My training schedule for Oliver was going to have to wait. Last night or more correctly very early that morning I was abruptly woken up by banging at my door. A moment after the first fist hit the door I had been out of bed and against the far wall with the gun I slept with pointed at the door. I soundlessly approached the door and looked through the peephole to see a grumpy-looking Dwight. I had quickly hidden my gun in my waistband and opened the door. Dwight told me I had two minutes to get ready for a rigorous hike and then turned and started pounding on Elena’s door across the hall.
Two minutes later, I walked out of the hotel with a grumpy Dwight and a sleepy looking Elena. Fifteen minutes later, I was in a helicopter next to my teammates. Sixty minutes after that our entire team was dropped off in the middle of the forest and told we had four days to get back to the Whistler compound. We were given a map, sparse camping equipment for five, and a bottle of water each.
I had grown up in cities. I knew how to survive on the streets but didn’t know the first thing about surviving in the wilderness. Jon went through the supplies and noted that we did not have enough food for five people for the trip. That had to indicate we were supposed to hunt for food. And while I was a good shot, I had never killed an animal before, let alone eat it afterward. I took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare myself for a very long four-day trek in the middle of fucking Montana.
Long didn’t even begin to describe what those four days were like. It was a blur of exhaustion, dirt, bugs, and whatever the man version of bickering is. Each Victor, Jon, and Amir had ideas about how we should gather food and water but they refused to listen to one another. The first two days reminded me of some pointless reality TV show where there was only drama and no plot. At one point Victor and Amir actually came to blows over how to set a game snare. Oliver was worse at being in nature than I was and moved through the forest with loud clumsy steps that scared away any critter that we could have turned into dinner.
The entire ordeal reminded me why I didn’t like people and by the end, my mood was so dismal that I hadn’t spoken a word in the last 36 hours. Our team finally walked through the Whistler security gates mid-morning on the fourth day. I was covered in about an inch of dirt and grime that included some deer blood from the one animal that Amir was able to kill. What I wanted, was a long hot shower, a nap on a soft pillow top bed, and some peace and quiet away from the rest of my team.
I did get my shower and a meal that I didn’t have to scavenge for. But instead of some alone time after lunch, Jon had us use the afternoon to work on our plans for the mock security scenarios we would run in a week’s time. Our plans for protecting the diplomat were fairly well thought out because it was just another thing that the boys had fought over while hiking. I had stopped providing ideas after a day of being completely ignored.
After hours of planning and running through contingency scenarios, Jon called it a night and told us he would see us on Monday morning. This caused me to pause because It was only Saturday.
“What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday. We have Sundays off,” Victor replied as he rubbed his hands together. “That means it is time to hit the bars and find some female company.”
Oh God, I thought to myself. I didn’t think I could watch Victor pick up women after four days of his constant company. I had decided that Victor was the embodiment of the immature boy in a man’s body. It wasn’t that I disliked him, but there was only so much of his personality that I could handle at one time.
I let the others leave the room as I slowly packed up my laptop and the notes I had been making on our plans. To my surprise, Oliver also lingered in the room.
“We are going out too,” he told me with a set to his jaw that illustrated that he thought I would refuse. Guess that he was getting to know me a bit. “We just spent four days in the dirt and mud. We need to reintegrate into civilized society.”
“I doubt what Victor has planned for tonight would be considered civilized,” I retorted.
“Then we won’t go wherever he is going. We can find our own place. Helena is not Los Angeles, but I am sure we can find something that will tickle your fancy.”
“I don’t make a habit of tickling anything Oliver.”
“All the more reason to go out with me tonight. Come on Payton, live a little.” That comment hit home. I had never been able to just go out with friends and enjoy a Saturday night. Maybe Oliver was right, it was time for me to live a little. With that thought in mind, I nodded to Oliver and we headed out to his car.
