Going Down? (Traveler & Charlotte)

Damn... he was definitely starting to like the way his neighbor dressed, and the way she moved, and that wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlight look she was giving him right now. The problem was that he had sworn off all but one-night-stands, and anyway she lived in his apartment. He didn't need the complications and the implications of another relationship. Besides, he wasn't her type. Hell, Vanessa was probably more her type. Maybe that was what was going on - maybe the two women were secretly attracted to each other?

Jacob smiled slowly, the pain in his head subsiding as the one he sought spontaneously showed up, as if he somehow summoned her with his desire to find her. There was something about the way she walked into the elevator, small steps reminding him of a Geisha and the perfect makeup and innocent white bow giving him all kinds of thoughts that weren't appropriate for him to have for a woman that was, one - his neighbor, and two - gay. Not that he'd mind a threesome, but he liked to be the main event in someone's night, not the side course.

Her hand went to her hair and she twirled a curl around, adorably child-like in that one movement. Then she started to talk, and Jacob realized how terribly painful the whole incident with Vanessa had to have been for her. Had she been living in fear this whole time?

"It's not, what? Moving?" Jacob laughed easily and looked at her reflection in the door. "No, I'm not moving out. Not permanently; I need to remodel my apartment."

He moved up to stand with his back towards the door so he could look at her. He never wanted to have important conversations unless he was looking directly at someone. "Look - I'm the one who should apologize. My girlfriend, ex-girlfriend... she was completely out of line." He shook his head. "Complete psycho. So... I need to redo my apartment because it's thoroughly fucked. By her. Vanessa never did anything half-way."

Again, he chuckled. Then he remembered the small paper bag with the fancy decorations from the cute fancy bakery, and held it out to her. "These are for you. I was looking for you, actually. They're an apology for psycho-ex, and don't worry about anything else." He shrugged. "You never bothered me."

The doors opened and allowed them an out. Jacob stepped backwards, into the lobby. "Anyway... I also want to apologize in advance for the redecorators and construction people who are going to be making a lot of noise above you. It might take a while." He flashed her another model-like smile and drew in a breath. "So. Do I get to know your name, now that you've been assaulted by my ex?"

Nope. Not only was he not moving, but once again Olive managed to make an ass out of herself. She closed her eyes momentarily, a little longer than the standard blink and sighed, shaking her head slightly to rid herself of the overly-embarrassed thoughts that would ruin her interview and the rest of this conversation, as short as it would be.

When she opened them again, she found Jaycob standing in front of her. Brows pulled together in mild confusion and she almost, almost took a step back. She wasn’t by any means thinking he would do something unfavorable to her – she’d just made it such a point to avoid him for so many days that now, instinctively.. this felt too close. She’d intruded on his life enough as is. But she didn’t step back, and she met his eyes with equal determination. Maybe it was her interview clothes giving her the necessary confidence not to back down.

To her surprise, Olive received an apology. For Vanessa. She chuckled dryly. It figured. The only apology she’d get from Vanessa would be an indirect one from an ex. And a man that Olive felt she had inconvenienced somehow. When it came down to pointing out the fact Vanessa never half-assed anything, Olive’s eyes widened knowingly, then rolled somewhat for emphasis. It briefly made her wonder whether or not Vanessa was truly done with this little blonde.. it had felt too easy. Jaycob had gotten the end of the brunette’s vengeance, but the blonde was still wary for her own..

She glanced down towards the bag of confectioneries and smirked some, finding it amusing that he chose cookies in lieu of like.. flowers, or chocolate. Or a card or something. Though she supposed those weren’t really conventional gifts for the kind of apology he had.. and, fuck, she liked cookies. “Ah.. thank you,” she said, genuinely, taking the little bag from him with her well-manicured fingertips lest she (gasp) touch him. At least this would smooth over their last interaction. And they could part ways with a less-than-terrible last few words.

The doors opened, Jaycob managing to gracefully walk backwards into the lobby to Olive’s amusement. There wasn’t anyone behind him, although something told her that if there had been he’d have just charmed his way out of a fumble. The woman followed, folding the little bag’s top to seal it and tucking it into her purse for later, so she didn’t get her top all crumby.

“Ouch, that bad, huh..?” she asked, in reference to needing construction and redecorators.. she could only imagine the damage done by Vanessa’s manic wrath. Her heels took her out of the elevator, walk short and Peggy Bundy-esque after his. His smile earned her an easier one of her own, now less uncomfortable with their strained relationship. “Oh, your ex had been fucking with me plenty before she assaulted me..” Olive sighed out reflexively, catching herself and offering a bashful, apologetic smile.

“It’s Olive.” She sighed, “Dallas.” Was added, as she felt like maybe just a first name sounded rude. “Otherwise known as Outdated Trollop,” she muttered, taking the turn to go downstairs to get into her car – oh, fuck, why hadn’t she stayed on the elevator? God damnit. He lured her into the lobby with cookies and smiles!

Groaning at her stupidity, “And I’m probably running late for my interview. I’ll see you around?”

"Olive Dallas," the name formed in his mouth like a smooth sip of brandy. It was sweet and strong, a little quirky, but all in all a great name for a potential future wing man. What would be better than a lesbian friend to go pick up girls with? They could help each other out. She'd make him seem less threatening, he'd be her sidekick in case things got weird. It would be a win-win situation for both. He smiled at her, looking over her outfit without hiding the fact that he was checking her out. "You look good. You'll do well, don't worry about it. Especially if the interview panel is single."

He waved at her, turning to go to the front door, when she asked if she'd see him around. "Certainly," he answered, not bothering to look back. "I'm not going anywhere."

