Hawke's Flight (Julia Hawke Series Book 3)

by Natasha West

  ‘Because we’re supposed to be a couple’ I eventually stuttered out. ‘But if you can’t even tell me what’s going on in your life, then what’s the point?’

  ‘Yeah’ she said. ‘What is the point? When you think so little of me?’

  I’d thought I’d wanted to delay the moment we ended. But I found myself running toward it.

  ‘So you’re saying it? That we’re finished?’

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. And then she gave a small, joyless laugh. ‘If that’s what you want, then it seems so, doesn’t it? I guess your mum’s got some good news coming to her, anyway.’

  Julia got up and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind her. And it was done. The thing I’d been waiting for, consciously for the last few weeks but probably always on some level, had happened. It was finished.

  I went upstairs and sat down at my desk, staring out of the window. I don’t know how much time passed. I think I was in a kind of shock, my daze making time vanish. When I eventually came too, the sun had set. It was pitch dark in my room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When I got home from Penny’s house, I looked at my email and found an invitation to the book award, it was in a few months. I couldn’t have cared less.

  I was alone again. And I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that didn’t feel a sort of relief in that. I wasn’t happy about it, putting it mildly. But this had been inevitable. And now it had happened, I could stop waiting for it. It wasn’t much in the way of comfort, but it was all I had.

  I began to think about how I would commemorate this terrible moment. The only girl I’d ever really loved had broken things off. And of course, when I added the events in Felton to that pain, I knew my life was experiencing a low that was nearly unparalleled.

  Perhaps I should have simply cried, like normal people do. But I didn’t. Instead, I thought practically. Something had happened that would take me down, if I let it. I had to fight the sadness back, not to let it get ahold of me. And I had to act quickly if I was going to win the fight.

  When I thought back to all the worst moments I’d had, it was clear to me how I usually dealt with this.

  Sex. Shallow, mindless sex.

  I knew it wouldn’t make me feel better. It would only be distraction. But right now, that didn’t sound so bad. I thought back through the conquests of the years, seeing women the way I used to, like an assassin looking down the barrel of a sniper rifle. It was easy enough to slip into her, Old Julia. She fitted like a glove.

  Anonymous sex would be easy enough to come by, or at least it always had been. I could walk into a bar, have a few drinks and wait until the right kind of girl wandered into my view. And once she had, I’d find her or she’d find me and it would happen.

  So an hour later, that’s exactly where I was, in a lesbian bar in the gay part of town, one of the few left for woman only. I was dressed to the nines in my favourite grey pencil skirt, sheer black blouse and heels you could kill a man with. The outfit had worked its magic on many students over the years and it’s reach extended beyond young females. It tended to have a lot of crossover appeal.

  So I ordered a double vodka, chose a seat at the bar and sat, waiting. It took about twenty minutes for my strategy to work. And if I’d approached the woman giving me looks from across the bar, it would have taken less than five. But I waited for her to come to me. She was a tall, shiny-haired blonde with deep red lipstick and cheekbones of steel, she looked to be about mid-twenties. She was perfect. Perfect for my purposes, anyway.

  Eventually, when she couldn’t take anymore, she buckled and sent me a drink via the barwoman. I took a long deep sip before raising it to her, a gesture of thanks. She walked right over.

  ‘Hi’ she said, a little nervously.

  ‘Hello’ I said, as though she were a five instead of a ten. ‘Thanks for the drink’ I said and knocked the rest of it back.

  ‘Can I get you another?’ she asked. She was on her back foot, that was for sure. Which was just the way I liked them. It was obvious she was not used to approaching women. She’d probably never had to before. But I’ve always known how to pull a woman toward me.

  ‘Why not?’ I said casually. I was playing ridiculously hard to get but I didn’t feel remotely bad about it. It would do this woman good to work for it for a change. I know, I’m one to talk. But I was heartbroken, so I was cutting myself all sorts of slack tonight.