Oliver took us to a trendy-looking bar in downtown Helena called Whiskeys. As I entered, I scanned the room for possible threats and identified the exits. The bartender was a well-built man that scanned the crowd often which told me that he probably doubled as the bouncer. There was a group of guys in the back corner that looked a little rowdy but overall I decided they were harmless red-neck football-fan types. The other people in the bar either seemed to be paired off or made up of single people that would soon find someone to pair with.
We took stools at the bar and ordered drinks. I ordered a local draft beer while Oliver asked for a cosmopolitan. The burly bartender gave him a questioning look but made the pink drink and handed it over. Oliver downed the drink like it was water and indicated that he wanted another. I raised my eyebrow at him as I sipped on my beer.
“What, it has been a really long week,” Oliver replied in explanation. I flashed back on the long cold nights sleeping on the ground listening to the silence of the forest that was only interrupted by the howls of coyotes and Victor’s snoring and could only agree. “This program is nothing like I had imagined. I thought it would be mostly team-building exercises and maybe me showing off my computer skills. Instead, we get military boot camp with a bunch of over-competitive assholes.” His second drink was served, and he took a large gulp before continuing, “My brother’s team isn’t like that. They are all laid back and more focused on working together for the current job than showing each other up.”
I was curious about current Whistler teams, so I pushed on Oliver to elaborate. “You have mentioned your brother’s team before. What are they like?”
“Well their team leader is Ethan and he is a little older than everyone else, maybe in his forties. He is a good leader but can be a little intense. He is very protective of his people and seems to choose a lot of jobs for the team that involve some sort of rescue effort. Each of the teams ends up specializing in a specific type of job. Chirs’ team get really intense jobs and I always thought that was because of Ethan.”
“Your brother talks to you about the jobs that they do?” I asked because I was under the impression that we would have to sign ironclad NDAs that would prevent us from talking about anything we did.
“Well, we kinda live together. Whenever their team isn’t traveling, he stays with me in my apartment in Pasadena. Once Ethan found out how good I am with computers I started helping them with things. I don’t always know where the team is at the time, but when I hack into surveillance feeds, I can see the people that they help.” Oliver finished his second drink and looked into the empty glass as he stated, “I want to help people like that. It just seems more important than making stupid phone apps.”
I could see the seriousness of his statement in the tightness in his shoulders and the emotion within his eyes. After the last four days, I wanted to keep the night light, so I turned the conversation back onto the Whistler team. “Ok so, Ethan is the team leader. Who else is on the team?”
“There is Ezra, who is the team flirt and man-whore. He could seriously work as a male model and the girls seem to love his bad-boy persona that he puts on.” Oliver said this wistfully, like if he either liked Ezra or was jealous of his “bad-boy persona”. I got the attention of the bartender and got us each another round.
“Liam is the silent muscle of the group. I don’t know much about him. He keeps to himself, but he is built like a mac-truck. And then there is Chris.” Oliver paused to look me in the eye. “Everyone loves Chris. He is your typical all-American boy. Prom king, football scholarship for college, 4.0 GPA, and straight white teeth.” His voice was laced with envy as he spoke of his brother. I wondered what it would be like to grow up in the shadow of your older brother. All your actions and achievements are compared side-by-side to another. Oliver must really admire his brother to pursue a life where we would remain in that shadow.
“Prom king huh, sounds like I would hate him.” I was still looking directly at Oliver when I said this and I let him see the truth of my words. Nothing in my past experience would overlap with someone like Oliver’s brother. I found that I was jealous of people who had normal lives. People who had the advantage of feeling safe and loved from day to day. Maybe I should be jealous of Oliver because presumably, he had the same safe normal childhood, but Oliver wasn’t cocky about it. He was simply a good person that radiated acceptance and lighthearted fun.
Oliver took a moment to digest my words and then nodded and finished the rest of his third drink. “Enough talking. Let’s dance!” Oliver was clearly feeling the large amount of vodka that he had just consumed, and I just smiled and shook my head.