Outside the sun was bright despite the cool air and the sidewalks were perfectly crowded with people. He loved the city. The energy, the vibration of life, the potential bed partners... it was all good. Especially for a man whose good looks, financial success, and charming smile made hunting for the next score an easy task.

Over the next few weeks he didn't spend much time in the apartment, simply returning when there was a question from the project manager or some unexpected predicament came up. He had to deal with a few complaints from neighbors and wound up sending bottles of wine and chocolates to them as an apology. Or rather, he had his secretary make sure that it was done. As a result there was a young, sophisticated redhead coming and going from the apartment, usually to take photos for his inspection or to ensure that Jacob's wishes were followed.

She was checking his mail one day when she happened to see Olive coming into the lobby. The secretary gave her a knowing smile; not unfriendly, but not the smile of a stranger. She pulled a power bill out of the stack of mail in her hand and raised her eyebrows as she held the bill towards her.

"Olive Dallas? I believe this is yours." She took a hip-swaying step towards her to return the misplaced piece of mail. "Mr. Galloway described you to a tee. I love your lip color." With a flippant toss of her hair she glanced at another piece of mail. "You wouldn't happen to know who Maria Hobble is, do you? Got her Victoria's Secret bill." She waved a pink envelope.

Well, that interaction had gone better than their last, at least. It’d ended on an odd note, but Olive figured that it wasn’t worth looking into. She probably wouldn’t see much of the ultra-suave Jacob Galloway anymore. Her tiny, short-lived schoolgirl crush was over. Ending on one terrible, uncomfortable and embarrassing blunder of an evening. The blonde hadn’t returned to either smoothie or cookie shop since – too afraid to face them just yet. Plus Vanessa had seen the brands – she was still very much afraid that she’d scope out the areas and wait to pounce.

Her job interview had gone well. She’d nailed it and was now working full-time with the company. It didn’t pay as much as Vanessa did, but it was much more tolerable. What Olive didn’t make in the hours, she made up for in individual clientele. Social media got her farther now that it had prior, once she’d received those portfolio pictures in the mail. She’d even gotten a few gigs recreating the kitschy scenes for other models and a handful of ladies who wanted them for whatever reasons. Olive didn’t question. She just applied makeup, provided cute accessories and the like and counted her helpful bills of money afterwards.

The weather was beginning to warm, if only for a short while, and she was taking full advantage of it. Despite her pale demeanor, the woman was a small shade of tan. Legs revealed underneath short denim’s that hugged to her waist, a loose pink tank top tucked in and ruby chiffon scarf wrapped around hair still pin-curled to her head save for bangs that waved off to one side then curled. Today was an errand-day. No impressing anybody.

Olive padded into the lobby, catching eye-contact from the pretty redhead she’d seen once or twice lately. She assumed that she had to be one of Jacob’s secretaries.. as no girl ever looked that chipper when leaving his apartment, nor were their clothes ever so pressed. She offered her a warm, comfortable smile and turned to her mail slot, opening to pull out a few envelopes and a small package.

Upon hearing her name, she turned, brow perked and eyes pinning to the envelope being presented to her. She took it first, politely thanking her already. No wonder her electric bill was always late.. then looked it over and listened to what else the woman had to say. Her lips formed a small, humored smile at the mention of ‘Mr. Galloway’ describing her. She wondered what he’d said exactly..

“Oh, thank you,” Olive grinned, lips parting over pearly whites as she gestured to the small black package in her hands, “It’s Mac’s Candy Yum Yum. I was running low –“ and then she stopped, because what the hell did she care of the shade? Her eyes trailed over to the pink envelope being waved at her and she laughed easily, very amused by this information.

“Mrs. Hobble is my next door neighbor, she’s celebrated her seventieth birthday last week.. must’ve splurged on something nice, huh?” The blonde smiled, offering her hand to the pink bill, “I can take it to her. I’m kinda curious now.” She chuckled.

And did nothing to help the fact that Jacob Galloway thought she was a lesbian. And.. by proxy, probably his assistant, too.

The redhead smiled, making a 'Mmm' sound when she was told the name of the lipstick. "I appreciate that," she leaned against the wall and jutted a round, feminine hip out as she regarded her boss's neighbor. "Mrs. Hobble's gotta be a special woman to be buying from Vic's for her seventieth." She rolled her bottom lip through white, straight teeth as she unabashedly checked Olive out, the raised her eyebrows as she drew in a breath. "Well, gotta go. The Sir's not paying me to stand around..." she gave her a smile as she fished out her keys, "flirting with his neighbor, is he?"

With a soft chuckle and a wink she gathered his mail and turned to leave, wondering what kinds of other interesting things happened in the high rise Jacob Galloway called home.

Five days later the apartment passed final inspection and furniture was moved back in. At least, the bits that weren't irrevocably destroyed by the wildcat who called herself Vanessa. Two days after that he moved back in, and things seemed to slowly go back to normal even as the temperature outside began to drop. Jacob found that even though the construction work was slowing he had no end of meetings, contracts, and new commissions as urban development seemed like it was primed to skyrocket the next year. He was feeling chipper; a fresh new start in his apartment, a great contract signed that morning that would mean bonuses over the next five years, and a full day with no emails or voicemails from the woman who trashed his home. Life was looking good.

Jacob had decided to put proper money into his apartment for the remodel. It was very urban; metal pipes, corrugated metal, stone and concrete, blended with cool glass and warm woods. A lot of the apartment looked bare still. Special spots were reserved on the walls for when he found the 'right' piece of art, but the one feature that he really splurged on was an aquarium wall between the living room and his bedroom. The refractions in the glass didn't allow a clear view into the bedroom, but it allowed a clear view out, so anyone laying in his luxurious, new kingsized bed could see the living room and doorway with no problems. The fish were exotic; he had considered salt water fish, but then decided against it because of the higher upkeep. Though wealthy enough in his own right, Jacob didn't see any reason to be wasteful if he could have the same beauty in a different form. Besides, he liked the idea of fish that drank the same water he did.

