by H P Tune
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
About hp tune
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Rewriting the Ending
by hp tune
Acknowledgements
As time has passed, I have found gratitude in the losses and loves from which this book grew its roots. I am appreciative of the opportunity to share the end product with others, and should a few readers find connection or enjoyment within these pages, then that, too, is a bonus.
Although this was a work of midnight chapters, it wouldn't have made it this far without a few important people.
For Gabs: a million thank yous for the year of shared late-night motivation, brainstorming, and wine.
For Michelle: your endless patience with my fluid timeline and tolerance of my humour is so appreciated and valued.
And for Laura: for whom I will always stay.
CHAPTER 1
It had been an absolute battle to get to the expansive entrance of the Emirates Lounge at Los Angeles International Airport. Or, rather, to get to their partner lounge in LAX run by Korean Air. All Juliet wanted now was to slip through the glass doors, pour herself a glass of white wine, and sit down. A chair, a bed, a lounge—she wasn’t fussy. She just wanted to be off her tired and sore feet.
Not that it mattered what she wanted as the immaculately dressed young man behind the counter turned her business class ticket over and over in his hands. His face was deadpan as he peered over and ran his eyes up and down her slim body. It was barely perceptible, but his eyebrows rose slightly before his face went politely blank again.
Juliet scowled. She was pretty sure he was judging her faded yoga pants and slightly stretched cap sleeve T-shirt unworthy. Her matted blonde hair was probably not helping her cause either, nor were the Merrells on her feet.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but all business class boarding passes must be stamped for lounge entry unless you have your Skywards membership card with you.”
Juliet swallowed heavily. She cast her gaze to the print on the wall of the Los Angeles skyline and sighed.
“Right, ah, Jeremy is it?” She squinted at the name badge pinned to the left side of his chest, scowling at how she had to lean forward to make out the small font.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, raising his left hand in front of him as if to protect himself from her using his name again. “However, I cannot allow you access on this boarding card.”
“Yes, Jeremy, you have made your policy very clear. However, let me just tell you a little bit about how I’ve come to be standing here in front of your delightful tone. We have to thank for this intimate moment not one but two cancelled connecting flights on a codeshare ticket, followed by an absolute string of expletives being screamed next to my ear by another passenger, grossly intoxicated, by the way. And to cap it all off, one of your employees used me as a protective shield, earning me a significant bruise to my shoulder when I body-blocked a flying laptop bag thrown at her by another irate passenger. Add to that not having slept in the last thirty-eight hours since my journey began in Arizona, three security checks, and two hours of waiting for the privilege of standing in front of this lounge, not to mention the five hours I will now have to wait for a very long flight to Dubai. By the way, Dubai will still not be my final destination. Believe it or not, that will be Brussels!”
Although to his credit, he gave her a fleeting look of disbelief, Jeremy mostly maintained an air of quiet confidence mixed with a petulant toddler’s resolve.
“I understand that you have had a difficult day,” he said. “However, I am still not able to approve your entry.”
Juliet tipped her head back and raked her fingers through her greasy hair, exhausted and fuming. “You have my original ticket, you have my boarding pass, and I’m sure there is record of my upgrade in the system. I strongly suggest you work your magic, sir, before I make my third consecutive complaint.” She carefully disguised the term asshole under her breath as he shuffled a few papers on the desk, his only attempt at appeasement.
“Perhaps I can be of some help.”
Juliet turned around at the sudden interruption. Another passenger stood queued behind her, waiting in a calm, patient stance. “Your name?” the woman asked, her deep brown eyes sparkling as she smiled widely. She tucked her thick, dark hair behind her ear.
“Ah, Juliet. Juliet Taylor.” Her body shrunk into itself as her stuttered response left her mouth slightly ajar.
This earned a nod and a wink from the woman before she pressed herself over the counter. Her ample breasts were exposed by her plunging neckline, and a thick gold chain and pendant had fallen into the hollowed space within her cleavage.
“My card, Jeremy—Skywards Gold. And my boarding pass. Now, Ms Taylor will be joining me as one of my permitted guests while you go about sorting out this unnecessary debacle. It sounds as if Ms Taylor has been through enough today, and I would appreciate you contacting John, my Emirates consultant, who will ensure that she is adequately compensated. I suggest you look me up.”
Coughing and with a slight blush to his cheeks, Jeremy handed the card back to the woman and glanced at his computer screen. His eyes dilated slightly, and his demeanour immediately altered. “Of course, Mrs Revira, go ahead. I will find you inside and advise you of the outcome. I apologise for the inconvenience.”
Eyes falling and hands reaching down to her hips, the woman smoothed the skirt over her thighs and toyed briefly with the silk belt tied just over the right of her pelvis. “It’s ‘Ms,’ thank you, but ‘Mia’ is fine.”
