"Relax; I'm just a bit stressed. And I do swear! I swear all the time." Art responds with a very non-convincing argument.
"No, you don't. What's going on? Why are you stressed?" I sit closer to Art and put my hand on hers. She rises, starts pacing the lounge room, and stops, looking forlornly out of the window. Lo and I share an “oh, shit, this is bad” look. Art is the calm one; the levelheaded art major. What could have her so worked up?
I try to break the tension in the room the only way I know how. "We'll hide the body no questions asked."
She gives me a sad smile. "Not necessary. Not yet, anyway." It's her ex, Leo. The only person Art has ever shown murderous feelings towards is that asswipe.
"I'm thinking of leaving. I was offered a position at the National Museum of Rome. If I accept, I have to leave in two weeks."
"Why are you fucking sad? Jesus, Art, this is your dream! I'll miss you like fucking crazy, but ROME! ROME! This is what you always wanted." Lo is clearly still slightly buzzed from last night. She's forgotten that Leo lives in Italy with his wife. I sit there, silently waiting for the penny to drop. Finally, Lo realizes why Art is so apprehensive.
"No. No fucking way are you letting that asshole ruin your dream? I won't let it happen, Artemisia. You're going. I don’t care if you have to live on the same fucking street as him. YOU'RE GOING." I walk over to Art. She’s leaning against the glass wall looking up at the ceiling. Lo is the one pacing like a caged animal now.
"I agree with Lo on this. You can't let him control your life. If you still have feelings for him . . ." Art cuts me off with a glare that would melt the polar caps. "I don't have feelings for him! Yes, I loved him, but he shattered my heart and trust me, I’m over it I just don't want to be near him. I can't stand the sight of him." She pushes off the glass and runs her hands through her hair. She stops, takes a deep breath and then then turns to us. "He doesn't make my heart flutter like it did in college. Now I think that if I saw him, I'd want to rip the penis off the statue of David and stab him in the eye with it!" I try to stifle my giggle while Art passionately acts out the scene she just described. She looks a little scary. "How can I be a professional and focus on my job when I'm going to be constantly afraid he'll walk through the door?" She sighs and turns to focus on the Melbourne skyline again.
"Because you are Artemisia Moretti, the most mature, professional chick I know, and you're damn good at what you do. You go there, hold your head high, and if you happen to bump into him, just treat him like he treated you the last time you saw him. He's a pig; my guess is that he misses you more than you know. Go find yourself another less douchey, sexy Italian. In fact, find three. One for each of us. Then we'll be inclined to visit more."
Art finally giggles and wipes the stray tear from her cheek. "Okay, I'll go but if he starts any trouble, you girls have to fly over and do as you promised."
"Hide the body? With fucking pleasure!" Lo responds and we all hug.
****
Art has to go call her new boss with her acceptance, and Lo needs fresh clothes so they leave but agree to meet back at Pierce's apartment tonight to celebrate yet another new beginning.
They asked me not to go to back to my apartment without them but I really don’t think Derek will be there, he called me seventeen times from his parents’ house last night. While I make my way over to the apartment, I'm lost in my thoughts. It's been an insanely hectic weekend so far, and it's only Saturday. Not only did I finally break up with Derek, but Art is moving to Rome. I'm slightly jealous that she gets to see the world before me. I make a promise to myself that I will go to one of my dream destinations by the end of next year.
Maybe cross Spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square, off my bucket list.
I walk up to my apartment a lot happier than when I was last here. That is, until I open the door and see him sitting on the couch, waiting for me.
Chapter Three
I stand frozen in the doorway. Derek is perched on the edge of the sofa, his hands steepled in front of him. He actually looks terrible, which makes me happy. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a mess, and he's wearing clothes that look like he's slept in them.
"Jesus Derek, a bit melodramatic, don't you think? You look like shit and it's only been twenty-four hours." I roll my eyes and make my way to the bedroom. In my walk-in closet I grab my suitcase and start haphazardly tossing clothes inside. Derek is watching me from the doorway.