The kitchen and living rooms were ultra sleek and functional. Until he got some personal items in there it would look like a model home, but he couldn't seem to put anything back in there that reminded him of his ex. She left a horrid taste in his mouth. Jacob had made a personal pledge that he was not, absolutely NOT, going to get involved like that again. Women were too flighty, manipulative, and needy to have around too long. In some ways they were more like dogs, whereas he was more of a cat person. Well, not Vanessa's cat.

Strike that. He was more of a 'visit the zoo and pet the pretty animals' but come home, where his pretty fish swam around and asked for nothing more than clean water and food. He liked that arrangement. Living art... that was what women needed to be for him from now on. The idea that he could share his space with another human being for more than twenty-four hours was ridiculous.

He was loosening his tie with one hand, the smirk still on his face and the bag of groceries, complete with a bouquet of mixed poppies and a bottle of Merlot, tucked in his other hand, when he saw her again.

The temperature had dropped considerably since last she heard news of Jacob Galloway. That brief moment of time that Olive was granted shorts and an updo only lasted long enough for an interesting reaction from his secretary. She could’ve sworn, that perhaps she was hitting on her.. and while Olive found it complimentary, she had to wonder just what it was about herself that gave off the impression she was interested in her own gender.

In truth, Olive didn’t mind the assumption – she was just curious as to what about her lead the pretty redhead to believe? Well.. maybe that, right there, was one of the reasons. The fact the blonde referred to other girls as ‘pretty’ so often. She worked in a cosmetically, beauty-based career.. it was just a natural slip of the tongue. One she didn’t notice.

But anyway, back to the weather. Warm denim replaced bare legs, trendy heeled boots graced her feet along with that familiar matching faux-leather jacket. A soft, chiffon-like top underneath her potentially over-bearing demeanor and her makeup had been done less dramatically than prior events. Thick lashes, sheer pink lips, a little blush. Nothing more. Hair precociously curled, and Olive looked like some odd 1940’s fighter-pilot rather than their wife.

The woman probably looked nice. A little less than approachable but probably nice – save for the fact she was bustling quickly in, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, the lower half of her face burrowed into the brown scarf she had around her neck. Above, her brows were pulled together, either in annoyance or contemplation.. the unseen frown proved annoyance. Olive had a date that night.

A date that evidently did not go well.

The blonde shuffled through the lobby, ignoring any faces that could’ve stopped to say hi to her. She probably looked as ferocious as a gummy bear. So distraught was she that she didn’t even notice the fact her handsome neighbor had returned to grace the apartments with his presence. Her hand fumbled out of her pocket, still fisted. She pressed the button to her floor with her middle-knuckle. Though this was mostly to do with the fact her fingers were cold and not over-aggression.

The button above her floor was lit up – and instinctively, perhaps after so many times that she’d curiously wanted to press that same button, or saw it lit up in hopes that it was her prior-crush, she soothed some. Olive lifted her head from the confines of her makeshift mask and looked over, blowing some tiny invisible scarf-thread away from her mouth. Tonight had been a disaster. She had no effort for worrying over her appearance.

“So you’ve officially moved back in, huh?” Olive asked, standing still and bundling close to herself immediately after the question slash assumption. She nuzzled into her scarf-pocket and sighed loudly into it, eyes closed for a little longer than the standard blink. “How’s the apartment look?” she asked into her scarf, unable to ignore him or the nagging feeling that her likely normal-conversational-tone-on-other-people might be taken as brief and dismissive. Wasn’t her fault everything she said normally sounded to be made of honey, sunshine, kittens and lollipops.

She didn't typically look upset or frazzled, at least not that Jacob could recall. He saw her little frowny face and felt like he needed to pick her up like a little puppy and rub her tummy until her tail wagged, or maybe give her a lollipop or something to make her smile. He watched her smash the button to her floor with covered fingers, the tips of her nose and ears slightly pink from the cold. The mirrored walls of the elevator were good for a lot of things, and spying on interesting neighbors was one of them.

"The apartment is wonderful," he replied as he smiled at her semi-sour reflection. "Would you like to come and see it?" he nodded towards the bag. "Have a drink and toast the apartment completion with me. I promise I won't hold you until midnight and force you to flee lest your dress turns into rags and I turn into a pumpkin, or something like that." He doubted she'd say yes. She probably had a night of Ben and Jerry's and sappy girl love shows on the agenda for the night.

"You're an artist, aren't you?" He shifted the topic with fluid ease. "Perhaps I could hire you to find art for my space? You have a good sense of color and proportion." He thought of the few times he'd caught Vanessa on the television, her skin now looking orange and the color on her makeup and outfits too florescent for her tones. She had been much better off when Olive had been on her payroll.

The elevator moved, cables and hydraulics working to lift them safely past the second floor and then to the third. He stood and watched her there, her tiny face buried in the warm cloth that circled her neck. Even mostly covered, she had a classic beauty to her. It was a shame she played for the other team on top of being his neighbor.

"What do you say? Some Merlot and a possible contract procuring art for my home?"

It was hard, really it was, to keep being so terribly pouty. Her date had gone so badly, she was sure that the sour end would continue on through the night. Only alleviated by wine, Netflix and brownies. But damned if her neighbor would let her stay so grumpy.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she sighed, beginning to let go of her stubborn grudge against the man who had not only made her pay for their movie tickets, dinner and their ice cream.. but also almost invited himself into her apartment when she politely passed on a nightcap. Olive was all for equality. And had there been even a chance at a second date? She wouldn’t have minded dishing out money for everything but gas on the first. Yuck. Why her sister thought that Olive and that coworker of hers would be a good match was beyond her..

