Chapter 22: Fuck Twin Peaks

It was 8:59 the next morning and Olivia strolled into the Bellefleur & Associates office. At the small reception, a new receptionist was sipping away at a skinny latte, checking over the main desk's computer. She was short and thin, and most importantly she was not Debbie Pelt.

"Are you new?" Olivia asked, unsure if she should feel relieved or not this wasn't the werewolf double agent.

"No, I'm a temp. Their usual receptionist called in sick this morning," I'm sure she did. It was probably for the best. Olivia didn't know what she was capable of if she encountered Debbie right now. She would probably slap her 80's bangs right out of her stupid face. "What can I help you with Miss?"

"I'm here to discuss flowers for the Bellefleur Costa wedding," Olivia lied. It was unlikely she would be let in without an appointment, and she wasn't going to wait in the reception area like a plebeian client. Olivia was also not in the mood to argue with this poor innocent soul first thing in the morning. She was going to save her wrath for someone who deserved it. Someone whose VIP pass was wedding planning bullshit.

"Oh, you can go right in. Portia isn't here just yet, but her next meeting isn't until 11 so you have basically all morning."

She had 2 hours, but Olivia was about to eat her, chew her, and spit her out in under 5 minutes. "Thanks, I'll wait for her in her office."

Olivia took two steps down the hall and then had an idea. She turned back around to the receptionist. "How's her schedule looking tomorrow? I may be able to take her to an exclusive showing of.."

Uh oh. Thankfully the young woman was a loud and clear broadcaster. Should I tell Miss Bellefleur's wedding planner that her Friday was blocked off for billing? It's not a big deal, but some bosses really like their privacy...

Privacy around Olivia was a mere illusion. To let her off the hook, Olivia backpaddled. "Actually, it's okay. I'll just ask her."

The receptionist nodded with a relieved smile and Olivia entered the corner office and waited. It was neat and tidy, with very little decor. It mostly had law books on the shelves, and some trophies for high school and college softball. Portia Bellefleur was boring and plain all around.

Not a minute later she watched the black BMW sedan roll into the parking lot. Portia had the nerve to have it polished and upgrade the rims on the tires. The car stood out in the little parking lot, screaming "I am better than you". God, I miss that car. Olivia had to remind herself of rule 9: no personal belongings. The BMW was a lease under the Queen's name, it was never even hers. But still, part of her was burning with anger that she had given her car away and got herself in this position. It felt a hell lot like losing, and Olivia didn't lose. It was rule number 6. Exactly two minutes later, Portia entered her own office, just to encounter Olivia waiting for her with her hip leaning on the office desk.

"Olivia!" She stopped in the doorway, both confused and startled to see her. In her mind, she asked herself if she forgot they had a meeting this morning. Then she wondered why the receptionist hadn't told her Olivia was already waiting. "Sorry, I hadn't realized we had a meeting-"

"We don't. Take a seat."

Portia walked around and paused behind her desk then slowly put her purse down. "What… Can I help you with today?"

Olivia turned around to face her and reached for a picture frame beside the desk. It was of Portia with a scrawny looking and tall, thin man with deep-set brown eyes. She recognized him instantly. She was mentally kicking herself for not seeing this coming. But how could she have? "Is this your fiance?"

"Err, yes. Is everything okay?"

"You tell me, Portia," Olivia said in all seriousness.

This chick is freaking me out. "I don't know what you mean-"

"I'm sure you heard of the tale of the little boy who cried wolf?" Olivia asked, putting the picture down. "But have you heard the tale of the little lawyer who cried bribe?"

Her eyes went wide. "I-I didn't-"

"Because I'll tell you how that tale ends, love. It ends with her losing her license for breaking attorney-client privilege."

Portia's mind jumped to Clark v United states, where privileges are moot if her services are used to break the law but Olivia beat her to the punch. "And don't you dare quote the Supreme court at me. Unless you have proof of Eric Northman breaking the law, the only criminal here is you for opening your goddamn mouth to the feds!"

Her eyes went wide. "I am not-" her voice trembled, she couldn't even say it. Olivia scared her. Good. "I didn't do anything!"

"So you didn't tell your fiance who works at the DEA that your client has bribed you with a car to expedite the acquisition of several properties through his shell companies?"

Portia felt cornered and small, thoughts running a mile a minute trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. There wasn't one. "You have to understand Olivia, people here don't have cars like that. When I came home driving a BMW, he…"

"Congratulated you for being a successful, talented and hard-working lawyer, instead of thinking less of you?"

Portia's eyes landed on her desk. According to the loud angry voices replaying in her head, he did not. Olivia's anger met the saddest of pities.