"Don't do this, Harbour, please. I love you; we can work it out. I fucked up . . ."
I zone him out. I don't want to hear his lame excuses. I don't want to hear him beg like the pathetic loser he is; I just want to pack and get the hell out.
Clearly, he thinks I need to hear him out so he grabs my arm forcefully and pulls me up so I’m standing. Only when he moves his face closer do I realize his eyes are bloodshot from what smells like beer.
"Fucking listen to me! We can work this out. Where are you going to find another guy to put up with your shit?" I feel spittle on my face and cringe.
"I'll take my chances. Now let me go!" I pull my arm free and receive a hard slap on my face. My eyes are watering; my cheek is numb. Fucking asshole.
I push him but he doesn't budge.
"You're just a weak bitch. You wanna leave? Fucking go! I've been fucking around behind your back since the first week we were together. You're a lousy lay, anyway."
He pushes me back into the remaining hanging clothes and I tumble with them onto the floor. Damn, my cheek is stinging. I sit there watching him; he has a scary, madman look on his face. It's as if he's deciding whether to hurt me more or let me be. I silently pray for the latter.
Thankfully, he storms out of the room and slams the door. I wait, but when I don't hear the front door open I quickly dial Pierce's number. He doesn't answer, so I leave a relatively calm message for him to head down here. I'm surprised with myself. Maybe it's because I don't think Derek will touch me again. He's hit me before but never more than a slap and some roughing up. I'm hoping guilt has gotten the better of him.
I finish packing my things in record time. I'm only taking necessities at the moment; I'll return for the rest later in the week with back up. I pull up the handle to my suitcase, take a deep breath and walk out of the bedroom with my head held high.
Derek is sitting back on the couch with his head in his hands. He looks up, first at the suitcase and then at me with a greasy smirk on his face.
"So this is it, huh? Four years and you're just gonna fucking leave like this? I didn't think you had the guts to leave me." He reaches over to the glass coffee table and picks up his beer. After taking a long drink from the bottle, he slams it back down shattering the glass table top. I jump from the noise but I try not to show him any fear. I take the last few steps to the door calmly even though my heart is racing and my brain is urging me to panic and run. "You knew! You knew all along I was cheating on you and you stayed. Why? Why leave now? Is there someone else?"
"You know what, Derek? There is someone else. ME! I'm sick of having my life controlled by a cheating loser. You are living in my apartment, I'm paying for everything, and you're probably using MY money to take your other girlfriends out! I want to travel, buy myself nice things and fuck a real man. I'm done with you. I've been done for a while."
As I walk to the front door I hear him throw his last two cents in.
"No one will love a fat secretary."
Asshole. I close the door and smile to myself. It's done. I'm officially free.
For now.
****
"What in the mother of fuck happened to your face? Your cheek looks swollen." Pierce is livid; he's seen this before.
"No biggie. You should see what I did to him." Again, my lame attempt at breaking the tension in the room with a joke backfires. He's not amused.
"Hitting a woman is not a joking matter, Harbour. I'll fucking kill him!" Pierce balls up his fists and I take them in my hands.
"Relax, it's done. He's
gone. This won't happen again."
He takes a deep breath though his nose and hugs me tightly before releasing me to retrieve an ice-pack from the freezer. "Why did you go alone? Why couldn’t you wait a couple of hours? I was scared shitless when I woke up and heard your message. I jumped out of bed so fast I fell over."
I can hear the regret in his voice. He gently places the pack on my face and leads me to the sofa. "Relax, please. I love you for wanting to be my knight in shining armor, but it's done. Apart from my cheek smarting a bit, I feel great. I got to tell him exactly what I thought, and that hurt him worse than his little bitch slap hurt me." He’s still angry and I feel terrible. It really was stupid to go alone. I cup his cheek with my free hand and smirk at him, "And I heard you fall from in here."
We sit there in silence for a few minutes and I can hear the cogs working overtime in his brain. He's planning something; I know it. He eventually heads to his study to make a call and I decide to have a relaxing bath.