As badly as her night had gone, she was absolutely not expecting to be invited into her neighbors new apartment.. Olive raised a delicate brow, eyeing him from her peripheral vision and noting the bag of groceries he had. Her head had lifted from its comfy scarf-confines and her frown had disappeared, leaving behind a tired neutral line. Which perked somewhat, just at one edge, upon the mention of him turning into a pumpkin.

And as nice as that sounded..? To erase this terrible first-date with a nice evening in, gawking at what would likely be the fanciest apartment she’d ever set eyes on..? She doubted, very highly, that the wine and poppies were meant for her company. He must’ve just been very polite. It sounded like him.. not that she’d know. Just very suave, polite, and nice. Throwing Olive a bone.

But the topic change quickly caught her off guard, and Olive’s head tilted some. An artist? Her brows furrowed, lips puckered uncertainly. Did she count as the kind of artist he was assuming she was..? Her own apartment had tacky decorations against the walls. Big, heart-shaped mirrors or twinkly-Christmas lights. It was all overly romantic and delicate. Just awful, really. She laughed, easily, softly. “Thanks..” Olive answered with a little shrug of one shoulder, still exhausted from her night but not so irritable. “I’ll keep an eye out for something,” she added, feeling like that was enough of a response without confirming or denying anything.

The elevator arrived to her floor and she sighed, somewhat defeated. He’d ruined her bad mood. Now she was just.. a little less than normal. And she was so determined to be a grouch, too.

“That sounds lovely, but I really just want to get home and like, take a bath or something.” She shrugged again, “Wash the day away, y’know?” she added, the doors beginning to open. She looked over and gave a genuine smile, “Thank you, though. Maybe next time?” the blonde offered, half-heartedly. No next time. If her neighbor really just wanted to pet the pretty downstairs kitten, he’d have to lure her in with more than flowers and booze. Especially after his prior cat launched a trivet at her head.

“Have a good night,” the woman said by way of dismissal, stepping out of the elevator and waving sweetly with just her fingers before she turned back around, shoved her hands in her pockets and moseyed on over to her apartment door. The elevator having closed and taken her neighbor upstairs moments prior.


And as the faux-vintage beauty nestled into her overly-luxurious, entirely unnecessary, flower-scented water-tinted bath.. she noted a small, darkened patch against her ceiling. Olive pondered, wondering if she’d ever seen it before. Had it been so small and unnoticeable that it escaped her attention? Or was it really something new..? Huh.. eh, that could be dealt with tomorrow.

What were the chances that the little spot would grow bigger through the night? What were the chances that the little blemish on the ceiling was in actuality severe water damage in the making..?

Ah well! That was tomorrow-Olive’s problem.

He nodded, the Calgon commercial running quietly through his head. 'Ah, Calgon, take me away!' and the image of a bubble-covered woman in a tub brought a smile to his lips. "Of course, every woman deserves her Calgon moment," he said, stepping aside so she could take her leave. He watched her as the doors slid shut, and decided that God was cruel master; dangling things before him that were neither prudent or available.

Jacob went up to his apartment and drank in the cool masculine air of his empty, but purified, space. He set the groceries on the counter top. Granite had been overdone that decade, so he had picked marble instead. The grey counter had veins of deep blue and black running through it, creating a nice contrast to the shiny steel appliances, dark wood, tinted concrete and stone in the room. It was open and very airy, letting light stream in from his windows. He went over to the wall and raised the window coverings with a flick of his hand, letting the sparkling lights of the city come in and illuminate his living room.

Every touch of Vanessa was gone. The walls had all been painted, the floors changed out for cork and bamboo, and the bed had been trashed and replaced with a new one. Same model; but new. No scent of her or her damned cat remained. He poured himself a nice glass of Merlot and then put the poppies in a narrow, tall vase carved out of a piece of black obsidian. Soon he had Bing Crosbyon the stereo as he seasoned his steak, then hopped into the shower. It had been a good day.

The water was hot and plentiful, and when he got out and toweled off he looked at his new wall aquarium, the one that separated his bedroom from the living room. The water looked low. It shouldn't have evaporated that much, but it was new, so...

He frowned slightly but turned the knob to fill it up from the newly installed interior line, and once the water line was adequate he turned it off and fed the tropical brood. "There. Now you can have plenty of room to swim around." He smiled lazily at the fish, tapping the glass lightly with a finger, before returning to the kitchen to cook dinner and finish his wine.

Jacob finished the last of the wine late that night on the balcony. The light sparkled like stars, and the multitude of cars on the freeway looked like diamonds and rubies to the urban planner. He loved the city. He loved shaping it, living in it, the people... the energy. It spoke to him like a lover's voice from another era. As he stripped and slid into the silky fine-weave cotton of his sheets he didn't notice that the water level of the two hundred gallon aquarium had gone down again. The lights dimmed, the music faded, and he fell asleep.



Jacob woke up early, intending to go for a brisk morning run if the roads weren't too icy. He had studded straps for his shoes if necessary; the fresh air and the landscape made all but the coldest mornings a necessity for him and his fitness regime. He stretched in the bed, turning to look out the window at the sunrise. Then he turned to get up and go freshen up in the bathroom when he noticed that something was wrong.

The sound of the fish filter was extremely loud. He glanced in that direction, his eyes taking in the clear glass and the view of the living room behind the wall... and the fish struggling to stay alive in the six inches of water still left in the bottom of the aquarium.

Oh shit.