“I do not dance. And nothing you say is going to make me join you on that dance floor.” Oliver raised his hands in a fake surrender as he moved towards the small dance floor. I turned to lean against the bar to watch him as I nursed the rest of my drink. Oliver was a graceful dancer and moved between the other dancer with ease. I was a little surprised to notice that he gravitated towards the men on the dance floor instead of the women. But I really didn’t care if Oliver preferred men over women. I just hoped that he had better judgment in lovers than I did.
About twenty minutes later. I had just finished my pint when one of the guys wearing a football jersey from the group of rednecks I had identified earlier, tripped into Oliver on the dance floor. The guy was clearly drunk, and I sensed there would be trouble and moved to backup Oliver. Oliver had grabbed the guy to keep him from falling to the ground, but when they were both steady Oliver did not release the guy. Instead, Oliver decided to run his hands up and down the guy's arms and say something to the guy that I couldn’t hear over the music.
I was steps away when I saw the horror of being hit on by another man register on the drunk man’s face and saw the clear instinct to lash out physically. The large amount of alcohol that both Oliver and the football player had consumed caused the next sequence of events to occur sluggishly and gave me enough time to act. I knew if I went on the offensive and punched the football player, I would further offend his straight alpha male sensibilities and escalate the fight. That would most likely lead to his buddies joining the fight and I didn’t know if I could keep Oliver safe against them all.
So, I did the one thing that would stop the fight and keep Oliver from getting pummeled. I darted in and allowed the football player to hit me instead of Oliver. His first pounded into my cheekbone and I exaggerated my fall from the hit back into Oliver. Oliver stumbled backward several steps to keep us balanced and provided space between us and the group of drunk football players. I overemphasized a cry as I cradled my injured cheek with my hand. I looked up at the football player with tear-filled eyes and purposely cringed away from him into Oliver’s chest. This was not the first time I had played the part of the defenseless woman to gain the advantage.
The one that Oliver had groped realized that he had hit me instead of Oliver and slurred out, “Oh God. Honey, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you there, sweetheart.” He moved to comfort me, but I took the opportunity to cringe away again and create more space between us and the hostile group. I was banking on the fact that he would be so remorseful about hitting a girl that the entire group would forget about Oliver and let us leave without any more violence.
The football player continued to slur out apologies as the bouncer/bartender approached our group. He took in the large drunk man apologizing, the red mark across my cheek and my tearful eyes, and was immediately on our side. He moved between us and the group of football players in a protective stance. Knowing that we were out of danger of being jumped I turned, took Oliver’s hand, and pulled him away from the confrontation and towards our spots at the bar. Once we reached the bar Oliver turned me to face him and cupped my face with his palm and gently stroked my cheek with his thumb.
“Are you okay? That looks like a nasty hit.”
I pulled away from his touch and murmured, “I’m fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” Oliver looked at me with clear questions in his eyes. But I didn’t want to answer them here, so I shook my head slightly. He gave a quick nod before we were approached by the bartender.
“Hey, are you okay?” The bartender asked as he reached to touch my cheek as Oliver had. I really didn’t want more people touching me, so I put the hurt little girl act back on and cringed away from his touch. I even went as far as ducking behind Oliver before telling him that I was fine. He clearly bought my injured act because he raised his hands and gentled his voice as he said, “It’s okay. You’re safe now. They won’t bother you again. I promise.”
Inside I rolled my eyes at the tendency of men to treat women like defenseless animals that they had to protect. Outwardly I gave the bartender a shaky nod and tried to hand him cash to pay for our drinks. All I wanted was to get out of here before the ruse of me being the victim fell apart. The bartender refused money and insisted on giving me a bag of ice before we left. I was actually thankful for the ice. It would help keep the swelling down and I could say that I was hurt while training or something. Then I remembered that I no longer had to make excuses for my bruises. That realization made me pause with the bag of ice halfway to my face.
Oliver noticed my hesitation and asked, “What is it? You look like you are lost or something.”
