Theo: You bougie Hollywood brats. Anyway, have a great day Liv!
Tate: Not our fault you didn’t get drafted by the best team in the league in a cool city. Enjoying Siberia?
Uncle Luc: Happy Liv Day sweetheart. And Tate, it's Canada, not Siberia.
Tate: Same difference. Is it snowing yet?
Theo: F.U.
Harlow: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIVVY. Ignore them.
Another four messages, well wishes from Uncle Cole, Auntie Leah, Conner, and Mae all flood in as I’m reading but I can’t respond because my phone rings and it makes my stomach drop. It’s Detective Morales. I never listened to his message or called him back.
“Hello,” I say and before he can respond I add, “It’s my birthday and I really do not want to deal with this today.”
“I’m sorry Olivia,” he says sympathetically. “I didn’t know. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
“Unfortunately though, I have a job to do and part of that is informing you of the trial date,” he explains. “We got one. End of next month. On the twenty-ninth.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I swallow but my mouth is dry. I try to get out of the chair so I can get the water my masseuse placed on the side table next to an aromatherapy candle. I can’t get out without tipping over so I just lie back and sigh. “Do I have to be there?”
“Yes. You have to testify. It’s very important. Mr. And Mrs. Jackson will also be doing so,” he explains. They are the couple that saved me.
“Okay.” I don’t want to. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to relive it. I just want to forget it. But I also don’t want him to go free and do this again. Whatever this was. I’m still not sure. “Did he… has he ever said what the hell he was thinking?”
“He isn’t saying anything. He pleaded innocent.”
“That’s bullshit. Excuse me.”
“No excusing needed. It is bullshit,” he replies candidly. “He has no case. He’s just prolonging the inevitable. He’s going to blame drugs or something, like it wasn’t his fault. He’s an addict. But don’t worry, no one walks with that. But we definitely need to hear your side.”
“Okay.” What else can I say? He gives me the details of the time I need to be at the Santa Monica courthouse. I thank him and hang up. I’m adding the details to my calendar when Esmeralda walks in with a friendly smile.
I lie back and try not to let this ruin the rest of my day. But it kind of does. By the time I'm walking up the stairs to my apartment, I'm despondent. How am I going to get up there and face this guy? What if his lawyer rips me apart like they do on those legal shows on TV? Makes it my fault? Because I wasn't paying enough attention. I was walking alone. I was…
My mother would kick my ass if she heard me blaming myself. Maybe it’s time I called her. Maybe I need her advice. Maybe I can’t get through this on my own.
I stop dead at the end of the hall. There’s the biggest bouquet of flowers I have ever seen in front of my door. My eyes dart everywhere, over the railing and down at the courtyard. No one is around. Not another tenant. Not the landlord. Not a delivery person. I walk slowly to the door, my eyes taking in the colorful roses. They’re so freaking many of them and they’re in so many colors. I keep staring at them, amazed, and then sniff. Even from a standing position, with the massive vase at my feet, I can smell their rich, luxurious scent.
They’re fluffy roses. I don’t know how else to explain them. The petals are all wide and delicate and… velvety looking. There are… twelve white ones, twelve pink ones, twelve yellow ones, twelve red ones. I crouch down and pluck the card from the center.
These have got to be for Tenley. Maybe it’s the Amazon guy? I mean with Tenley it could be anyone. But as I turn it over, the name on the front of the card is mine. Mine. “Oh my God,” I whisper. I mean, was there an error? Sure someone in my family might send me flowers but not this many!
I tear open the envelope and read the card, expecting it to be Harlow or Shelby or even Mallory’s name signed at the bottom. But there isn’t a name. Just an initial. C.
And the note… oh the note…
Olivia,
Happy birthday. Go easy on the Fireball tonight. Or don’t and give me a call.
Whatever you do, enjoy it.
All my best, C
I realize I’m grinning when my cheeks start to ache. He did not. Except… he did. I unlock the front door and carefully lift the vase. Damn, forty-eight roses are heavy!