He scrambled out of bed, the clumsiest he had been since almost getting caught in the principal's daughter's bed in high school, and rushed over to the aquarium. He couldn't fathom all that water evaporating, yet his carpet was barely damp and the bamboo floor on the other side looked spotless. All that water had to go somewhere, didn't it? If it didn't evaporate and it wasn't flooding his apartment, where did it go? The valve on the drain was closed, meaning that it didn't clean out and go down the sewer pipes like it should have. He was aware of the damage that water could do. He had experienced it himself when he was in college, and the kind of damage that two gallons of water did, compared to two hundred, was bound to be catastrophic. And expensive.

Jacob pulled on pants and socks as he called the project manager who oversaw the job. After a heated conversation consisting of much too many four letter words and threats they agreed to come up 'immediately'.

He rushed out of the apartment, knowing that water flowed down and that, most likely, whoever lived directly underneath him was due for an unpleasant surprise that morning. A few minutes later he was loudly knocking at the apartment beneath his, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

Olive had always been a heavy sleeper. She had around four alarms set on her phone, all of which were set around ten minutes from one another as she kept instinctively ‘snoozing’ on the first couple. Her bathroom was far enough away not to hear the drip-drip-drop against her floor as the little stain on her ceiling grew at least four times its size overnight and had begun to weep.. perhaps over her terrible décor, or whatever god of misfortune that’d nestled in Olive Dallas’ life was finally realizing the error of its ways.. while simultaneously readying for one last shebang.

So when she heard the knocks against her front door, she merely stirred. They were loud and insistent, putting the ordinarily morning-person on edge. A moment that felt like too many moments later and she dragged herself out of bed, shoving her comforter off herself and blearily checking the time. Too early. It was far too early. She didn’t even need to be up for another couple of hours.

And for someone who prided herself on vintage finds and cutesy garb, she slept in surprisingly modern pajamas. Red flannel shorts and a matching long-sleeved button up. Her hair in pincurls coiled tightly to her head, wrapped in a black headscarf topped in a bow. “I’m coming!” Olive croaked, cuffing her eyes with the meatier parts of her palms in an attempt to get the sleep out of them.

She sniffled sleepily, shuffling her way down her hallway as her eyes tried to adjust quickly to the dim light in her home. Did she order something online she couldn’t remember and needed a signature confirmation? No.. too early for that, too.. Her neighbors didn’t knock that loudly, either.. and any exes of hers with issues that required immediate and loud attention knew better than to come knocking angrily at Olive’s door.

The blonde managed to her door, standing on her toes to look through the peep-hole and assess who it was out there.. To find Jacob, shirtless and in what appeared to be some kind of panic? Instantly, her senses awakened – and it had almost nothing to do with the fact he was shirtless. It had to be an emergency, right?

Quickly, Olive undid the locks on her door and pulled it open. “Jacob? What’s the matt-“ her sentence cut. The god that’d made her resident crush also Vanessa’s boyfriend.. the god that’d made Vanessa such a terrible fucking person to deal with. The god that lead Olive into Jacob Galloway’s life as though it were merely amused by her misfortune..? It laughed.

Laughter the sound of her ceiling cracking. Laughter the sound of gallons of water pouring into her tiny bathroom. Laughter in the face of Olive’s confusion as she tried to register the noise, and Jacob’s look of what she assumed was knowing concern..

Reflexively, as though Olive was unable to shake off her manners, she held up a hand. Her index finger pointed lazily so she didn’t look too demanding. A quick, ‘a moment please, while I assess the damage your reckless remodeling crew has inflicted on my literal irreplaceables and my tiny bathroom floods over to my tiny bedroom’

Without waiting for an answer, Olive padded quickly away into her bathroom and the source of the noise. But water met her before she’d even made it to her bedroom, soaking into her plush white carpet.. all over vintage shoe boxes and shoes that lined the bottom of her closet. Her feet sank into squishy flooring.. then ankles.. Water threatening to get into bottom drawers and who knows the kind of things that were lost in the bathroom..? Her curling iron, her blow dryer.. her make up – good fucking god her makeup! The things she needs to make a living!

After having stood dumbstruck for several seconds, she leaped – or.. hopped, like a helpless lamb – into action. “No no no no!” she shrieked uselessly to the unnamed god and water that mercilessly spilled from the sky in her bathroom. The makeup she used for work was still in its carrying case in her living room, a detail she'd forgotten in her distraught alertness.. but all the brushes she’d cleaned.. all her own makeup for every-day life.. floating along the top of the miniature current that was clear across her shins by then.

Panicked, she began to scramble again. Picking up shoes that’d been drenched on the floor – anything on the floor she could salvage and tossing it onto her bed. It was a mess. A terrible, terrible mess.

Well.. at least she had her health..?

It happened. Everything that could have gone wrong did, with the small exception of the fact that it hadn't gone past one floor's worth of damage. Yet. The sound was quite musical, actually. Jacob had always like the sound of trickling water, rushing water more so... and a waterfall? Well, that was spectacular. So when the trickle became a wash, then a flood, he drew in a breath and closed his eyes, opening his ears to the wonderful sound. There was nothing else to be done with it. Could he have held it back if he watched?

No, not one bit.

He opened his eyes to see Olive, her slim finger held up as if to ask him for just one moment while she dealt with this, and then she turned and gaped, her eyes wide like a Kewpie doll's, as her belongings got swept into the water's energy like twigs in Noah's flood.