"Men may be like that where you grew up, but down here… They weren't raised like that."

Olivia wanted to tell her that men upstate weren't raised like that either. Jaimie's reaction to Olivia's success hadn't been all that different. "It doesn't mean women like us have to put up with it."

"Women like-"

"Ambitious, Portia." The lawyer stood awkwardly across the desk, shoulders slumped like a puppet with cut strings. "If you want to keep practicing law, you have a choice to make. And if you don't make the right one, I'll fucking make it for you."

You could hear a pin drop in that room. Portia looked at her with sullen eyes.

"Are you seriously asking me to choose between my relationship or my career?"

"Not necessarily. Your connection could be useful. The DEA has opened a case against Eric, can you get Glenn to drop it?"

She reacted as if Olivia had asked her to bomb the White House. "Are you crazy?! You can't ask me to do that!"

Olivia laughed in a threatening way. "I can ask you a hell lot more than that, actually." She then pulled the same manilla envelope out of her purse and dropped it on her desk.

"What's that?"

"A briefing to a high-end event you are attending tomorrow in Baton Rouge. In the envelope is your flight and hotel info. Eric Northman is picking you up at the hotel at 8 as your date." The last words of that sentence lingered bitterly in her mouth.

"What?" She gulped.

"Am I speaking Greek?"

"I-I can't! I have to be in court all day tomorrow, and-"

"No, you don't." Olivia rudely interrupted. "And you can do billing on the weekend."

Portia's jaw actively clenched in order not to drop. How the fuck does she know my schedule? "Why don't you go? I've never even met him!"

Ah yes, the million-dollar question. It's not that Olivia wanted to go to this stupid gala with Eric. She honestly didn't even know why she was so bothered by it. Maybe because he had personally asked Portia, of all people. The man could take anyone in the entire world like Miss Louisiana, an actress, a supermodel, a fucking European princess, why her? Olivia envied the opportunity of being in a room with Louisiana's top 1%. Just imagine what wonders she would find out with her abilities. The secrets, deals and decisions rummaging in the brains of the attendees could be a significant advantage, one that neither Eric nor Portia could get to. She could learn about all sorts of backdoor business deals, make her employers a shitload of money and complete her Grand Master Plan of retiring very rich early.

And be finally free.

"Above my pay grade," Olivia dismissed her. "You'll need a dress. Pick an expensive one, Mr. Northman will pay for it."

Portia finally lost it by letting out a muffled shriek. "Olivia you cannot be serious!"

"Do I look like I am joking?"

"Please! I can't spend a weekend in another city with..." A vampire! Her mind screamed as tears formed in her dark brown eyes. Portia thought herself too pure to be seen fraternizing with dead people out in public. Surely she wasn't too pure to take dead people's money. "What do I tell Glenn? I can't-"

"It's not you, it's me - always works," Olivia said lazily. Portia's drama was starting to bore her.

"No! I'm not breaking up with him! I love him, don't you get that?"

"Get it? Yes. Care? I don't. You wanted the money, the high-end clients, the luxury car? This is the price. Wanna be Mrs. Glenn Costa? Get him to drop the case. Otherwise do both of you a favor and cut him fucking loose, Portia."

Before Eric does.

Portia sunk on the chair behind her making it creak. She had the thousand-yard stare on her face, her mind was a beautiful storm of regret, fear, and guilt over her own ambitions. Portia was raised to be a wife and a mom and uphold her honorable family name like a good southern girl. And she didn't entirely reject that idea. All the women she grew up with and admired - her grandmother, mother and aunts were wonderful homemakers and mothers. But deep down, Portia always knew she would never be content just being that. She wanted more. She had dreams of being a name-partner at a boutique firm in New Orleans, perhaps even running for Senator someday.

And those dreams never come to fruition without a law license, or with a filed complaint against her at the Bar Association. On the other hand, she would lose the love of her life and have to publicly be seen with a vampire in front of Louisiana's political elite. And she thought that with a particular level of repulse. She felt this was God's way of punishing her for working for vamps, for taking their money and their car. This was her punishment for wanting too much. She regretted ever even taking Olivia's meeting.

This made Olivia's heart sink a little. "I never regretted breaking off with my fiance."

"You… You were once engaged too?"

Olivia officially hated this conversation, but this made Portia's mind stop spinning uncontrollably for a moment. "Twice. And I can happily report that I am better off without either of them." And I'm sure you will too. Olivia had met Glenn, and she was not impressed. She was not a Bellefleur fan by any means, but anyone with a brainwave would agree she could do better. Especially if she wanted to become a Senator.

