Free A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA by J.P. Bowie Page B

came forward and embraced him. “Was traffic awful?”
    “Not too bad. I ran into a neighbor of yours, and we chatted for a few minutes.”
    “Oh?” Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Who would that be?”
    “Winifred Owen. She had seen me and Jeff on your show and…”
    “Oh… her .” Olivia’s mouth turned down with distaste. “That old bag is a pain in the butt.”
    “She seemed very nice…”
    “She’s typical of all the old has-beens that infest this town,” Olivia ranted.
    “She had the nerve to think I could be bothered listening to her boring tales of when she was a star. Huh, some star. She made a few B-movies back in the fifties that aren’t even shown on late night television anymore, for God’s sake.
    Those people get up my nose.”
    Peter had become uncomfortably aware that several members of the camera crew had stopped their work and were staring at Olivia as she gave vent. What a shrew, he thought, turning away and walking over to his easel to prepare for the sitting. Boy, would he be glad when this was all over.
    “So, what’s the deal here?” Olivia snapped at the technicians. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She sat down on the divan and glared around the room.
    “Joyce, get me some water, pronto. You need anything, Peter?”
    “No thanks.”
    “Jeff couldn’t make it?”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “You said he’d come up next time so we could celebrate his birthday.”
    “Oh that. Well, we figured as you had come to the party—that would be it.”
    “So, he hasn’t forgiven me.”
    “Nothing like that, Olivia. He and Nick are pretty busy right now. That’s all.”
    One of the cameramen tapped him on the shoulder. “Uh…Peter, we’d like to get a close up of your brushwork as you apply the paint. It’ll mean you have to be really still. Is that OK?”
    “Of course.” Peter smiled at him. “Just say when.”

    J.P. Bowie
    49
    “I was thinking…” Olivia’s voice cut in. “When we come back down to Laguna for the final shoot, I’d like to have Emily there with you guys. You think the brother could make it too?”
    “I really don’t know, Olivia.” Peter wasn’t about to commit either one of his friends without asking them first. “I’m seeing Emily tomorrow, as a matter of fact. I can ask her then.”
    “Do that. I think they’d add something to the story.”
    “They really don’t like talking about what happened,” Peter said. “They’ve tried to put all that behind them.”
    “Yeah, yeah. But it’s the human tragedy aspect…people lap it up. ‘Specially when there’s a happy ending.” Her laugh was almost a cackle. “Everyone loves a fucking happy ending.”
    “Okay, Peter…” The cameraman was at his shoulder. “Just hold it steady there for a moment, right there on her upper lip. Good, good…now continue the brush stroke…excellent. Thanks Peter.” He turned to the rest of the crew.
    “Okay guys, we’re done. Let’s leave the artist in peace.” He nodded to Olivia who looked at him without expression.
    “Those guys,” she sighed after the crew had packed up and left. “They think the world revolves around them.”
    “Well, they do work in a pretty specialized field,” Peter said. “Without their expertise, where would you be?”
    Olivia snorted. “Hell, you work at something long enough, you’re bound to get it right eventually.”
    Peter worked in silence for a time, trying not to let Olivia’s petty attitude spoil his concentration. It was obvious she was not about to give credit where it was due. He wondered if she ever did. In true diva fashion, it seemed she thought only of herself—how she would look and sound out there—and, to a certain extent, Peter could understand some of it. After all, it was Olivia who had to maintain the illusion of the beautiful and vivacious woman who appeared before millions of people, five days a week. People who, for the most part, were not interested in those behind the camera. The