Handbag over her shoulder, Mia Revira took the handle of her Louis Vuitton cabin bag and nodded at Juliet to follow. Juliet felt slightly stunned as she trailed wordlessly behind, laptop bag across her chest and faded Mont daypack over her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said as Mia led them to a quiet corner where two excessively large lounge chairs sat with a low white coffee table between them.
“Oh, of course, not a problem; the kid is a waste of space.”
Leaving her wheeled case in the walkway next to her, Mia slumped down on the chair and moved her fingers through her straightened hair. “He once told my, ah…” She hesitated a moment before shaking her head. A smile pressed at her lips. “My sister…He told my sister she wasn’t appropriately dressed—something ridiculous about exposed toes. I mean, she was wearing Jimmy Choos.”
Juliet politely laughed, and a quick search of her few memories of the name Jimmy Choos recalled some fancy heels that she would never be caught wearing. Well, certainly she would never be skilled enough to walk in them, anyway. “Well, thank you again. I’m just desperate for a shower and some food and to finally sit in
something more comfortable than a plastic airport chair.”
“Yeah, sounds like you’ve had an absolute shit of a day,” Mia said.
Juliet could see how her own surprise provoked another smile in Mia, and it made Juliet laugh again, more genuinely this time.
“Leave whatever you don’t need here, and I’ll have a wine waiting for you after your shower,” Mia said. “Red or white?”
“Umm, yeah okay, sure. I would love a white wine. As long as you don’t mind my company.”
“Not at all. On long-haul flights, it’s always nice to have someone sane to make conversation with.”
“I could be a serial killer,” Juliet said. She let just the corner of her mouth turn up.
“Ah, a serial killer who can’t manage a power-hungry but very juvenile desk boy?”
“Fair call, thanks. Get me that white wine, then.”
“Blend?”
“Sorry?”
“Do you want a blend? You know, what kind of white wine is your drink of choice?”
Juliet felt herself blush slightly. “I don’t mind. A sauv blanc, if they have it, but at this stage, I would take whatever was offered.”
“Go shower,” Mia said as she gave the smallest of waves to a staff member who rushed over in the middle of wiping another table with a damp dishcloth.
Juliet dropped her laptop onto the chair opposite her and wandered off, suddenly grateful for the clean clothes, hairbrush and travel-sized perfume she had stuffed down the bottom of her backpack. She couldn’t wait to stand for at least ten minutes under steaming hot water. And if she ever successfully arrived in Belgium, she told herself with a certainty she already knew was pretty delusional that she was never stepping foot on another plane again.
* * *
As she walked back from her shower, manoeuvring past tables and the occasional briefcase, Juliet’s first sight of Mia was her discarded heels, neatly paired together on the floor by her chair. Her feet rested on the edge of the coffee table, primly crossed at the ankles, with toenails perfectly manicured and polished. Her elbow sat propped on the side of the chair. She was nibbling at a small piece of bread. Her long dark hair—past her shoulders and halfway down her back—was cut with a fringe that was brushed across her forehead and styled towards her temple. She had the most incredible figure that Juliet had ever seen, beautiful curves and a strong posture, and delicately smooth dark skin. Latino heritage, maybe, given her surname. But then, she could just be married to a Latino, given how Jeremy had called her Mrs Revira. Although it was intriguing that she had corrected him on that. The way she had played with her belt had made it seem like the moment had somehow bothered her.
“Hi,” Mia said when Juliet placed her backpack on the floor, sliding slowly into the soft seat opposite. “You look a little more refreshed.”
Again, Juliet felt her cheeks warm. “I never expect to use my emergency change of clothes, but I just discovered a good reason why I should pack them.”
“I’m not beyond doing a bit of airport shopping just so I can change, I must admit.”
“True,” Juliet said. “Always an option.”
“Well, you look good,” Mia said. As Juliet repositioned her fitted, long-sleeved shirt over the waist of her jeans, she thought she caught Mia glimpsing at her white skin. “And so ready for a wine.”
“Absolutely exactly what I need after today.” She took a long sip and dropped a few macadamia nuts into her mouth as she settled back into the chair. “So I’m sorry I didn’t quite introduce myself properly. I’m Juliet, and I’m completely indebted to you for saving me from young dictator Jeremy.”
Mia grinned and handed her boarding pass to her. “I know, Ms Juliet Danielle Taylor,” she said. “Always a good way to find out someone’s full name: just look at their boarding pass or passport.”
“And it’s only fair to share, then.” The banter came easy to Juliet, and she relaxed as she lifted herself slightly off the chair to grasp Mia’s passport on the table.
“A fellow American,” she said. “And oh, it’s not Mia.” Her eyebrows rose as she read. At Mia’s audible groan, she added, “Mallania…That’s gorgeous. I like it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Unless you’re my father yelling at me, it’s not really used. So I haven’t heard it in a long while.”
“Well, you should use it. It’s unusual, nice.”
“Yeah, right,” Mia said. “On a different note, you’re sorted for the rest of your trip, a little upgrade to first class.”