The woman was at a loss. She just couldn't go through with it - breaking up with him would be impossible. She had sent the wedding invitations already. What would her grandma or Andy, her brother, think? And Glenn was a good man. He didn't deserve to be abandoned like this, but he didn't deserve to be lied to either. Portia's heart was completely torn with the idea of lying to Glenn about where she would be this Friday night, but it was the only way. There was no way in hell he would let her go if he knew.

Oh God, Portia thought she needed his permission to go? Fucking pathetic. Maybe she was wrong about the lawyer after all. Maybe her ambitions lied elsewhere: she wanted to be a bride for a day far more than a powerful woman for a lifetime. Disappointed, Olivia packed her briefcase and headed to the door. Served her right for believing Portia was anything like Olivia. No one was like Olivia.

But before she left, she decided to give Portia one final piece of advice. Portia was now staring at many seasons old Michael Kors purse with mascara smudged on her cheek.

"I'll tell you this, Portia. Sooner or later we will always disappoint men because we just aren't what they want us to be." Portia looked at Olivia, both hating and admiring her at the same time. To her, Olivia was everything she despised, and yet, everything she wanted to be. "But my career never woke up one day and told me it didn't love me back."

It was a Thursday that felt a hell lot like a shitty Sunday morning. Alcide had a splitting headache that throbbed right behind his eyes, definitely exacerbated by the buzzing fluorescent office lights. The words in the police report he was attempting to read blurred together, in and out of focus. She's dead, he thought as he felt the agonizing pit of guilt that churned in his stomach. She's definitely dead. He attempted to recruit the vampire's accountant as a confidential informant and she had been caught red-handed by one of Northman's cronies. There was no way in hell the vamp Sheriff would accept that kind of betrayal. Olivia Carson was surely dead in a ditch somewhere or scattered through the stomachs of the alligators in the Red River. Alcide contemplated asking the local werewolf pack to search the woods for her body, but he did not want to owe Patrick Furnan, the Shreveport pack leader, any favors yet. Getting involved in the pack was the last thing he wanted right now.

Alcide had done everything according to the protocol: establish a hierarchy of the gang, scout the middle tier operatives, approach them discreetly, let them choose a meeting place, put immunity on the table as your very first move. But he was a fool to think Olivia Carson, or Eric Northman for that matter, was anything like what they taught in the Training Academy. First of all, she looked like she walked out of a perfume commercial. She had long and shiny light orange golden hair, paired with her big brown eyes, perfect smile and if we are being honest, perfect legs. That dead fucker surely knew how to scout them.

He wondered how fast or slowly he had killed her. Maybe he didn't, a little hopeful voice whispered in his mind. But he knew how absolutely rotten and vicious vampires were. And Eric Northman did not have a reputation of being merciful. Still, the local police hadn't gotten a call of a body found anywhere which was the thin silver lining holding him together right now.

Alcide had gotten maybe 3 hours of sleep in the past night, followed by a string of poorly slept nights which now resulted in this sweat-inducing migraine. He was once again awakened by Debbie, his ex, who rang the bell and knocked loudly at his door at 2 in the fucking morning.

She was reeking of vampire blood and was high as fucking kite. Her relapse this time was the worse one yet. Debbie pulled shit like this often, unfortunately. She always tried to seduce him whenever she got high, drunk, or both. Once that failed (though Alcide was weak from time to time, which only made him hate himself), she always had a mental breakdown of some kind. It was as if the good Lord flipped a coin: she either broke down crying or attempted to violently trash his place, yard, or his car. The times she just sobbed herself to sleep on the couch were the lucky ones. She was always gone by the time he got up the next day. But every time started the same: she wanted him back, she was going to change, they needed to be together, they were meant for one another. He knew the speech by heart by now.

Last night he had gotten off easy: just some yelling outside his house which woke up just about everyone in the neighbourhood, and just as the cop sirens echoed through the street, she turned into a wolf and charged into the woods.

The rest of the night was spent with him tossing and turning, hating himself for letting her destroy herself like that. Hating himself for not doing more for her. Hating himself for doing too much perhaps. He was trying to cut her loose for good, but instead, he seemed to be feeding this enormous monster somehow. He could ask to be reassigned to a place she couldn't follow. He could and probably should walk away from her, but he just couldn't let her go. They've been in love since they were 14. Debbie was all he knew.

He was an idiot, he knew that too.