  She ordered the drink and then she held out her hand, trying to push through her nerves. ‘I’m Camille.’

  ‘Julia’ I replied, taking her hand softly. I decided it was time to take my cool act back a notch, so I gave her a smile with some serious eye contact as we shook.

  ‘Julia’ she repeated, tasting my name. And then ‘Can I ask you something?’

  This oughta be good.

  ‘You’re not straight, are you? You haven’t just wandered in here by accident or you’re waiting for a friend or something?’

  My god, she really wasn’t used to being toyed with like this if that was her fear.

  ‘I’m not straight, no.’

  I wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed in that answer, being that it meant she was getting a hard time from someone she fully expected to fall at her feet. But on the other hand…

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking. I just don’t want to spend half the night trying to chat up a straight woman.’

  I laughed.

  ‘You’re not wasting your time, Camille, if that’s your concern.’

  She smiled in relief because she knew she was going to get what she wanted. We both would.

  We talked for about fifteen minutes, covering the usuals. Jobs (she was a pharmaceutical sales rep), the fact that we were both single (I obviously didn’t mention that I’d been single for only a few hours), what areas we lived in, what gyms we worked out at. It was all textbook stuff and I would have just as soon skipped it, but people need their rituals to feel comfortable. So I played along, ticking the boxes until we could move to the inevitable.

  What I ascertained in the minutes of chatter, underneath the facts, were a couple of things about Camille that she probably didn’t know she was telling me. Firstly, she wasn’t a nice girl. Not in the classic I’m-a-bad-girl-so-you’d-better-punish-me sense. I mean it literally. The girl was mean. I could tell by the way she looked at other woman in the bar and by subtle things she said about people in her life. Of course, she was nice as pie to me, because she wanted something from me. But I was certain I’d be talking to a very different person if I happened to get in her way.

  The second thing was that she was smarter than she wanted people to know. She played the naïf like a pro but it was screaming out. Subtle as it was, I could see that underneath the banal comments, she never stopped trying to read the situation, find her angle. Although I didn’t care why she was dumbing herself down, my mind couldn’t help but try to understand it. I had to think she lived in a world where girls that looked like her weren’t supposed to be sharp. It was a shame, but there again, there was something quite unlikable about Camille, so I didn’t feel too bad about it.

  And that was absolutely fine because I didn’t need to like Camille. She didn’t exactly seem to like me either, in anyway other than physical. We had nothing whatsoever in common, except a desire for sex with a hot specimen of womanhood. And she was that, undeniably.

  Eventually, Camille made her move. She leaned in and slipped her hand onto my thigh, whispering ‘Do you wanna go somewhere else?’

  It was code, of course. It wasn’t a question of relocation. If I said yes to her question, I was saying yes to sex. I leaned back, taking my time with my affirmative response, wondering where it might happen.

  Perhaps she’d take me to her place. Or possibly the nearest hotel, if she was lying about being single, which was a possibility. Or if we really couldn’t wait, maybe right here, in the toilets. Not necessarily the classiest of locations, but needs must w
hen the devil drives.

  The last option that occurred to me was bringing her back to my place. And when it did occur, it ruined everything.

  Thinking about how it would feel to be naked with a stranger in the bed I’d shared with Penny, her place taken by someone who I didn’t care about, someone who didn’t care about me, it made it sound a lot less fun. And the more I thought about it like that, the worse things got.

  Camille wasn’t Penny. That had been the appeal of her to begin with but now? Compared to Penny, Camille was like a shadow. And I’d be a shadow too, if I slept with her. Old Julia. That’s what she was, I realised. Just a puppet, her strings pulled by instincts that had been learned in childhood.

  Because it was my father that had taught me to behave like this. To keep moving, to use people as steps on a ladder that only ever took me further away from ever being happy. To be alone. And now look at him. He was at the end and all he wanted was people around him who cared.