That night, we decide to stay in and drink cocktails with several friends. It’s kind of an impromptu congratulations-and-farewell party for Artemisia. We drink, we sing and we cry because of course, the alcohol doesn't numb the fact that our friend is moving to the other side of the world.
****
I’m sitting at my desk deleting the seventh text message I’ve received from Derek today. He’s been sending them all week along with the flowers and gifts. They started out with him begging for forgiveness, to blaming me for the whole thing. I roll my eyes and throw my phone in my drawer. My boss, Noah Conners’ voice comes over the intercom. "Harbour can I have a word please?" I try to disguise my panic with an overly happy response. Normally I wouldn’t feel intimidated going into Mr. Conner’s office but after the crazy week I’ve had with stalker Derek, I’m a little nervous.
I walk into his office and sit in the chair facing his desk. I’m playing with my hands and I cross my legs. I shift nervously in my seat, my heart rate has increased and my face feels hot.
"Harbour, don’t look so nervous, I have good news." He smiles at me from behind his desk but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "Something has come up and we think we should let you go." I gasp and begin to feel lightheaded. I take a deep breath to calm myself before I ask him to explain.
"I'm sorry Mr. Conners. I don't understand? Are you firing me?" My voice is shaky. I'm freaking out. My sexy-as-sin boss is talking about restructure and other bullshit. I'm on the verge of tears.
"Firing you? Of course not! I’m sorry, I had a late night and I’m not explaining myself properly." He pauses and runs his hands over his face. "Let me try again. You're the best assistant I've had. That's why I'm sad to let you go." What?
"So you aren't firing me, but you're letting me go? Isn't that just a polite way of firing someone?" I'm really nervous now. My palms are sweaty and I'm tapping my foot. Just say it, man!
"No, Harbour. You’ve been selected for a transfer, and I guess, a promotion. The assistant role in the New York office has become available and they only want the best. Mr. Whitmore, the company’s CEO, has a lovely assistant, but she's hoping to retire next year so they've asked if I can recommend anyone from within the company for the position, and I think you'd be perfect. I will be sad to see you go, but you're needed in New York. What do you think?"
Holy cow. New York? What are the odds? The one place I've dreamed to visit more than anywhere, and they're offering me a permanent job there?
"Fuck, yes! Excuse me, I mean, yes, I'll take it. Thank you, Sir." I run around his desk and give him a very unprofessional hug. While gripping tightly onto his back, I can't help but feel his firm muscles underneath his tailored suit. This day just gets better and better. He clears his throat, "Yes, well, you're very welcome. I should warn you, though: Mr. Whitmore is a good man but he expects his staff to work hard. Just keep doing what you're doing and I'm sure you will be fine. I'll have Wendy in HR organize your paperwork and new contract. There are some legal things you’ll have to organize with her such as your Visa application. That will take some time but as long as you have a valid passport you can fly out on Friday."
Wow! I'll be in New York for New Year’s Eve! Holy hell. I can't contain my excitement.
I thank Mr. Conners several more times before leaving his office. When I reach my desk, I sit in my chair and let it spin me around as I giggle like a child. This is it. My new beginning has been handed to me on a silver platter, I just can't mess it up.
****
The week is a blur. Lo and Art have been around at Pierce's apartment for seven days straight savoring our last few days together. Art leaves on Thursday morning and I leave the following day.
Derek has been harassing me daily. I had a few days of peace after the break up and I thought he was done with me but it turns out, he wasn’t. I ignored his texts and phone calls so he turned up at my office, demanding I speak with him. When Noah had him escorted from the building, he continued to send texts and leave voicemails, but the intensity of them went up a notch. I didn’t report him; I’m leaving and he doesn’t know, so I feel safe. I’m so happy to be going to New York. I need to escape his crazy ass.
I spent Christmas night at my parents’ house. Their lounge room was completely covered with decorations. Pierce doesn’t put up Christmas decorations in his apartment so although it looked like a tinsel machine had malfunctioned in there; it was nice to be surrounded by it. It was comforting. My sister, Adelaide, her husband, Dean, and my niece, Charlee, came to stay the night too. I filled up on Mum’s amazing cooking as if I were a prisoner on death row eating my last meal. My dad informed me that my apartment was now empty and the keys had been returned. As I requested, he donated all the furniture. The rest of my belongings are boxed up and in their garage.