To make matters worse, his dad was blowing up his phone all week. The only time he answered a call from Jackson Herveaux was father's day and Christmas. To say they did not get along would be putting it lightly. Alcide understood that being two-natured made you inherently different from other people. He also understood that being part of a pack came with responsibilities - he respected the ancient culture he inherited at birth. But that didn't mean he wanted to partake in it or become the next pack leader of the Mississippi pack. It didn't mean he wanted to take pride in impregnating every female werewolf he came across just to keep their numbers up. It didn't mean he wanted to consort with criminals and other sleazy characters during the day, just because they hunted and howled at the moon at night. It also didn't mean he was willing to sacrifice so much of his life and career to put the pack first. His dad sacrificed so much for his position in the pack without any hesitation that made Alcide question if it was all worth it. He decided it wasn't, which is why he never joined a pack since he left home.

And it certainly did not mean he wanted to do whatever favor his father was about to ask, because that was always the case when he called. If Jackson Herveaux addressed you by your name, you best believe he wanted something from you. But unlike Alcide, pappa Jackson didn't believe in owing favors. Alcide was his son, and he was to serve the interests of his pack leader until the day he died. He never accepted the fact that Alcide left.

Feeling like he needed fresh air before his head exploded, Alcide exited his stuffy designated office. The police station in Shreveport had a special room for federal agents when they came by on assignment, and this one hadn't been used in at least two years, judging by the musk on the carpet. He awkwardly made his way out of his little room and crossed the station office floor. All he could hear were cops listening to the football game on the radio while the phones rang off the hook. Shreveport PD clearly recruited only the absolute cream of the crop, as you can imagine.

Out of the corner of his eye, like a glistening apricot-colored lollipop was the woman who haunted his thoughts - and it wasn't Debbie. She stood there like a hallucination, a mirage caused by the brain aneurysm he was sure he was having.

"Olivia?" He asked absolutely no one, catching her attention.

She was standing in the hallway, living, breathing and moving. She was wearing a dusty blue wrap dress that made her skin look perfectly sunkissed, holding an ivory purse and matching heels that made her 3 inches taller, but she was still much smaller than himself. Olivia looked stunning as always, acting like her normal confident self while talking to the second half of this nightmare.

This is how he knew she wasn't a figment of his guilty conscious manifesting. She was talking to no one other than his own father in the hallway just past the Chief's office. He immediately B-lined right to them. He didn't know why, but having the two together was like watching a time bomb. Why the hell were they talking anyway?! Why was either of them here?

"Alcide my boy!" His father cheered with a belly laugh. "Is your phone broke or somethin'? I've been calling you-"

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"Patrick Furnan called for a round of golf, I figured, ya know," he nudged at Olivia, which made his insides cringe. "I am in the best shape of my life, why not kick some ass right? Couldn't resist."

And the worst part is that she laughed right along with him. He knew his dad was lying. Patrick Furnan and Jackson hated each other. But since Furnan became a successful businessman with all his Harley Davidson dealerships, they suddenly discovered they could stomach each other's presence if they played fucking golf. His dad wasn't even good at golf, so you know he wasn't really there for Shreveport's finest 9 hole course.

"Olivia," Alcide nodded, and she gave him a warm smile that made his chest full.

She was nothing like the woman he met with last night. The scared conflicted girl who was escorted out by vampires was not here today.

"Oh, you two know each other already?" Oh boy. If Alcide hadn't blown this, his dad was surely about to.

"We went out for drinks last night." Olivia looked up at him with a warm smile, that he could swear she was flirting with him. In front of his dad. Alcide wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Did you now?" His dad gave another big belly laugh to disguise a surprised look.

Jackson knew Alcide had never dated anyone other than Debbie since he was about 14. And even though he was a firm believer werewolves should procreate as much as they could, he had told him, again and again, to never ever knock up Debbie Pelt. Whatever breed she came from, he deemed her unstable.

Before his dad could embarrass him any further, Alcide changed topics entirely. "Olivia, what brings you to the precinct today?"

"I just had a meeting with the police Chief. He wanted to give an update on the arson investigation."

"Oh, I heard about that. Someone set the vamp bar on fire. Do they have any leads?" Jackson asked.

"No, not really. It seems like all cops in Louisiana operate on theories rather than evidence." Olivia responded while smirking directly at Alcide.

Her words were a knife to the heart but they only caused his dad to burst out laughing once again. "She's a comedian, this one!"

"Hilarious." Alcide was running out of topics to run to. "Dad, you've been calling all week. Wanna cut to the chase? Olivia, if you'll excuse us."

