen and a well earned cup of plain Colombian coffee.  Unfashionable perhaps, but she liked plain coffee. The fashionable stuff tasted burnt to her and with even the restaurant where she worked following the fad, she needed a cup of the real stuff.  Hurray for Juan Valdez and his mule, the Colombian coffee grower’s trademark!  She grimaced as her foot stepped on a few coffee grounds she had spilled on the floor that morning when she had been in a hurry.  As usual she had taken off her shoes at the door. 

The habit of removing her footwear at the door was ingrained from childhood. It still had benefits.  It saved the antique silk oriental rug from extra cleanings and since she sometimes sat lounging on the floor, made her feel it was a lot more sanitary.  Not that she thought she was a germ freak, but the bottoms of shoes came into contact with public restroom floors.  That said it all as far as she was concerned.

“I’m calling you now so that you have plenty of time to come up with an entertaining story by breakfast.  See you then. Bye. Doll.”   Julian had caught her.  Maybe.  It was like Julian to sound like he knew everything so that you would nervously babble the details he didn’t know.  She had hoped to be finished with this project before she had to tell him anything.  Now that idea was blown to hell.

Olivia sighed.  Not that the project was going particularly well.  She had been at it for two months now.  All she had to show for it was a larger bank balance and aching feet.  She’d had some good times, but not …that was the problem.  She couldn’t identify the ‘not’.

Her drip pot gurgled and sighed, signaling her solace-in-a-cup was ready.  She dumped in a little milk.  She smiled at herself.  She had built the image of always going first class.  The problem with that was how a person defined first class.  To some it meant how much was paid, to others the name, either brand, designer, or country of origin, to her however it was so much more and so much less.  In this case it meant milk instead of cream in her coffee.  She laughed softly as she realized how philosophical she was waxing over a cup of coffee.

Taking the coffee with her to her luxury bathroom suite, she set it on the counter as she removed the rest of her work clothes.  White shirt, black skirt, and support hose all hit the laundry.  Pulling the long hair pin from her hair, the blonde on blonde professionally streaked hair fell to her shoulder blades.  That felt so much better she thought as she rubbed her scalp with her fingertips. 

She admired her butt in the mirror as she turned to start the water running in the shower.  That was one of the benefits of waitress work.  It certainly kept the backside in good shape. She took a few more sips of her coffee.  She loved her shower.  Its design was almost a signature piece in her work.  Sealed to keep the steam from escaping, it kept the person showering warmer, wasted less hot water, and didn’t ruin the decor of the bathroom, in her case, the hand printed Chinese wallpaper.  She also liked the convenience of never having to worry if her clothing in the walk-in closet was in danger of mildewing.  Although Denver had a very dry climate, that wouldn’t matter much if the bathing/dressing suite was ill designed. 

Her head wrapped in a pomegranate colored towel, Olivia did what she always did when she was home this time of night.  She turned on the old movie channel.  Settling down with another cup of coffee she buffed her nails and lotioned her legs.  She like watching old movies.  The bad guys were bad.  The good guys were good.  The outcome predictable.  The good guys got the bad guys.  An added bonus was if she fell asleep before the end there was a very good chance she had seen it before and knew how it ended.  Julian laughed at her.  Calling it her childish need for security in an insecure world.  Julian was cynical.

Olivia locked her door and walking down the hall knocked on a red door exactly like hers.  She could have knocked on the connecting door, but they both honored each other with the formality of using their front doors.  Julian’s muffled voice told her to hold a minute.  Opening the door, Julian was a vision.  His exotic dressing gown, albeit very masculine, was as colorful as a peacock’s plumage.  Her eyes widened as he gave a twirl so she could admire him.

“New?”  Olivia asked as she fingered a fold of the exquisitely soft fabric.

With a wolfish grin, Julian gestured at Charlie and said, “A gift.  Charlie always knows what I need.”

Charlie looked pleased.  He finished dishing up eggs benedict onto the third plate and sat down.  “Toast today?”

“Please.” Responded Olivia as she sat at her place.  Charlie could cook.  He made the best hand squeezed orange juice she had ever tasted.  Reaching for her glass she took a drink.  It hit the spot.  Charlie always made her coffee just like she liked it.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to put off the explanation very long.  With a warm smile for Charlie and a shoulder shrug for Julian she started her explanation with a question.

“What did you mean by the odd question you left on my machine last night?” she asked Julian with an innocent and hopefully bland look on her face.

“Doll.”  Julian usually only called her by that anachronism when he wanted to point out she was lacking in wits.

“What are you doing playing at being a waitress in that low class joint?”  Julian was being deliberately offensive.

“Lorenzo’s isn’t a ‘low class joint’.  True, it is a mom and pop place, but you know it serves some of the best Italian food in town.” Olivia responded with a glare.

“Have it your way.  What are you doing serving excellent Italian food to the plebian masses?”  Julian inquired with a raised eyebrow.

He wasn’t going to leave it alone.  Olivia had known that but it was worth a try to avoid this issue.  Looking at Charlie with an apology in her face, she shrugged and laid town her fork.  The eggs benedict were going to go to waste.  She didn’t feel like eating anymore.

She looked at her plate as she clasped her hands in her lap.

“It can’t be that bad.  Unless we’re broke?”  Julian spoke softly, trying to interject a bit of humor.

Her eyes raised to his and he could see that whatever was the matter was deadly serious to her.

“Ok, Olivia, enough theatrics.  Spill it.”  He flashed a look at Charlie.  “You are making Charlie nervous.”  He pinned her with his ‘this is serious look’.