His question snapped me out of my musings. “Nothing. I just hate crying. Let’s get out of here.” Oliver put his arm around my shoulder and guided me towards the door. We were almost out of the bar when the guy that hit me approached. He looked so much like a guilty dog with his tail between his legs that I had to turn into Oliver to keep him from noticing me laughing. Either Oliver knew that I was about to blow our cover, or he thought I was crying instead of laughing because he pulled me closer and turned my back away from the football player.
“Back off,” Oliver stated in an authoritative tone that I was proud of.
He took a large step backward before stumbling over his words in another apology, “Look I am so sorry. I have never hit a woman in my life. I promise I didn’t see her there.”
“Just let us leave. We don’t want any more trouble.” Oliver stated as the bartender walked over to stand behind Oliver.
“Grant, let them leave. You have done enough to that poor girl already. You are lucky that she is not pressing charges.” I had to smother another bout of laughter against Oliver’s chest at the thought of pressing charges because of one punch. The mere fact that everyone was making such a fuss over a bruise illustrated the vast difference between my past and my present. I was becoming almost delirious with relief that I was free of abuse that I always had to endure.
I covered my face with my hands to hide my reaction to the unfolding drama and pushed out into the parking lot. Oliver was right behind me and unlocked his car. I got into the driver’s seat, refusing to let Oliver drive while intoxicated and as soon as he closed the passenger side door, I grabbed the keys from him and drove away from Whiskey’s.
“What the hell was that?” Oliver asked “I know that you could have taken the guy that punched you with one arm tied behind your back. Why were you acting like a scared helpless girl?
“And do you know if I could have also taken all of his friends? There were five of them Oliver. They are not the kind of guys that react well to being hit on by a guy. They see it as an assault on their masculinity or some shit like that. If a girl were to beat them up it would further hurt said masculinity and make the situation worse.” I glanced over to see Oliver was staring out the side window. I decided to push my point a little further. “Oliver, we are in Montana. You must be careful of who you decide to flirt with. I am not saying I agree with them. I am just being realistic. And I would like you to be more careful. They could have really hurt you tonight.”
Oliver turned in his seat and I glanced over at him again. He had tears in his eyes. Shit, I had offended him and now he was crying. This was the second time in a week that I had brought Oliver to tears. This friendship thing was fucking hard. I switched tactics and quickly tried to reassure him. “Maybe we can find a bar in town where the clientele would understand your charm better. We can go out next weekend. I can be your wing woman.”
This only caused one of the tears to spill out of Oliver’s eye and I started to panic a little. “Or not. We don’t have to go anywhere, Oliver.” When this didn’t seem to stop the flow of tears, I pulled over the car and turned to give him my full attention. However, he was no longer able to meet my eyes and he bowed his head and stared at his hands.
“I am going to need you to tell me what I did wrong,” I whispered into the silence that filled the car.
“Wrong?” Oliver asked as he sniffled. “Payton you did the opposite of wrong. You just dove headfirst into a fist that was thrown because I got drunk and acted like an idiot. And now you are talking like it is no big deal that I am gay.”
“Is it a big deal?”
“To a lot of people, it is. To that guy tonight it was. I think to my family it will be. They don’t know. I am still in the closet.”
“So, you're upset because that guy tonight took offense to your advance? Because I have to say Oliver if that is the kind of guy you are into, I think you have worse taste in men than I do.” I said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Oliver let out a shaky chuckle and said, “No. I don’t care about that guy. I am getting emotional at the acceptance and support that you are giving me Payton.”
“Oh, well I am nothing to get excited about,” I grumbled as I shifted the car into drive and continued to drive back to the Whistler compound.
Oliver shook his head as he said, “I don’t know what has happened to make you doubt this, but you are so incredible, Payton. An amazing friend. And I am going to make it my mission that you eventually believe that.” I understood that he meant for that statement to cheer me up, but I knew that when he discovered the truth, incredible is going to be the last thing he will call me.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
