by Lesley Jones
“I’m not asking TDH to donate sperm, Ash.”
“Why? He’s big and strong, and handsome. He’s TDH, for fuck’s sake, and I like the thought of having a bit of him inside me.”
“Ash, seriously, you are just so wrong sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know, but being wrong always feels so right to me.” We’re both silent for a few seconds. “This is so good, George, hearing you like this; sounding happy, making plans. You’ve really cheered me up. I can’t wait to see Marley’s face when you get home.”
My heart warms at her words. I wish I could forget this club opening and jump on a plane right now and be home with all my family, but then that would mean being in England on December first and I didn’t want that. I wanted to be up in the sky, flying across time zones where no one can find me for the next couple of days.
Ash and I end our call and I decide to try to get an hour of sleep before going out tonight. However, I notice I’ve received a text from Jodie while I was talking to Ash. She’s cancelling on me tonight, saying she has too much on, but she’ll see me when we get there tomorrow night.
I order a bottle of champagne and a burger from room service, text Jackson and tell him I won’t be meeting them for drinks. Instead, I order Blow from the hotel’s film channel. I settle in for the night with my burger, my bubbles and Johnny Depp.
I really can’t remember the last time I got dressed up for a night out, and even though I don’t plan on staying at the club for too long, I want to make an effort and decide on being a complete diva. I make a few phone calls and by five o’clock, I have Australia’s top makeup artist, an assistant and a hairdresser in my room getting Brooke and me ready for tonight. While the team gets to work on making us beautiful, Brooke and I drink champagne. I took her shopping this morning and bought her new shoes and an outfit for tonight, and I’ve ordered a limo to take us to the club later, but she doesn’t know that yet. I’ve lived in her home for the past couple of months; it’s the very least I can do to thank her.
Jackson has no idea yet, but I’ve purchased a property in Byron and arranged funding so he can set himself up as a counsellor. He’s helped me so much; it just comes to him naturally, and I want him to be able to help other people. I know it’s what he wants to do, but he needs his income from the surf school and the boat charters to be able to live. So I had my lawyers arrange things so he will also draw a wage from the counselling practice, pay for the rest of the qualifications he needs, and pay for Brooke to do some courses, too. I don’t want them to think I’m being flash with my money, but at the end of the day, I have money, more money than I will ever be able to spend in my life time, and I want to do some good with it. Australia has been good to me, and I want to be able to give something back.
Brooke’s face is a picture as she realises the limo that pulls up outside the hotel is for us, and Jackson tells her to quieten down at least three times before we even step inside. It reminds me of arriving in Spain many years ago and getting into a limo with Sean, Lennon and Jimmie, right before it all went wrong. I accept the champagne Jax passes and decide not to focus on anything sad tonight. Despite the date, despite the anniversary, I’m going to smile. I refuse to curl up in a ball and sob today. I’m going to party like the rock star my husband was and just hang on to all the good times, the amazing things we experienced together and the beautiful love we were lucky to share. Well, that’s what Jimmie, my mum, my dad and Bailey had all basically told me I had to do during their calls at various times during today, but in all honesty, I was barely hanging on.
The driver opens the door of the car and Jackson steps out first; the flash from the photographer’s cameras lights up the night, and I suddenly don’t want to get out. I’ve talked this over and over with Jax, and I know I shouldn’t care, but I do, and I know that by me coming out tonight, of all nights, the press are going to rip me to shreds. I sit completely still. I don’t want to cry. I want to throw up and I want to run, but I know I can’t just keep running. Brooke squeezes my hand as she sits silently next to me. Jax bends down and puts his head back inside, and he holds his hand out to me.
“Come on, Georgia. We’ve got this. They’ve no idea who’s in here, and the last person they’re expecting is you. And if they do work out it’s you, fuck ‘em; you can’t keep hiding away like this. C’mon, let’s go.” I reach out for his hand. I keep my head well down and buried in Jackson’s chest as Brooke covers me from the other side, and we make it inside the club to whispers of, “Who is that?” “No idea.” “It’s no one famous, I don’t think.”
Brooke and I head straight into the first lot of bathrooms and straighten out our ruffled hair. There’re a few people in there and when they start to whisper, nudge and stare, I realise I should have waited and gone to the bathrooms up in the VIP area. My heart is pounding as I grab Brooke’s hand while she’s still putting on her lipstick.
“Let’s use the bathrooms upstairs.” She doesn’t say anything and just follows behind me.
There’s a lift dedicated to delivering guests to the top floor, and we have to give our names before we can get in. A few heads turn as I give mine, and I spend the next five minutes staring at my shoes as we wait for and then ride in the glass capsule.