“Julian, I haven’t known how to tell you about what I’ve been doing or why.  It was something I’ve had to do on my own and now that you know, I feel kind of foolish, but I can’t stop.  Not yet.” Olivia said earnestly. 

“I suppose you think that was clear?”  Julian smiled.  Olivia was one of the most direct people he had ever met.  Anytime she had ever been unclear had been directly related to her emotions.  Unconsciously, he relaxed, whatever the problem was, it didn’t  include the business.  “Try again.”

“Julian, I am not happy.  I want other things in my life and the frustration of not having them are eating away at me.  I want love.  Not just sex, so wipe that smirk off your face!  I want kids.  No, I don’t just want, I need these things.”  The gates of her soul cracked open and out spewed some things she had been holding inside.

“Julian, you are my best friend besides being my business partner.  You are gay.  In a decorators business like ours, that is an asset.  It doesn’t matter if we never discuss your sexuality.  After all it is no one’s damn business but yours.  Ditto for mine.”  Olivia wavered, she didn’t really want to go on, but Julian deserved the truth.

“I can’t get a date, Julian.”  Holding up one palm she forestalled his next comment.  “I mean a real one with the type of man it seems I need.  After last spring, when I went out with Jason Jacobson the third.  I made a list of what I needed.  Working at Lorenzo’s, I have a chance.  That’s why I’ve been there.  Trying.”

Looking pensive, Julian stroked his chin.  This was a leveler.  Olivia was as close as a sister to him.  Closer than his own, actually.  If she had needs not being met.  He’d help.  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.  Looking at Charlie, he said, “What do you want us to do?”  Charlie smiled.

“Nothing.  There isn’t anything you can do.”  Olivia replied, relieved.

Charlie looked at Julian.  He knew it wouldn’t be left there.  He was right.  He watched as Julian snapped his fingers and demanded a list of requirements in this paragon she was hunting.

Olivia surprised them both.  She really had one.  Pulling it from her pocket, she carefully spread open the rumpled sheet of plain ruled notebook paper.  The list was fairly long and had only a few crossed out entries.

As she left, Olivia turned back to Charlie. 

“Charlie, would you design me a robe?”  Olivia asked.  Charlie smiled his soft smile and said “Sure.  But it’ll cost you.” 

Olivia responded with, “It will be worth every penny.”

Charlie’s smile widened into a grin and said, “Yup, it will.”

Olivia laughed and with a small wave of her hand, clicked her fingers and said, “So much for modesty!”

Charlie kissed her cheek and closed the door quietly behind her.  Looking at Julian, he smiled.

Olivia walked down the hallway with a happy lift to her stride.  She hadn’t realized how much pressure she had been under trying to hide this project from Julian.

Passing the elevators she went to a green door on the other side of her suite.  The panel was embossed in black, gold, and silver with ‘Discreet Style’ the name of their chic decorator’s salon.  It too opened up with connecting doors into her condo.  Whenever they did a showing it gave them ample room to entertain in and extra bathrooms.  In the beginning it kept their costs down to use personal space as business space occasionally.  It also kept them very exclusive.  One wasn’t expected to invite any just any yahoo into their home.

Going to her office, she stepped to the window.  Drawn by the ant-like activity, she looked over at the construction project a few blocks over.  It had been during the deconstruction phase of the old parking structure that used to cover that block that she had started thinking about her life.  That and ending a dating relationship abruptly with Jason Jacobson the Jerk. 

She reflected on the building’s progress.  So far, it didn’t really look like much.  She didn’t know how it was supposed to look when finished.  It reminded her of her own personal project.  It seemed they were at the same point.

That particular pivotal day she had been watching the deconstruction crew work at removing the old bent steel beams and cement chunks of the parking structure and felt like it was time to do something like that for herself.  The Jerk had been the explosion that took out the last of her blindness to the drifting along that she had been doing, just like the explosion that leveled the old parking structure.

She guessed she had more in common with the old building than she had even thought at the time.  She had been getting older while going nowhere.  Making the decision that day hadn’t been hard, it had been inevitable.  She was going to sweep the debris of her old life away and build a shining plan for her future.

A few days after the parking garage was no more, she had been watching when the last truck left with the debris and returned.  The clean-up had gone amazingly quickly.   She had been gazing absently at the construction guys that were measuring out the bare site, when one in particular caught her eye.  He wasn’t the tallest man in a hard hat that she had ever seen.  Since she was five foot seven inches in her stockings she usually dated taller men.  It was the way he carried himself and the way his shirt stretched over his arms and shoulders as he pointed out some obscure something to the man he was helping that held her attention.  Maybe she had been looking in the wrong place for the right man.  Maybe she needed to really think about what she needed in a man. 

Making her list of requirements in a man wasn’t as hard as she had thought it would be when she first started.  However, it had amused her when she noticed the first requirement was that it wasn’t just a man she wanted:  It was a husband.  Then she realized it was more.  She wanted children.

It had taken three days to make a comprehensive list.  She had wanted to sleep on some of the ideas.  She had tweaked the plans to even include physical characteristics she required. She had been back at the window watching the men in hard hats on the new construction project when she decided she was going to need one of them for the job.

She hadn’t actually cared too much about what her man did for a living, but putting the list all together, a construction worker fit the bill very neatly.  Here was an entire crew not three blocks away.  Surely there would be some unattached ones.

She spent another few days plotting how to throw herself in front of a construction crew

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