Page 7 of Between Desire and Denial
“Normally, I live by a phrase just like that, but—”
“What’s the phrase?” she asked as her thumbs moved lightning fast, typing away on that phone like she was reporting an emergency.
“It’s ‘take a chance and enjoy the damn dance’, but—”
“Oh, that’s perfect.” She nodded without looking up.
“But,” I emphasized my hesitation now, “what could possibly need to be written so quickly tonight?”
“Give me a second.” She glanced up and narrowed her eyes at me. “By the way, don’t you have something better to be doing than hovering over me?”
“As a matter of fact, I did invite a few guests to the reception.” I smirked at her golden eyes rolling. She saw the women I was with earlier. “They’re willing to wait while I finish making sure my friend doesn’t do something she regrets tonight.”
She blew a raspberry and I could feel her emotions skittering around in her head, like she couldn’t trust her relationships at all anymore. Rufford had already changed her perception and it was a fucking shame. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me, Dimitri. We’re notthatclose.”
That was a bold statement for her to make. She normally was cordial with me, even if we mostly made small talk. Her cheeks reddened, and it was clear she thought so too as I stared at her, waiting to see if she’d apologize.
“It’s just… we hang out because of Kee.”
“Kee is a mutual friend of ours,” I confirmed. Keelani Hale, now Hardy and now my sister-in-law, was the glue to our group. Olive was her PA, and I was her childhood best friend. It’d beenthat way for years. “We’ve hung out enough for me to care about you, Olive. Don’t say otherwise.”
She shrugged her bare shoulders and looked away. “Okay.”
“Would you disagree?” Now I was curious. Did she think she didn’t matter at all to me? Had it come off that way?
“I think you see me as a nuisance. Young. Naive. I think you indulge Kee’s wishes of me being around, but you wouldn’t entertain my presence otherwise. You see no value in me, and…” She took a deep breath. “You try to find value in everything and every person you surround yourself with. So, I’m irrelevant to you.”
“Interesting.” It was the only response I could make. I wasn’t a liar, and she’d pretty much hit the nail on the head with our relationship up to that point. Except now, tonight, with her in front of me, it felt like something more. “That’s what you believe I think of you. What do you think of me?”
“I think you’re egotistical. You get to be because you’re smart—you didn’t get lucky with your investment choices. You’re a workaholic. You don’t commit to anything except that… and your friends and family. You’re a great friend to Kee. An amazing brother to Dex. But I’m not your friend or a part of your family, so I’m confused as to why you’re still sitting here.”
“Call it curiosity.”
And her laugh rang out through the bar. Her eyes twinkled and her hair almost bounced as she shook with giggles at my statement. “I’m curious. You’re not. You couldn’t care less about the people who don’t add value to your life. Time is money to you, and you love money, Dimitri. So, again, I’m confused,” she threw out. It made me respect her even more.
“Honestly, let’s blame it on Kee.” It was the only rational answer I had right then. “She’ll be worried tomorrow if you do something tonight, and she’ll call me because of it.”
“You act like I can’t make an informed decision.” Her bottom lip pouted out, and I found myself wondering how soft it would be against my mouth. My thoughts were still on that photo obviously. It was the only excuse I had.
“I’m not sure you can right now.” I pointed to her phone again.
That’s when her big, doe eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip. “Okay, since you’re the mature one, tell me how it sounds.”
She handed me her phone to read the email.
Professor Rufford Butson has been a tenured faculty member at Alcove University for ten years. His research on social media and its impact on teen girls has provided companies with substantial data.
He first liked my social media page four years ago and sent me a private message about how I would be a great addition to the journalism department. I was young, moldable, and gullible. My social media platform showed my life story. I documented my ups and downs in a way that someone could easily assess my weaknesses and strengths. It’s apparent now that Rufford Butson took advantage of that.
Our last string of correspondence includes the attached messages and photos.
Yes, I’m a woman scorned. But I’m also a woman seeking justice. I spent most of my time in graduate school in the journalism program working on research with him. Again, please see attached documents. I would like my name to remain on the works I helped to research and publish. I also would like the record to show I requested this and would like to finish my thesis under the supervision of another professor and withoutProfessor Butson being a part of its presentation, submission, review, or defense.
Signed,
Olive Monroe
“You’re putting your name?” I asked in surprise as I scrolled up to see the picture she attached. “You cropped your face from the picture to—"