“Really?”
“The downside is that you’re stuck next to me until Heathrow, but you can always block yourself off. These flights have the dividers in them.”
“You organised this?”
“I called in a favour, no big deal. My family have a pretty hefty account with Emirates. The airline wouldn’t like to upset me.”
“So, for the second time today, I owe you a thank-you.”
Mia shook her head. “Really not a drama at all.”
“I haven’t even left the States, and this has already been a crazy trip. It’s just surreal. I started the trip in cattle class and have ended up in first. Nothing like a silver lining.”
“Oh yeah. I heard you mention the person throwing a laptop bag at you…What the hell?”
“I know!” Juliet shrugged. “Makes a good story, I suppose, presuming I actually get to Belgium to tell it. Anyway, how about you? Where are you off to? Where did you start?”
“Hold that thought. We need a top-up while I’m standing.” She soon returned from the bar with two fresh glasses on a tray, along with two plates of various canapés. “I had one of these smoked salmon pastries before—divine.”
Juliet took one and emitted soft murmurs of satisfaction.
“I haven’t come far today, just drove from Vegas,” Mia said. “I caught up with a friend there for a few days ’cause I’m headed to Scotland for a while. Not really sure when I’ll be back.”
“Really?” Juliet asked, licking her lips and sitting herself up a little straighter. “That’s a long way to go for an indefinite amount of time. What’s over there?”
Mia hesitated, breathing deeply in a clearly deliberate way and using what Juliet guessed was a calm expression perfected over years for use when she was feeling anything but calm. She had learned such techniques herself the hard way.
“Just a family property over there,” Mia said. “So I’m having a bit of a break and checking up on things. I thought I may as well do some relaxing and getting back to nature.”
“It’s meant to be beautiful in Scotland. I haven’t seen a lot, just spent some time in Edinburgh when I was younger. Or rather, I drank my way around Edinburgh, which is the way I spent most of my youth in the UK and Europe.”
“It really is beautiful. I’ve spent a couple of summers there, and it’s just stunning. Can’t say I’ve done the backpacking and drinking gig, though. Not that I’m not partial to the odd bottle or two.” She flashed Juliet a slight grin and a sheepish glance at her glass. “Obviously.”
“There’s a point where you definitely outgrow sharing a room with fifteen other equally irresponsible young people. Though seriously, it’s not so summery in Scotland at the moment…”
“No, I think freakin’ freezing is what you’re looking for. Though Brussels won’t be any better!”
“I know, no idea what I’m thinking, actually. I’m not a huge one for the cold.”
“So, what sends you over there?”
Juliet sighed heavily, though she smiled. “My editor. I’ve missed a crapload of deadlines, and if I don’t finish this book, I’m going to have to pay back my advance and lose my contract. We’re calling it a sabbatical, and if he hears that I’m recapturing my backpacking youth, I’m in trouble.”
“A book? You’re an author?”
“Well…” Juliet’s eyes cast briefly to the ceiling. “If that’s what you call writing one book and then failing to produce another…then I guess so.”
“You sound like my editor, a little cheer squad. I’m actually heading to Bruges, a bit quieter and cheaper too. My budget isn’t quite first class.”
“And what’s the plan? How long will it take?”
Juliet scoffed, dramatically dropping her head back. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve said six months, but I’m not sure…I’m not convinced it will ever get written.”
She heard the hint of sadness edging into her own voice. She stretched out her neck, reaching across the table and letting her hand linger over the remaining appetizers, trying to choose. “Was that good?” she asked quietly, nodding towards the small piece of quiche remaining in Mia’s fingers.
“Yeah, good. It has bacon, though, so only if you’re not a vegetarian…”
“Definitely not. And bacon…Everything is better with bacon.”
“Thank God for that. I might have had to get you kicked out of this lounge if you were one of those vege types.
Juliet yawned, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. She checked her watch, working hard to mentally calculate their time until boarding. “Still three hours.” She screwed up her nose.
“Why don’t you sleep a little? I won’t let you miss the boarding call.”
“Sorry, I’m not great company after all. It’s been a long day—or two days.”
Jumping up, Mia padded barefooted to an adjacent chair, gripping a cushion by the corner. The pendant around her neck bounced against her chest as she bent over the chair, and the silk top that she wore rode slightly up her back, exposing a muscular lumbar. Juliet allowed herself a prolonged, self-indulgent stare. It had been a long time since she had permitted herself an unfiltered fantasy. And this woman was perfect stimuli for her imagination—robust and with lips that she could devour in seconds. She felt a wry smile on her face when Mia was suddenly standing over her looking perplexed.
“Here,” she said. “Put this under your head; you’re dazing out. Get some shut-eye.” Juliet found it intriguing that someone clearly as wealthy and no doubt educated as Mia could slip into colloquial phrasing that wouldn’t have been out of place in Juliet’s own family home when she was growing up.