He thought about removing his socks but then decided that the effort wasn't worth it. After all, there was insurance for things like that, wasn't there? So as his cute, barely awake neighbor panicked and tried to salvage her things he watched mutely. Then his eyes traveled around her apartment, and he decided that it was a good thing that she didn't take his offer up on being his art shopper. She might have been great when it came to color and style on the human pallet, but her apartment... it was like something out of a college nightmare. Nothing matched. Nothing looked like it had been new in a long, long time, and her colors were bright and loud and simultaneously quiet, a dichotomous blend that didn't set well with his sleek, urban self. He liked things that were mismatched purposely, like stone and steel, glass and earth.

"The construction crew are on their way," he nearly shouted. "Don't worry about those things; insurance will cover your losses. You do have insurance, don't you?"

He waded forward against his better judgement and tried to get the frantic girl's attention. "Hey! Olive! Don't worry about those things; just get out your irreplaceables. I have to get downstairs and let the lower neighbor know what's going on, okay? Maybe you should make arrangements for a place to stay until it's all fixed..."

Jacob looked around and thought that he had actually done her a favor. With her insurance she could replace all the thrift store finds she had with things of quality. "Look at it this way - better a flood than a fire, right? Alright. I'm outta here - let me know if you need anything." He smiled at her and took one last look before moving towards the door. Hopefully the project manager was going to be true to his word. This was the kind of mess that only a ton of water and a huge scoop of 'making it right' would fix, and he had at least one more neighbor to talk to and the apartment manager. As far as mornings went he had experienced worse, but not any more expensive. Hopefully he would be able to shift the majority of the financial responsibility to the remodeling company and not carry it on his own.

He had enough to worry about. Besides, the weekend was coming up, and now that he was Vanessa-free it was time to get on the prowl once again.

The parts of Olive’s mind tried to work in tandem. They tried to make sense of what the distant voice of Jacob Galloway was saying over the unwelcome baby stream in her apartment. She tried to understand what on earth was happening. She tried, desperately, to stay in control. But that little part in her head.. the one that could only take so much before it snapped like her bra-strap (again).. had made like the trickle-in-her-ceiling-turned-miniature-tsunami.

‘You do have insurance, don’t you?’
Yes, I have insurance, but…

‘..just get out your irreplaceables..’
They’re.. almost all irreplaceable.. do you not know how vintage works..?

‘Maybe you should make arrangements for a place to stay until it’s all fixed…’
No, really? Maybe? Do you think so?

‘Look at it this way – better a flood than a fire, right? Alright. I’m outta here – let me know if you need anything.’
“..If I need anything? How about a fucking apology?”
Uh oh. There was no italicizing there..

“My ceiling comes crashing down with who knows how many fucking gallons of water and all my things are getting drenched and ruined! My insurance can’t replace most of these things! Not everything is solely worth money, Jacob! Not everything is made of dollar signs!” Wait a minute. That was out-loud, shrieking, pissed Olive. And she was totally, completely drawing conclusions from the thoughts she’d had of him being this self-centered too-rich high-status playboy. Was she wrong, though?

“And isn’t this partly your fault?! Is that not your apartment up there?!” The blonde pointed uselessly above her head, her pallid face lit with heavy annoyance, voice having skipped the delicate chime of her ordinary-pitch and descended into deeper, more appropriate octaves.

“Go, then!” Olive growled, scowling. And maybe she just looked like a child throwing a tantrum, maybe she looked like a fluffed up kitten after being spooked and tumbling around on her haunches because the tomcat upstairs decided to poke his head into her home – but she sure as hell didn’t feel like that.

“Go tell the downstairs neighbor – tell them it’ll get fixed soon – tell them ‘better flood than fire!’” she tried, voice sinking into the deepest her own could go without sounding purposely condescending, “ – tell them insurance will cover it! – and then don’t say sorry!” she huffed, beginning to rip drawers open and carry them whole out into her living room.

Whoa! That was not what he had expected. When had the little soft bunny grown fangs?

Jacob turned to look at the sweet, innocent little sugar cube that was his downstairs neighbor and was assaulted again. What? She knew words like 'fucking' and, well, 'fucking'? How had such a word come out of those perfect lips? He took a step back as she told him that there were things there worth more than money. More than money? Everything had it's price.

He raised his eyebrows when she asked him if it wasn't partly his fault. Hmmm... to say anything that might be admissible in court was ill-advised. Instead he said nothing. He drew in a breath through gritted teeth and took another step back as she advanced. Was everyone touched with a bit of the Vanessa sickness, then? This sweet, perfect little neighbor looked ready to claw his eyes out, and though a bit of flush to her cheeks was terribly attractive, the fiery murder in them was slightly intimidating. He didn't need to raise her ire any more than he had.

"Well then, I'll go tell them that." He paused at the door. "But hey - at least I came here and warned you as soon as I knew. Remember that little bit of information when your insurance company comes a'knocking." He crossed one foot over the other and folded his arms across his bare chest as he idly watched her rip her drawers out of old, vintage-chic dressers and haul them out to her living room.

"I've actually done you a favor," he spoke out loud, looking around her place one last time.

"Now you'll have money to get some nice things instead of all this thrift-store crap you've been surrounding yourself with." His lips quirked into a smile. "You, my dear, should be thanking me." With a quick wink and a shove off her door jam he turned and went down the hall, taking his time to go downstairs and let the second story neighbor and the manager know what was happening.

It was the contractor's fault, after all. Had they built the aquarium correctly, had the inspector inspected correctly, this would never have happened. Jacob briefly mourned the loss of all those fish but then he decided that he could always start over. Insurance covered losses, and a loss was just an opportunity to start something fresh.

Jacob had a point. He had in fact warned her – or tried to, anyway. It wasn’t entirely his fault and the blonde knew it, but she was just so upset that she refused to acknowledge that perhaps she was being a tad too dramatic. Then again, her bathroom had just become the remnants of Jacob Galloway’s large aquarium, so.. This wasn’t typically Olive’s way of handling her anger.. but she’d just woken up. She was frazzled and confused and he hadn’t immediately tried to console her like any regular, human-with-a-heart would’ve..

