Page 50 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“Hmm?”

Jake’s gaze was incisive, as if reading her mind. “I asked what you wanted. Vegetarian, Greek, or meat-lovers?”

“Greek sounds amazing.” The words were devoid of emotion as she shook off her confusing thoughts. “What can I get everyone to drink?”

“Diet Coke.” Olivia’s choice.

“Water.”

She grabbed a Diet Coke for herself and joined Jake and Olivia who’d set the dining room table. Surprised at how hungry she was, she bit into the pizza.“Oh, my.”

Jake’s eyes were alight with glee. “It's one of the best I've ever tasted. And I’ve had pizza in both New York and Italy.”

“You're not kidding, this is divine.” Although not a great connoisseur of pizza, she recognized excellence when she tasted it.

Olivia picked at her vegetarian slice.

“Still full from lunch?”

She seemed uncertain, looking at first Marnie then Jake. “The nausea comes and goes.”

Marnie was sympathetic.Be gentle.“You were in rough shape a few days ago. You need to acknowledge your body is still recovering.”

“About that…” Olivia started, faltered.

The adults exchanged a quick glance of shared understanding. They’d give her space.

She picked an onion off her pizza and popped it in her mouth. “I meant what I said to you, Uncle Jake, it really was my first time using Oxy, and I really wasn't trying to kill myself.”

“And I might believe you, except you overdosed alone in that…that horrible place.”

The young woman shifted uncomfortably, not meeting either adult’s gaze. “I might’ve been hanging around people who might’ve been using. I got the drugs from them.”

“Olivia.” Marnie's voice was soft, and her tone nonjudgmental. These were hard admissions for the younger woman to make.

Next came a slice of green pepper. “I was lonely, and these guys didn't care who I was. They didn't care about my past.”

“There's comfort in that.” Marnie mentally pushed her plate away. “I remember my first day at work. The people who surrounded me had no idea of my identity. They saw me as some enthusiastic volunteer.”

“Where do you volunteer?”

Finally, a spark of interest from the young woman.

“The library. I found a library in a little town that was looking for a volunteer. Eventually they hired me, and I’ve spent four years being someone else. A survivor instead of a victim.”

“It sounds nice.” Olivia took a tentative bite of her pizza, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. She took a swig of cola. “After my mother pimped me out to the media, I lost any chance of being left alone. Anytime a child goes missing, they come knocking and Mommy Dearest is always happy to let them in.”

“I’m not going to disparage your mother, but that isn't right. My father was a bastard, but he still had his people keep the media at bay. After a while, it eased off, but I was a prisoner in my father's home. I couldn’t conceive why so many were interested in my story—except they seemed to be. I needed a fresh start.” Marnie took a sip of her drink, pleased to find her hand steady.

“Did it help?”

She met Olivia's gaze head-on. Her answer was crucial. “Did it help to escape the scrutiny? Yes. Was running away the right thing to do? That's not as simple. In retrospect, I should've stayed in counseling.” She fluffed her bangs between her fingers. “A dye job and change of town didn't solve my problems.”

Olivia shifted in her chair. “I dumped my shrink months ago. He kept trying to make me talk about it. I needed to move on.”

“I felt the same way. There are days when I still do.” Marnie’s stomach contracted when she reflected upon her past.Am I still running?Her paranoia and skittishness were proof she wasn't as immune as she pretended to be.

Looking down at her plate, the young woman seemed surprised to see a good portion of the food gone. “I'm tired.”

---