Once up on the roof, we are greeted by waiters and waitresses; beer, wine, champagne and vodka shots are being offered. I take a flute of champagne and a vodka shot, I throw back the vodka and take another before the waiter is out of reach. We find a spot to stand and people watch quietly for a few minutes while we all let the alcohol calm us down.
“Fuck knows how you deal with that all the time, George. I’d end up punching someone,” Jax eventually says.
“I know; I’m still shaking.” Brooke holds up her shaking hand as to prove her point.
“I don’t deal with it. That’s why I came here, to get away from all that shit.”
“But you’ve had to deal with it most of your life,” Jax says.
“Yeah, and to think I used to be jealous of you. Fuck, that’s just madness! They were all pushing and shoving and they didn’t even know who you were.” I don’t want to tell them that what happened outside was nothing compared to some of the situations I’d been in; the worst was in Japan. The Carnage fans and the press were just insane and broke through the security barriers that had been set up. Sean and I were separated; I tried to get out of the way, but I was pushed all over the place and knocked to the ground. I remember Milo appearing from nowhere, then Marley, both of them holding people back so I didn’t get trampled on. Then Sean appeared and lifted me off the floor, and the three of them surrounded me as they pushed through the crowd. Sean and Marley had gone absolutely ballistic at the organisers and threatened to pull out of the live appearance if security wasn’t stepped up before they went on stage.
“Bet that was nothing. Bet you have better stories than that to tell, eh, George?” I shake my head at the memories.
“You have no idea, Jax. Seriously, anywhere I went with Sean or the band, the fans and the press would just go crazy; some of them are certifiable. I’ve seen fans climb through windows to get to them and the press hanging off roofs and balconies trying to get a shot.” I’m quiet for a few seconds; I forget sometimes the crazy, mad life that I’ve lived. Brooke brings me back into the now as she squeals; she’s recognised someone, but I’ve no idea who they are. An Australian-rules footballer apparently. I don’t even know what that is, so I take her word for it.
We’re on our second round of drinks and our third shot of vodka. I’m feeling considerably more relaxed now that there’re no photographers in sight; no one has approached me, and I don’t seem to be drawing anyone’s attention. Jackson told me that nobody here will probably know who I am, and if they do, they will probably just think I’m someone who just happens to look like me. They will never actually expect the real me to be here. I laugh at the thought of lying and just making out I’m someone else.
I see Jodie approaching us through
the crowd; she’s looking right at me until I look at her then she looks at her brother and sister instead. I know it’s deliberate. She gives each of us a kiss and we talk about how the night’s going. It’s only nine-thirty and the place is already almost packed to capacity.
The dance floor is filling up, and Jackson and Brooke go off to dance. I turn straight to Jodie, saying, “We need to talk.” She raises her eyebrows as she turns and looks at me.
“How could you? Of all the people in Byron, in Australia. You can have your pick, Georgia, anyone you want and you went after Roman.” Well, fuck this.
“Hang on a minute. I never went after anyone, and I had no idea you and Roman were involved until Monday; not one person, including him and your family, told me anything.” I can’t believe I’m getting the blame for this. A waitress goes by and I grab two shots off the tray; I drink them both as Jodie watches me.
“And then what, what did you do Monday when you found out?” What’s she getting at?
“I bollocked him. I told him he was out of order; what d’ya expect me to do?”
“Brooke said you were in bed with him most of Monday, after you had found out.” That little cow! My mouth drops open, and I narrow my eyes at Brooke on the dance floor, now wrapped around the footballer she had her eye on earlier. Jax is all over someone I actually recognise. She’s a model from somewhere or other; she’s tall and gorgeous and currently has her tongue down Jackson’s throat, and he seems to be loving every minute of it. I turn back to Jodie, feeling a little betrayed by Brooke.
“We were on my bed, not in it. Nothing went on between Roman and I once I found out he had been involved with you. And nothing would have gone on ever if someone had just let me know about it. I’m sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t realise he was important to you. Even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten involved knowing he was your ex.” She doesn’t say anything, just stares out at the dance floor.
“I loved him, and I got pregnant. He had already made plans to go to England, so I let him go and then got rid of the baby. He has no idea.” My head spins, a combination of her words, champagne and vodka.
“Fuck, Jode; I’m so sorry. I really had no idea.” She shrugs and lets out a long breath. Another waiter passes by and I grab us both a shot; we clink our glasses together and knock back the drinks.
“So I hear you have a new man; what’s he like?” She shakes her head.
“A complete wanker. That was all over before it ever even got going. He took me out a couple of times, and that was it. I thought it was gonna go somewhere, but he told me today that he’s just found out his ex-girlfriend is pregnant with his baby, and he needs to focus on that right now. Apparently, she’s got a few mental health issues, and he needs to be there for her. He’s not getting back with her, but he needs to be on hand for the baby.”
“Aww, Jode, that sucks balls. He actually sounds like a decent bloke; that must’ve been a tough call for him.” She raises her eyebrows.