She sighed with apparent frustration as she dropped her dresser onto the couch cushion. Her mouth open as though she were going to say something. A small apology for lashing out. She could do that. Olive turned,

‘I’ve actually done you a favor,’ he had said. Then looked around. Olive’s mouth closed, her teeth snapping shut as she tried to rationalize what it was he had just said to her. She looked around as he did, attempting to find what it was he could’ve been referencing in order to try to piece together that phrase..

‘Now you’ll have money to get some nice things instead of all this thrift-store crap you’ve been surrounding yourself with.’ Her mouth opened again, she blinked several times in rapid succession. Mouth closed. Her home wasn’t even filled to the brim with vintage or retro the way he made it out to sound – some of the things were modern, just stylized. Some things were bought old, refurbished whether by hand or taken in to a professional.. but it wasn’t made of onyx or marble or whatever the hell Jacob wanted his things to be made out of. Different worlds. They were from different worlds. She needed to calm down.

‘You, my dear, should be thanking me.’

Olive’s jaw clenched, her teeth gritting together as she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Gilded. Jacob Galloway, handsome upstairs neighbor, was a gilded bastard. Shiny and nice on the outside - nothing in. That had been made clear.

She’d just gone over the vicious anger phase and slid right through to ‘this person is fucking dead to me and any time I spend acknowledging him is a fucking waste of my breath and energy’. So she said nothing. Her eyes closed, thick lashes resting against the tops of her cheeks as she steadied herself. He wasn't important. Already, he was a distant memory.

He left, and Olive opened her eyes again. She focused on the task at hand. Focused absolutely all of her energy and attention into making sure she’d salvaged what she could and damn near stripped everything of immediate importance from her soggy bedroom and bathroom-turned-exotic-creature-viewing-pool. It offered her many views of the rare, elusive curling iron fish.. blow dryer whale, lipstick tube seaweeds.. all of the bathbombs she’d had under her sink exploded into a colorful mess that added to the fucked up effect..

By the time she’d gotten everything out and dressed herself, the contractors had arrived. She’d packed everything she could into suitcases and spare boxes.. her living room looked like she’d just moved in and only set up enough to sleep on the couch. Which.. might be what she had to do.

Olive sat on the armrest of her couch. Her door had been left open as people kept coming in and out of it for whatever reason. She twiddled idly with the hem of her dress – blue, like her sad, broken little heart – while her phone was held to her ear.

“No.. I don’t know, no one’s giving me a real estimate.. Yeah, I talked to the insurance company.. they can only pay me what they think things are worth, so..” she sighed, listening to the other end. Her voice meek, tone utterly pathetic. “No, it’ll be fine.. I understand.” She nodded to nobody, her free hand running against her face in a defeated gesture. “Yeah, ask, could you? I’ll figure something out later.. I can book a hotel or something for a couple of nights, but after that I can’t.. I don’t know.” Olive tried, then nodded again as someone else continued.

The god of Olive’s-misfortune was not done. Her best friend away at a wedding, and her sister wasn’t sure about having her. With new babies in the house, Olive was sure that the two of them would welcome the third set of hands and watchful eyes.. But hanging out with her sister, her wife, and their blossoming family of screaming, crying twins.. did not sound like the best plan of action.

But, for now.. it was a last resort.

He had dodged a bullet with that one. Who knew that such an expressively angry little vixen lived right below his apartment? Hell... maybe there was some kind of wild-woman vortex that converged at that site, and he had the misfortune to run into every single fucking Twilight Zone edition that apartment complex had to offer. First there was Vanessa, who thankfully was a memory. Then there was Olive. He mentally sighed, feeling a nostalgic longing for the cool double dates they could have had, picking up women with her as his wing woman.

Then, surprisingly, Mrs. Hudson on the first floor turned out to be some kind of crack pot, chasing after him with an umbrella and shouting out that she didn't want to buy any 'freking magazeens'! The woman was humorous in her baby blue bathrobe and flip-flops, but Jacob didn't think that starting off his day barefoot and fleeing from an eighty-year-old attacker was going to look good on his dating resume.

Fortunately the manager had the good sense to calmly take down the insurance information and began to make calls. The man almost looked bored, but upon closer inspection Jacob noticed that he had an ear bud in and there was a tiny TV under his counter playing the latest game in old-school black and white. He had to hand it to the man - why get upset over things that you couldn't change?

Olive could have taken a lesson or two from him.

By the time Jacob was back upstairs he felt like he had done his good deed for the day. He had warned everyone who needed warning, he had called his insurance company and the contractors, and now he was going to go out and make some woman's day. And night.

He made sure that the contractors knew what they needed to do and then he finished dressing in a pair of '7 For all Mankind' skinny legged jeans and an Armani tight fit wool sweeter in a muted earth color. Alexander McQueen boots and a Cole Haan wool double-breasted coat finished his ensemble. He was ready to go rock some hottie's world.

Without another thought for that morning (after all, it had been a few hours and he was certain things had settled down), he pushed the button on the elevator and checked his reflection in the shiny mirrored doors. The day might have started out insane but he was going to turn it around. He'd thrown enough money at the problem to start the ball rolling, and insurance would reimburse him what he had overspent. Why cry over a spilled aquarium? Even if it had been several hundred gallons of water, several thousand dollars of fish, and an angry neighbor in the making, it wasn't like anyone died.