She nodded, and politely excused herself. His dad watched her walk away like the little creep he was. Alcide started to walk his dad out of the station, about 10 feet behind Olivia while his dad blabbed on about his hot new receptionist. He still could not believe his eyes. How in the world did Eric let her live? What the hell did she tell him? She stayed by the entrance, and dialled a number on the phone, looking vaguely at the parking lot. It seemed as if she were calling a cab. Alcide proceeded to escort his father to his car, a white mustang, parked not too far from the entrance.

"What are you doing here?" Alcide muttered. If he were quick enough to shoo his dad away, he could talk to Olivia before she disappeared again. Though, she seemed easy enough to find.

"Jeez, you could at least pretend to be happy to see your old man."

"I'm thrilled. Now, what do you want?"

"Why do you think I want anything?" Alcide pinched his brows, staring down his dad. "Fine, fine... I got important business in Miami all weekend, but I bought tickets to a campaign fundraiser tomorrow night. It would be impolite not to send someone on my behalf."

"Since when do you care about being impolite?"

"Since the person the fundraiser is for is running a pro-infrastructure campaign and I want his surveying contracts if he wins."

Alcide didn't need any more information to put two and two together. He knew exactly what his father was talking about: Truman Burrell was hosting a campaign fundraiser in Baton Rouge for Governor leadership in the following elections. A big part of his campaign was based on investing in infrastructure (Lord knows Louisiana needed it, especially after Katrina) which would generate a lot of jobs in construction. His father, owning the biggest construction surveying company in the south, definitely would make an extra hefty paycheck if he landed that contract.

"Let me guess, the difference between the fundraiser and the business in Miami is that one has college-aged werewolves and the other doesn't."

"And I'll let you guess which one does if you go to the fundraiser for me." His father joked. They both knew the werewolves would be wherever Jackson Herveaux was. Alcide however, did not laugh. "Oh, come on son, do this one favour for your old man."

"Dad, I have a life you know? I have things to do."

"Sure you do, like that pretty young thing you took out for drinks."

"Yeah, what were you even doing talking to her? She's not like us."

"She's the one who approached me, I'll have you know." Alcide did not believe this blatant lie for one second, but his dad looked genuine which must only mean he was getting better at lying. "Why don't you take her?"

"Take her where?"

"To the fundraiser! I bought two tickets. Get the presidential suite at the Renaissance Hotel, rent a fancy car, introduce her to some rich people. That will surely impress her."

It would certainly buy him alone time with Olivia, away from Eric and his vampire cronies. But he also didn't want to give her the wrong impression he was trying to bed her. Not that he wouldn't, but he certainly shouldn't, he knew that much. He watched a cab pull into the parking lot, and if he were going to take that leap of faith, he had to act quickly.

"Fine. Swing by for supper after your golf match."

"Atta boy!" He gave him a hard pat on the back and Alcide jogged between the parked cars before Olivia got into the car.

"Olivia!"

She seemed surprised to see him again, but she smiled with her strawberry-coloured lips which looked extra biteable today. Words suddenly escaped him. How do you ask a possible CI to go out of town to an elite event so he could gain her trust and indict her boss, without sounding like you're asking her to prom?

"You want something?" She asked.

"It sounds stupid, but there's this event my dad wants me to go tomorrow," she clung to every word he was saying as if he were about to tell her the meaning of the universe. "It's in Baton Rouge, away from… Prying eyes. I know you said you don't date, but this wouldn't be like that-"

"I'm in." She said immediately, wholeheartedly and without hesitation.

"Oh," he actually didn't expect her to agree so easily. Maybe she was finally ready to talk. "Great. This is a black-tie event, you think you can handle it?"

"Alcide, when have you ever seen me underdressed?"

"Right. Okay, I don't know what Enterprise will have for car rentals, but I'll pick you up tomorrow at around 1."

"Lady!" The cab driver yelled, rolling down his window. "Are you getting in or not?!"

"Yes, I am! Here, take this." Olivia rummaged through her purse and handed him a black fob that felt heavy in his hand before getting in the back of the cab. "It's parked in the employee lot at Fangtasia."

He looked at the fob a little closer. It had a logo any man would have recognized. "You... Have a Corvette?"

"Yep. See you tomorrow!" She said with the most beautiful smile.

And before he could ask why she wasn't driving it, the cab drove away. And that was just one out of ten thousand questions he was going to ask her tomorrow.

A.N:

You GUYS! I'm back, ready to attack. Can you picture Eric's face when she walks in with Alcide? CAN YOU PICTURE IT YOU GUYS? UGH I'M SO EXCITED I COULD SCREAM

Also special little treat for you: I'm posting 2 chapters tonight! I can't contain my excitement, and once you read it you'll understand it.

xoxo