Breath Of Life

“Hey, Ollie, what’s up?”

“We got the pictures back from the shoot.”

“And how are they?” I ask cautiously.

“Really good. As the head of PR, it’s my job to go through them and decide which we’re going to use. I thought maybe you could come over and look them over with me.”

“I could, but it’ll cost you.”

“Umm, okay?”

I laugh. “I just got done with a gig, and I’m starving. If you order a pizza, I’m there.”

“I can do that. What toppings?”

“I’m a purest ... pepperoni and cheese?”

“Done. When can I expect you?”

“Give me twenty minutes, I have to change.”

“Okay, I’m intrigued.”

“Don’t be, its heels and a little black dress.”

“You sure you have to change?”

My eyes widen. Is he really making a move on me right now?

“I’ll be overdressed if I don’t, unless you plan on putting on a dress shirt and slacks.”

“Next time.”

His cocky attitude makes me smile. He sounds like the Ollie I first met.

“Promises, promises. See you soon, Ollie.” I hang up feeling a bit of my swagger return. I still got it.

I kick off my heels and hurry to my room, slipping out of my dress. The promise of food and good company hastens my movements. After throwing on an old pair of blue jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt that hints at my cleavage without showing too much, I slip on my socks and black and white tennis shoes. It’s casual yet plays up my best attributes. I’m not looking for anything to happen, but it doesn’t hurt to put a little effort in. The attraction between us has been muted by circumstances, but it’s still there. I check my makeup and apply a little more powder before I head out.

OLLIE

I hurry around the house straightening up things that are out of place. It feels good to be back to work, even if it's from home. I’ll hit the shop next week. Whether I’m ready for it or not. This will be my first time looking at the shoot. It’s like a ‘before my life changed forever’ photo. It only seems right I share this with Quinn. The thing about internal scars is on the outside looking in, you appear fine. So no one truly understands the complete metamorphosis you’re going through. Like a caterpillar emerging from a cocoon, I’m a completely different human being now. Even I am uncertain of how deep that change runs.

I toss my last dirty shirt into the hamper in my room and move to the bathroom. I’m fairly neat, but this busy work helps me keep my nerves in check. Satisfied with my clean up job, I order the pizza and park myself in front of the desk where the photos await.

I used to love this part of my job, deciding what images and events would strengthen our brand and get the right kind of potential clients in. I’m a people person. I get the way they think and what they want. This allowed me to use the skills that came naturally to me while remaining artistic. The co-running of the day-to-day operations is just the price I have to pay to do what I love.

I scrub my face with my hand. I’ve missed a lot in the past month. Part of me is worried about going back and picking up where I left off. I’ve never had this much down time since Maloney Mechanic’s inception. We worked out asses off making a name for ourselves and bringing in enough work to pay the bills. I never could’ve imagined we’d end up being one of the top car restoration shops in our state. I’m proud of what Houston and I have accomplished. Everyone thought we were two best friends playing at being business owners.

I guess we showed them. If two men in their mid-thirties can take a chance and turn it into a goldmine, I can get over this and move forward. There’s a real fear that the robber stole a piece of my soul I’ll never get back. It’ll take up to six months minimum for me to fully heal. I understand that, but I don’t feel like myself. The soreness is fading, the physical therapy is continuing twice a week, and yet I’m no closer to being whole. Closing my eyes, I massage my temples as the stress of unanswered questions becomes an invisible vise threatening to squeeze my brain.

A knock sounds and I’m grateful for the distraction it provides. The woman on the other side of my door is a highlight. With her full lips, quick wit, and all too tempting packaging, she occupies more of my thoughts during my waking hours—and some of my sleeping—than she should.

I stride toward the door and open it up with a smile. “I’m glad you came.”

“We’ll see if you’re still saying that when I eat you out of house and home. Did you order two larges?”

I smirk. “I did.”