She felt a little better about herself after leaving his office, handing him the file of a cold case that bore a striking similarity to the stunt he attempted with her at her apartment a few nights prior. It made her sick to think about that night again. She tried not to believe his despicable hands were all over her, meanwhile she tried to tell herself that it wasn't her fault, but she knew that it was. She had let her guard down and in doing so she not only jeopardized her dignity but also the confidential file, which very well could have lost everything for the victims. She got herself out of an unpaid suspension, but did not escape the guilt she felt when confronting this case everyday at work.
Her work at the precinct was finished for the day and Olivia wanted a drink even though no one had planned a happy hour for this drab Tuesday evening. Craving a drink reminded her of her mother and she didn't want to drink for the sake of drinking: to weakly give into that need. Drinking for the sake of quieting her guilty mind wasn't what Olivia wanted either, but there was a bar on nearly every block of Manhattan and if there wasn't a bar, there was a bodega with liquor or beer for sale and she knew she would give into the temptation before she reached her apartment on the way home.
And she was right. She found herself in a different, non-descript lounge in Chelsea, further from the precinct, but closer to home. It had been a while since she'd gone to a bar that wasn't filled with cops. Instead of sitting at the counter feeling sorry for herself slinging back shots of Jack Daniels, she sat in a tall stool and slowly sipped a Hard Core cider by the front sliding windows that were cracked open to let in the crisp spring air. The fresh air felt nice against her skin, especially when the wind flipped and tossed her hair that rested at her neck. Although she had profusely washed herself of that sleazy reporter, she still felt dirty; but the breeze was helping to clear her mind and her conscience. Maybe she should just be celibate, she thought to herself. By diving deeper into my work, I could drown out the desire for human contact. It was true that dating in the last year had proven to be wildly unsuccessful, coming to a climactic end with the date she had gone on with the reporter that wanted to play a rape game with her. Rock bottom. She thought to herself, furrowing her brows. She shuddered, remembering the evening again and ran her fingers through her hair. It pissed her off that he had somehow gotten the upper hand on her. He had outsmarted her somehow, and it enraged Olivia. She needed another cider.
She turned in her seat to signal one of the cocktail waitresses for another drink. She nodded and headed to the bar while Olivia turned her attention back to the window, looking out onto the street watching couples walk by or people walking their little dogs on the sidewalk. Maybe I should get a dog from the ASPCA. I drive by at least once a week while running errands or following a case, and it does cross my mind. Having a dog would take my mind off of things and bring something positive into my life…except that I'm never home. She sighed, unable to find an easy solution or escape from her inevitable sadness and frustration. The waitress approached Olivia and handed her a new bottle. Olivia was digging into her leather jacket to pay for the drink when the waitress stopped her waving her hand at Olivia.
"It's already been paid for."
"What do you mean? I didn't start a tab." But the waitress had already walked away with her empty bottle.
"I paid for it," said a tall, slender woman that was now standing beside Olivia.