Seriously, how many black cats could Olive had crossed paths with in the last week? Did she unintentionally break a thousand mirrors? Did she walk under several ladders, split the pole, open up that umbrella indoors? Was it perpetually Friday the 13th? Did she need to start carrying around a whole rabbit for its lucky feet and continually toss salt over her shoulder? Were there even enough pennies on the ground to counteract the bad luck she’d been on the receiving end of this entire month?

She lost her job, she lost her crush, her last steady employer whipped a trivet at her head, her best friend gone awol at a wedding so she didn’t even have her to talk to.. To top that off, her apartment had been flooded out, a lot of her valuables ruined.. and now she had nowhere to stay. Her sister’s place, filled to the brim with diapers, hysterical sobbing from babies and or adults and various bodily fluids on too many things to count was starting to sound like her only option.. Could Olive just deal with slumming it on her couch while construction crews came in and out of her apartment all day..? Well, if she absolutely had to..

It was now we found our downtrodden heroin, perched on a lonely seat on the subway into town.. seriously deliberating the pros and cons to sleeping on her couch versus emptying her bank account on hotels versus going potentially insane.. Her soft, all black coat with oversized bow at its back and matching smaller ones over her pockets.. thin, flat matching shoes, hidden by the large vintage suitcase at her feet. Powdery pink and shiny, probably some kind of vinyl. She probably would’ve looked cute, if not for the terribly pathetic frown on her face. Olive was the epitome of a sad, wet puppy, stranded in a box somewhere on the side of the road while it rained.

And in comes the wealthy, snooty bastard that tossed her there.. with a slinky, clumsy drunk-and-lust-addled date on his arm.. Olive couldn’t fucking believe her ears. She knew, of course. She recognized the voice instantly. She’d been hearing it in her head all day – making her angry rather than sad. Anger was something she could hold onto and focus on. Anger she was okay with. It was the rolling sadness that bothered.. but she just didn’t have it in her anymore. Not tonight. Not when her coworker told her last-minute that she couldn't stay the night there.. She understood, of course. Impromptu family visit, and all.. at this point, the ridiculous circumstances surrounding the blonde's life were beginning to make perfect sense..

So when she heard the ebbing laughter of the man that’d done this to her and the fit of giggles from the woman in his arm as the doors to the subway closed shut, Olive ducked her head in defeat. She sought comfort in the palms of her hands, elbows on her knees as she slumped over. Trying desperately to disappear into a tiny ball of nothing. Maybe if Jacob threw money at her, like he apparently did to all of his problems, she’d vanish, too. But even that was entirely too much interaction for her right then.

The good-natured part of Olive, the one that had been trampled on continuously for weeks, was glad that Jacob decided not to drive while inebriated. It was smart and responsible. Good for him. But the rest of her.. the parts that cut him out of her life.. really wish he’d just stay out.

Oh God, if only every night could be as good as this one had been so far. Though Jacob knew that there were times of the year when the co-eds were more willing to party, more buxom, more naive... yet legal as all heck and excited to bed any attractive man with money and nice clothes, tonight had seemed like one of those nights when the roulette table always rolled your way and the cards all had aces on them. It was like the stars had aligned themselves perfectly just for him. What started out as a wet, anxious morning, full of sodden neighbors and expensive phone calls, was now an evening of soft touches, deep kisses, sexy women in slinky dresses, and promises of a sexy, slutty, beautiful woman willing and eager to do everything and anything he asked her to, once they were locked in the secluded privacy of his home.

He chuckled as his date-of-the-night told him for the umpteenth time that his smile was sexy and she wanted to taste his kisses.

"I want to taste you too," he said, whispering in her multi-pierced ear, "and not just your lips." This brought a waterfall of giggles to her lips. The girl pressed her too tight red dress harder against him and practically ground herself on his leg. She smiled drunkenly, her hands holding and half-groping his body, yet somehow Jacob managed to maintain an air of classiness in the midst of all the pheremones and lust that emanated from the girl.

What was her fucking name, anyway? He had heard it once or twice that night, even repeated it to himself when he thought that he might take her home, but damned if he could remember it now. To take the focus off his inability to remember fuck-of-the-night's name he called her 'sweetheart', 'baby', 'honey', and 'darling'. He called her everything but her name, and she drank it up without question. He nuzzled her ear and kissed her neck as they stood in the subway, his strong hand gripping the pole and his feet braced as she desperately clung to him. It was obvious who needed whom the most in what was passing for a relationship between the two as the metal tube they rode in shot through the night-time phallus receptacle. Maybe it was just Jacob, but everything that night felt like a metaphor for sex.

"We can go to my place," she purred at him, her body arched to show off her soft breasts and her hips tilted 'just so'. "I have cuffs," that brought giggles to her lips again as she fantasized about older men in suits and the dream of being whisked away by a secret millionaire.

"No, I never fuck in strange places." His smile was almost fatherly, though their age difference was probably only five or six years and a few hundred thousand dollars of earnings apart.

"But cuffs... fuzzy ones..." the girl tried to bat her eyelashes at him. The glue on the long, caterpillar legged faux lashes were coming off, though, and the end of the lash caught on her bottom ones. She blinked, confused, and then reached up to pull it off. Now her eyes were ever-so-slightly lop-sided, but she seemed not to notice.

"Trust me." Their stop was coming up soon. He smiled at her and gave her another long, sensual kiss. "You won't have to clean up your place afterwards; I'm doing you a favor, baby."

I’ve actually done you a favor... you, my dear, should be thanking me.

Words that echoed from this morning floated through the air. Jacob smiled at his young date, then looked up in time to catch a glimpse of his neighbor. Feeling good hearted and generous he called out to her, his slightly inebriated self oblivious to the state of her emotions that evening. "Hey... Olive!" His smile grew. "How's it going? Did the contractors give you a finish date yet on your apartment?"