  Once I’d had that thought, sex with a stranger was disgusting. I wanted to throw up at the idea.

  ‘Camille’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, I think I need to go.’

  Camille’s reaction was pure shock and once she gotten over it, she seemed to decide that I was still playing hard to get.

  ‘Julia, let’s not mess around, alright? We both know what you came in here for. And if you think you’re going to find better than me…’ she trailed off, brazenly.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her conceit. ‘It’s not about you, Camille’ I said, trying to be kind. ‘I’m just not in the mood, I guess.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘Not in the mood?’ she said and I could see I’d exposed the nasty side of Camille. And it was pointing squarely at me. ‘You took up my time, let me buy you drinks and now you’re going to pretend you just changed your mind? What the fuck kind of game are you playing?’

  I wasn’t laughing now. ‘I’m not playing games. Not anymore.’ I stood quickly, not wanting this situation to descend into the dramatic scene it was headed toward. I needed to get out of here, away from Camille, away from myself. Old Julia wasn’t feeling so good anymore.

  ‘You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?’ Camille offered as a parting shot.

  ‘Yeah’ I agreed. ‘So it would seem.’

  I walked out before she could say anything else.

  I didn’t go straight home. The canal that ran through Medford was nearby and I found myself looking into its depths. I couldn’t understand what had just taken place. I’d had the right kind of girl in the palm of my hand, begging for exactly the right kind of sex. And I didn’t take it. Because of my fucking father. That man couldn’t seem to stop ruining my life, even when he wasn’t trying.

  For the first time in my entire life, I had no desire to fix myself with sex. In fact, what I decided to do instead shocked even me.

  I googled a therapist.

  Chapter Twenty

  Four Months Later

  ‘I can’t believe it. Draft One. Done’ I muttered to myself, looking at my first complete screenplay.

  Once Zara and I had finished all the talking, the developing and the planning, the final part of the process, the actual writing, had been left to me to do by myself. It had been rough, lonely. Not because of being left to my own devices by Zara, I’d been pleased about having some time to write alone.

  It was Julia. The break-up. It had felt like it was killing me for the first two months, my broken heart barely able to keep beating with the loss. And it had only gotten slightly easier after that. But at a certain point, I was tired of being sad, and I’d been lucky to have something that would stop me thinking about Julia. I had a screenplay to write. And now it was done.

  After I’d done the obligatory proof read, I sent the draft to Zara with the message;

  Zara,

  It’s finished. I hope you like it. If you don’t, I’m sure you’ll tell me.

  P

  The reply came back quickly.

  Penny, Penny, Penny…

  You’re talented and I’ll like it. That’s something we can both take for granted. Not that I won’t still have a million notes but that’s just who I am. But onto more important matters. Once I’ve read it, you’ll owe me something. A date. When can I collect?

  Zara

  It was true, I did indeed owe her a date. After the break up, I’d been far too sad to consider Zara’s offer. But as the days and weeks went by (and as Zara flirtatiously persisted) I’d decided that I’d have to stop being miserable sometime. So I’d told Zara that I would go out with her. But only after I’d finished the first draft. I didn’t want the distraction of a new romance before I tackled such a big project. I needed to be focused.

  And I suppose that wasn’t all that held me back. But I wasn’t prepared to think about that. So I emailed back.

  How about tomorrow night?

  Her reply was brief yet problematic.

  Can’t wait. But isn’t that the night of the book awards?

  I knew full well what night it was but I was surprised that she’d remembered. I supposed it was touching that she was so invested. But there was no chance I was going to that bloody award ceremony. That was why I’d wanted to be busy in the first place, so I wouldn’t have to sit at home, miserably mulling over the nomination and its unintended fallout.

  I shot back a quick email.

  Yes, but I’m not going.

  Her reply was exactly what I’d hoped it wouldn’t be.

  Yes, you are. And I’m coming with you. No arguments.

  I crafted several different replies to refute the offer but it was no use. Nothing worked.

