Page 42 of Call My Bluff
In the last four days alone, she’d been on two child-removal calls—one of which required police intervention—and observed one ugly meeting between a set of parents, a case worker and the district attorney. But she’d also been privileged to see a little boy go home with his forever family, and then she’d helped plan a teenager’s first-ever birthday party. Olivia knew she’dnever forget the look on the girl’s face when she’d realized the setup was for her.
The career field she’d chosen would definitely have its ups and downs... She just hoped she could handle all of them.
“If you’ve applied to graduate school, you should be hearing from them by the end of next month,” Dr. Samson said, but her thought was cut short by a knock at the door. The confused professor left her podium to answer it, and Olivia felt the attention level in the hall rise like the tide. There was a moment of hushed conversation by the door—during which it seemed as if Dr. Samson would deny the visitor entry—but then she relented.
“Students, it seems we’ll have abriefintermission,” she said, emphasizing the wordbrief, “in the name of love.”
“In the name ofwhat?” Clara whispered, but Olivia only shrugged in confusion. She didn’t know anything more than the next person.
The whole class watched as four young men in matching navy sport coats entered the room in single file. One was carrying a small speaker, which he set on the now-empty podium. Dr. Samson waited with her shoulder propped against the wall and her brows arched, clearly as mystified as the rest of the room.
“Is Olivia Cohen in here?” the guy with the speaker asked, and Olivia felt her blood run cold. Clara swiveled in her seat and leaned back, her face alight with a thousand silent questions. Olivia gave her friend the tiniest silent shake of her head and hoped she would get the message.
No. Please, no.
“Olivia?” the guy asked again, and when Olivia made no motion to answer, Clara’s hand shot into the air.
“She’s up here!” she called.
Olivia turned to her friend with fire in her eyes. “Traitor!” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Clara grinned broadly, practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh, come on! Let me live vicariously!” she begged.
Olivia thought of a few retorts, but it was too late to give them. Three of the intruders were already climbing the lecture hall stairs, and a familiar beat was coming from the speaker down below. The quartet started to snap their fingers in time.
What was happening?!
The closest man, obviously the ringleader of this little band, broke into the opening line of “My Girl” by The Temptations just as he reached Olivia’s row. Olivia felt her entire body gain a thousand pounds and do its best to sink through the bottom of her chair. Of all the days in the year to find an aisle seat!
The song went on, all four boys now staggered along the stairs beside her as they harmonized on the chorus, and many of Olivia’s classmates seemed to have joined in as well. At least, the sound had grown exponentially louder since the first verse—though that might have just been the blood pounding in her ears.
Clara latched both hands onto her arm. “You should see your face!” she said gleefully, but Olivia didn’t have toseeher face. She couldfeelit, every single inch, as her skin seemed to vibrate of its own accord. What in the world—
Her confusion was put to rest as the song ended. The room broke into applause and cheers, and one of the singers laid a blank white notecard on the tabletop in front of her. At least, the side facing up was blank, but when she snatched it and turned it over, the opposite side sported a single sentence in cramped print.
“All hail my warrior princess.”
Olivia felt her blood pressure rise even further, and her fingers actually shook.
Noah. Campbell.
He didn’t know when to give up, did he?
She crumpled the card in her hand and stuffed it into her backpack. If he wanted a fight, then he’d get one.
And he’d regret it.
Two days later,Olivia put her car in park in front of Watson’s Grocery Store and flipped down the visor mirror to double-check her reflection. Then, she rolled her shoulders back and tried to remember every word her high school theatre teacher had ever said.
Own the room. Feel your character. Play to the audience.
She let out a long, calming sigh and craned her neck to peer through her windshield and into the front store windows. There he was, stacking what looked like boxes of canned soda near the registers. The store seemed fairly quiet for the moment, though there were customers in two checkout lanes and a small cluster of people in employee uniforms loitering around the service desk.
Perfect.
Olivia grabbed a small, insulated bag from her passenger’s seat and took it with her as she climbed from the car and started her march toward the store. The click of her heels on the pavement provided a background beat for the swing of her hips, and she tried to imagine she was on some kind of fashion runway.
One that led straight past a large advertisement for cocktail sauce... but no matter.
