Page 29 of Baby, It's You
She takes off her red sweater and as she shimmies out of it, I notice a tiny tattoo on the inside of her arm. It looks like a flower of some sort. She meets my eyes and I quickly look down at my camera, adjusting the settings to accommodate the dark bar. I press record and begin to walk around, taking different angles of the signs and tables. I then pan the camera up towards Olive and see that she's over at the jukebox, clicking through the options.
“I always turn on my favorite songs while I prep the bar for the day. Do you mind?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, not telling her I will probably have to change the audio if I use any of these clips, so I don’t have to deal with copyright issues. I just want to see her in her element. I hear a joyous beat start to play through the speakers and instantly recognize the song, because my mom played it all the time when I was a child. It’s “9 to 5” by Dolly Parton.
“This is my cleaning song,” Olive shouts out over the music and begins to sing along. She's not the least bit in tune, but somehow that makes it even better. I appreciate it when someone isn’t the best singer but belts it out anyway. That’s a confidence everyone should aspire to have.
I film her as she grabs a towel from behind the bar and dramatically wipes the counter with it, swaying her body to the beat. I watch her through my screen, unable to look away. Her dark hair swishes across her face and she flips it back with herempty hand. I walk closer to her, feeling like a voyeur watching something intimate, a routine she usually does alone. The song ends then and she looks up at me and lets out a laugh.
“How was that?” Her cheeks are red with excitement.
“You're perfect,” I quietly respond while setting my camera down on a nearby table.
“What?” she asks.
Thankful that she didn't hear me, I recover quickly. “I said ‘perfect.’”
“Alright, great!” She smiles and nods. “Now what?”
“Now I will look around.”
I put my hands behind my back and turn towards a wall. I read some names and random words and laugh at some drunken scribbles. Then I stop in front of a giant pink Sharpie drawing of a bumblebee with the words “I came for a beer and left with bees” underneath it.
I chuckle and point at it. “I choose this one.”
Olive walks up to stand beside me. “Perfect, because I know that story.” She turns to smile at me. “And it's a good one.”
I look down at her and match her grin. “Let’s do it.”
“Right now?” she asks.
“Yup, we are good to go.” I pick up my equipment bag and sling it over my shoulder.
“Well then, we will need to visit a friend of mine across the street. Follow me.”
She grabs her keys, slips her cardigan back on, and begins to head through the kitchen door. Quickly, I jog to catch up with her.
“Has anyone ever told you that you walk very fast?” I ask her.
“All the time. It’s my long gazelle legs,” she responds, her dress swishing, but she still doesn’t slow down.
I use all my self-control to not look at these long gazelle legs as she walks ahead. I love the fact that she’s tall and carries herself with confidence.
We cross the street and walk over to a small store called The Mart.
Chapter 21
Olive
We step into the store and Mr. Ray sits behind the checkout counter, where he reliably rests on his stool and stares at his tiny TV. You can always count on him watching golf or a trashy court show where ex-couples fight over who gets to keep the pet in the breakup. Sometimes while I’m at the counter paying, the episodes are so juicy that I will stand there with him and wait for the verdict before I leave the shop. Today he's watching the pet court show.
When he sees me, Mr. Ray lights up. “Olive!Pet Paternityis on! This couple is fighting over who gets to keep their Betta fish. The guy is crying.”
I walk over quickly. “No way! A real tearjerker.” I lean over the counter for a better view to watch the drama unfold.
After a few minutes, Mr. Ray looks behind me and clears his throat. I realize Hunter is standing behind there. Wow, I'm so rude. I was sucked in by the glitz and glamour of reality TV and forgot about the whole reason why I walked in here.
I turn towards Hunter. “I’m so sorry. We have a mild obsession with this cheesy reality show.” I glance back at Mr. Ray. “Mr. Ray, I would like to introduce you to Hunter, a badassskateboarding filmer who has graciously decided to shoot a series about the bar.”
