Page 19 of Pieces Into Place

“I don’t,” I counter. “I just happened to be in the vicinity of a conversation about the new janitor.”

“Huh?” His eyebrows rise in interest. “What were they saying?”

“People are talking about how mean you are,” I reply nonchalantly. “And ugly.”

He looks startled by the description. “Ugly? What kind of ugly?”

“Elephant-man ugly,” I declare, meeting his gaze with a smile.

“Wow,” he draws out. “Well, I wouldn’t want to hold you up by making you look at my hideous face any longer.”

“I appreciate that,” I say as I step around his large frame to walk past him.

“Have a good day, Olivia.” I can hear the humor in his voice as he calls out to me.

And wouldn’t you know it? The sound of my name rolling off his lips makes me smile despite my best efforts not to. And then I realize, I never gave him my name.

Chapter ten

Olivia

The following week and a half goes smoothly. My class is settling into the groove of the new school year, and I’m getting to know them better. We have a good time reading and working on math, but my favorite part of the day is our afternoon sing-alongs. Every afternoon after lunch, we sing and dance to get the wiggles out.

It’s a time when I’m allowed to be a silly kid myself. Sometimes, I wonder if I crave that time because my childhood was cut short. I don’t let myself dwell on it, but it crosses my mind sometimes. Maybe I’m just a kid at heart? Regardless, singing Itsy Bitsy Spider with a room of six-year-olds is simply the best part of my day.

I’ve seen Kane around the school, mostly in the hallway near my classroom and in the cafeteria. I stand by my theory that he’s obsessed with me, but there is no proof of this yet. He has this mysterious way about him, as if he’s hiding something by just standing quietly and observing everything.

The teachers are all friendly to him. He dresses nicely in slacks and ironed button-down shirts. Although he does wear different shirts each day, I haven’t noticed any wrinkles on them, which tells me he irons his shirts every night before bed. His hair stays perfectly styled over his forehead, with a couple strands resolutely out of place. He could have been the inspiration behind one of Michalangelo’s marble busts worthy of the Vatican; however, I’m sure Michalangelo would have stabbed him with a mallet and chisel before his commission ended. I try to avoid looking at him as much as possible because every time I look at him my heart beats faster and my cheeks flush pink. Why am I affected by him? It isn’t just his good looks; it’s something else more basic and instinctual that draws me to him like a moth to an open flame, or in this case, an intelligent woman to a dumbass.

My mind drifts to him as I prepare for the back-to-school festivities. I slip into a pair of jeans and a soft sweater that is the color of butter and just as soft I opt for the most comfortable flats I own. Last year, I attempted to dress up in a sundress and heels, and spent most of the night regretting it as my feet throbbed for the rest of the weekend.

It’ll be dark outside when I come home so I walk around the apartment closing all the blinds. I don’t feel safe with people being able to peek into my space at night. Even though I know it’s irrational, it’s a precaution that comes from my dangerous upbringing.

I lean toward my living room window to shut the curtains when I see someone across the street on a motorcycle. It’s clear that it is a man from his build wearing a helmet and a dark visor facing my apartment. I duck back quickly as all sorts of thoughts rush through my head: is he affiliated with my father’s mob? Does he work for someone else in the criminal underworld? Or is he connected to anyone related to my past life?

From the corner of my eye, I recall last week’s incident when a motorcycle rider made me drop my coffee. Although it could have been the same guy, his behavior didn’t scream dangerous. Yet, why mess with me?

I peek around the curtain for another look at the man, but the spot on the curb is deserted. Maybe I was overreacting; maybe he wasn’t even looking into my apartment. Could be just my jittery mind playing tricks on me.

Instead of staying in all weekend frozen in fear, I push those thoughts away and go out. My decision to not let fear be the captain of my life was made years ago, and I’m not going back on that now. With that thought, I grab my pan of brownies and head out.

When I arrive at school, I spot a few teachers and parents already bustling about, inspecting the decorations and food. One parent even volunteered to provide the music for tonight. It’s likely his son is embarrassed that his father is here, but one day he will appreciate the love and effort put into his life. I would do anything to spend more time with my mother.

“Hey, Olivia,” Andrea hollers from beside the table of snacks. I carry over the brownies and together we catch up on small talk.

“Are you pumped for tonight?” I joke.

“You bet! Especially since Kane will be here. I’m hoping I get to chat with him some,” she answers. Good luck with that. The man has the conversational skills of a potato.

I cock an eyebrow in surprise. “Kane is coming to this? Why?”

Andrea shrugs and remarks, “They wanted a few extra guys here for safety.”

I answer with an unenthusiastic, “Oh yeah, that makes sense.”

“Speak of the devil,” she says as Kane steps into the gymnasium. His black tee shirt is tight around his chest and back, his jeans fit him snugly in all the right places.

“He makes one helluva security guard,” Andrea comments. “That man can protect me any day of the week!”