The hardest part was saying goodbye to my five-year-old niece, especially when she asked me, with tears rolling down her face, why I was leaving her. Thankfully, five year olds are easy to cheer up. All I had to do was promise to send down some Mickey Mouse paraphernalia and she was pretty much pushing me out the door. Everyone was sad to see me go, but they understand it's a huge opportunity for me.
****
By Friday morning, I'm all cried out. I'm mentally and physically exhausted from all the goodbyes.
Pierce parks the car at the airport and walks me into the terminal. When the doors slide open I see familiar faces with signs reading 'We'll miss you', 'Call your mum', 'I like Minnie Mouse more' and my favorite, 'Attitude (check) Dirty Mouth (check) You're already a New Yorker to me' held up by Lo. My entire family is here, my closest friends, and even Pierce's mum and dad.
After more goodbyes, hugging and crying, I make my way to the departure lounge. As the doors slide closed behind me with all the people I love on the other side, fear rips through me. As if reading my mind, Pierce sends me a text.
Keep walking sweetheart; you'll be fine. I'll miss you like crazy! Remember; keep your heels high and your head higher. Unless you're on your back ;)
Chin up, chest out, I excitedly walk towards my new life.
Chapter Four
After a grueling fifteen-hour flight to LA, and then another five-hour flight across the United States I finally made it to New York. I had hardly slept on the trip to L.A; instead, I spent every waking minute reading the New York travel guidebook Lo had got for me. I marked all the landmarks I wanted to see, as well as the areas “not recommended” for tourists. Well, I didn't really have to mark those as they had been highlighted for me. I'm sure my mum had something to do with that.
I was upgraded to business class on my flight to New York and after a few free gin and tonic’s, I slept for three hours.
As I step out of the arrival terminal I spot a well-dressed older man holding a sign with my name on it. Special treatment? I love New York already!
"Hi, I'm Harbour Manning." I give the man the best smile I can muster, considering my exhaustion.
"Ms. Manning, welcome to New York." His smi
le seems genuine as he reaches out for my luggage. "Follow me, and you may want to put that on." He points at the coat I have slung over my arm. I take his advice and we proceed out to the parked vehicles. As soon as I walk through the sliding doors, the cold air whips my face. A chill runs through my body and I instinctively wrap my arms around myself. Damn it’s cold. Cold like I've never experienced before.
I take in my surroundings—yellow cabs, people rushing to make their flights—it looks just like Melbourne, except for the snow. It’s breathtaking. I have never seen snow like this. Back home, we have to travel up to the ski fields to see it and even then, thanks to global warming, it’s mostly man made. These delicate white flakes cover the handrails and signs. To me, it looks beautiful; to a chauffeur, it’s probably a pain in the ass.
"What was your name, sir?" I feel rude that I didn't ask immediately.
"Anthony, ma'am." He stops at a black SUV and opens the back door for me.
"Anthony, do you mind if I ride up front? This is my first time in New York and I don't want to miss anything." I smile at him as he closes the back door and opens the front passenger-side door. Of course, I’m not familiar with the driver sitting on the left so I rush around the vehicle and open the driver side door. As soon as it’s open I realize my mistake and look over at Anthony who’s smirking at me. "You wanna drive too?" He asks while laughing, and rightly so. I make my way over to my side and he stands there shaking his head and smiling. I thank him and climb in.
We head out of the airport and Anthony shares some facts about New York and places I must see. We speak about the weather and what I should expect; cold and snowing, apparently. No shit. I don't mind the cold but in Australia, it rarely reaches negative degrees, but weather man/chauffeur/tour-guide Anthony tells me that the only negative about New York is the temperature, so I should embrace it. He also tells me the best place to buy affordable winter clothes. I'm glad, because it sounds like I'll be needing them. Layers and layers of them.
Harbour (Runaway Home #1) Page 2