  It was difficult to explain why I didn’t want to go without getting into the whole Julia thing. Which of course, was quite awkward to raise with Zara. I was supposed to be moving on, getting past her. There was no way to say why I didn’t want to go that wouldn’t look iffy to Zara.

  I had no choice. I was going to have to go. Damn.

  Walking into the function hall of The Veil was uncomfortable. Everyone looked so at ease as they schmoozed their fellow nominees or agents or publishers or god knows who else in the large hall. I’d been here before, of course, in the summer. I’d had lunch with my agent, and I’d been scared stiff. In all honesty, not a lot was different tonight. I was still in over my head. Not like Zara, who walked in like she owned the place.

  Speaking of swagger, David was also in attendance. After I’d gotten in touch to mention the nomination, he’d been as shocked as I was not to be informed before the rest of the world. He’d immediately made a call and ascertained the press release had gone out early by accident. And he’d gotten himself an invitation while he was at it. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. The idea that anyone could make their living on ten percent of my book sales alone was fairly ludicrous. The man had to eat and so he was here with the obvious intent of chatting up promising authors. I didn’t hold it against him.

  And he wasn’t completely neglecting me. He spotted me fairly quickly, waving at me from a table where he was sitting with… Oh my god. It was Julia.

  I can’t explain why I was so surprised to see her. We were both nominated. But somehow, I’d been certain she wouldn’t come tonight. After the last time we’d talked, her disregard for this night had been clear enough. I’d taken it on faith that she would never stoop to attend. But somehow, she was here. I was terrified.

  I hadn’t seen her in four whole months. The awful end in my kitchen had been our last conversation. I’d thought many times about picking up the phone or even dropping round to see how she was doing. After all, her father was ill. Not that I knew anything about him. Julia had never said a word about him until she announced he was dying. But it was enough to worry me.

  I’d like to pretend her welfare was my only motivation. But it wasn’t. Selfishly, I just wanted to see her again. I’m not very proud of it, but those first few weeks had been like trying to detox a drug out of my system, so I imagined. Bu
t I refused to miss her now. How could I keep feeling like that, after the things she’d said to me at the end and the way she’d drifted further and further away without ever trying to tell me why? It was weak of me and I wouldn’t keep doing it.

  No, I was here with Zara. She wanted me. Julia didn’t.

  ‘Hey’ Zara said with a raised eyebrow. ‘That’s Julia, isn’t it? Are you going to say hello?’

  I was. I had to go over and say hello. Otherwise the entire night would be strange. Her at one end of the room, me at the other, trying to pretend the other wasn’t there. I didn’t want that. From being in love to ignoring each other’s existence? It was unimaginably ugly.

  ‘Yeah. Do you mind?’ I asked Zara.

  ‘Why should I?’ she said evenly.

  I walked over to David, who kissed me on both cheeks. I still didn’t love that but I’d learned not to be surprised by it any more. I submitted graciously.

  ‘You look great’ he told me.

  I looked down at my dress. It was dark green and short and from the way Zara had looked at it, it was a hit.

  ‘Thanks. Nice suit’ I replied.

  And then I had to turn to the other person who waited to greet me. She was in a chic grey dress, which was always her colour. And if she’d nearly made my heart stop from a distance, she was breath-taking up close. But I took that feeling and pushed it down, like I was supposed to.

  ‘Hi’ I said, aware of Zara’s eyes on me.

  ‘Penny’ she replied and kissed me warmly on the cheek, which I hadn’t expected at all and I froze as her lips pressed against me. ‘How are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Fine’ I said, feeling at a loss for a more interesting reply.

  She glanced at Zara, who said ‘How’s it going?’ It came out a tad smugger than I might have liked.

  Julia looked from Zara to me and I could see that she’d clocked the situation immediately. And then she said ‘Good. You?’ to Zara.

  Zara nodded and slipped an arm around my waist. ‘Never better.’