Illuminate

Chapter 8

R-r-r-ring!

My phone rang. My apartment building was on a party line, which meant I was only supposed to pick up the phone on my particular ring.

I picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Olivia!" I recognized Oliver's voice immediately. "This is Veya
Arvin's residence, isn't it?" He asked.

I laughed. "Of course. Hello, Oliver."

"Listen," he began, "are you available for dinner on Friday night?"

I checked the calendar. Two nights from now, and I had nothing happening. "Okay. I'm not busy."

"Wonderful! I'll be by to pick you up by seven o'clock."

His words were gentle, but it still hurt. This was my first date since the one where Roger dumped me.
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Only two hours later, my phone rang again. Mistaking it as my ring, I picked it up. Once the person started talking, and I realized it wasn't my call, I took the phone from my ear. As I was about to set it down, I clearly heard "Veya" from the callers' end of the line. Interested, ( and a little creeped,) I resumed listening.

"...doesn't know. Got that?" One voice said.

"Affirmative." Ruth? Why was she talking to a random stranger about me? At least, I was pretty sure they were.

The conversation was resumed by the caller. "Don't say anything to anyone, okay? I need it to be a surprise. This can't get out. I can't say over the phone what we're going to do, but it won't be pleasant."

Ruth coughed. I was sure it was her because she always coughed as daintily as possible. She cleared her throat and replied. "Oh, please. Be serious for once. Of course I won't tell anyone."

"Okay, then. See you soon."

They said their goodbyes, and I set my phone down slowly with a shocked face. The phone cradle clicked as both surfaces met.

I knew who the caller was.
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I woke up in my bed, surrounded by a comforting wall of sheets and pillows. I yawned, disgruntled, and my head throbbed sharply.

Dragging myself all the way, I made myself some coffee in the kitchen. It helped me to wake up and erase my headache (along with a few aspirin).

Thursday. One day until my dinner with Oliver, and who-knows-when until my worst nightmare.

I didn't believe it was possible to forget so much about a person, even one as vile as Bert Crewell. He hadn't ever been significant in my life until last night.

Bert was from my hometown back in America. To be blunt, there was nothing less than mutual resentment between us. In high school, when Roger and I dated, he was so jealous of us. He also happened to be Roger's best friend. When we graduated college, and Roger got a job, Crewell practically jumped to his side as his personal assistant. That's all he was good for, so the title of PA was almost too generous.

Ruth. One of my closest friends here in London. I don't know why she backstabbed me, but it almost made sense in a way. Who was always present while I spilled my heart about Roger, and who was there through probably all of Margaret's excited babbling about me? Everyone knew that Margaret couldn't usually handle herself with big news.

Still, knowing my friend had hurt me in this way-emotionally; even physically, in a way-formed a deep scar.
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After work, I called Oliver at his office. He picked up nearly immediately.

"Oliver?" I could barely contain the desperation in my voice.

"Veya! Is something wrong?" He sounded extremely concerned.

"Oliver, I need to talk to you." I started crying. "It's serious. I need to get out of this city. I'm not safe anymore. They're going to do something bad to me," I blubbered.

"What? How did you find this out? Roger?" He managed to choke out.

"I heard them on the phone yesterday on the party line in my apartment. Ruth's in on it, too." I sobbed, probably making some disgusting noises into the phone as I blew my nose.

He gasped.

"You don't know what Roger's capable of," I whimpered.

"We'll talk more tomorrow night. You need to get far away, and I'm going to help you."

It was nice to have somebody I could actually rely on again, especially someone as wonderful and loving as Oliver.