“Yeah, he is; hot as fucking sin, too, but oh, well. Obviously wasn’t meant to be, and I’m off to Singapore for work in January anyway.” Her mobile phone she’s had gripped in her hand goes off and she answers. Listening carefully to whatever’s being said, she replies with, “No worries, I’ll be down there in five.” She looks across at me. “I’ve gotta go. Enjoy the rest of your night.” She kisses my cheek and walks away, and I just know she’s still pissed off with me.
I wander over to the alfresco area and look out at the lights of Sydney. Jackson appears at my side, pulls me in for a cuddle and passes me a glass of champagne.
“I have a flight to catch tomorrow morning, and I’m gonna be a mess.”
“Stop whinging. It’s your last night here. You’ll be all tucked up in first class anyway, no doubt, so you can sleep off your hangover.” I suddenly get goose bumps up my spine as I sniff Jackson’s neck.
“Have you changed your aftershave?” He frowns as he looks down at me.
“No, why?”
“I thought I could smell Givenchy.” That fucking Cameron King is in my head again; I take a sip of my drink.
“That’d be me, Kitten. The Givenchy, I mean.”
My stomach hits the floor, catapults back through my body, bounces off my rib cage, travels up to my throat and plummets back down to my toes before settling somewhere around my pelvis. I actually feel myself sway, so I close my eyes and open them twice before I turn around and look behind me. He’s wearing a grey suit, a grey tie and a white shirt. He’s here, right here, in Australia, in this club. He’s right here, standing in front of me, just as tall, dark and handsome as ever, only with a few more flecks of grey in the stubble around his jaw.
“Fuck, Tiger, what are you doing here?”
“Kitten, really? That’s so not ladylike.”
“We gonna go there? We really gonna fuckin’ go there, Tiger?” He gives a little headshake and looks down at the ground. His eyes hit my shoes and travel up my body, lingering over my chest. He licks his lips as his eyes meet mine, and this little high-pitched sound, sort of like “uhh,” escapes from somewhere inside me. Our eyes lock, and we both just stare silently for a long moment. He reaches out and brushes his fingertips gently over my cheek
“You look stunning, Kitten.”
Without thinking, I reply, “You look totally fuckable, Tiger.” He closes his eyes and drops his hand to his side. His eyes suddenly open and move to land on Jackson, who’s shifting beside me. He puts his hand out.
“Cameron King. I’m an old friend of Georgia’s.”
“Jackson Bell, and I know exactly who you are.” I turn and look at Jax with a frown; why so hostile, I wonder.
“Cam, this is my cousin Jackson who I’ve been staying with.” I watch his reaction; his shoulders relax slightly and his frown lessens. His eyes move back to mine.
“Can we talk, Georgia, please?”
I nod. “Of course.” I look around and spot some seats over by a water feature.
Cam follows my gaze, looks back between Jax and myself, and says, “I’ll meet you over there. Nice to meet you, Jackson.” Jax says nothing.
“What’s your problem?” I hiss at him.
“He’s here for you. He’s come all this way for you, George. You haven’t seen him for a couple of years, you speak to him on the phone last weekend, and suddenly he’s here?” Okay, so that’s probably true, but I don’t see why that’s a problem. Should I?
“And your point is?”
“And my point is, he’s come for a reason, and he’s not leaving here without what he came for. Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.” I lean in and kiss Jax on the cheek.
“This is Cam. I trust him with my life; he would never hurt me.” Shoot other people, yeah, but he would never hurt me; that I’m sure of. Jax nods.
“As long as you’re sure, but if you leave, let me know. I’m gonna go and find my sisters.” I nod and watch him walk away before I turn and head towards Cam. He stands as I approach and reaches out for my hand.
“Let’s get out of here. I feel like we’re being watched.”
“We probably are, but there’s loads of paps out the front. How am I gonna get past them?” He pulls out his phone and makes a call, giving directions to whoever’s on the other end to go around to a back set of doors. He grabs my hand and leads me through the club. Spillers Groove Jet is playing, and I giggle as I start singing “If This Ain’t Love” to myself. Why I’m finding this song amusing, I have no idea.
He leads me through a set of emergency exit doors after swiping some sort of card through a gadget on the wall to get them to open. We then get in a goods lift, along with three bar staff. We remain silent the whole time, then the doors to the elevator open and we are in a service area. He leads me to another set of doors and we are outside, a dark car waiting with the engine running. The driver jumps out and has the doors open before we reach it; we both slide into the back seat.
“Mine or yours?”
I look up at him. “Excuse me?”
His eyes meet mine. “Hotel, Kitten, we going to mine or yours?”
I stare at our joined hands for a moment. My whole body tingling and covered in goose bumps.
“We’re going to talk. Just to talk, Kitten.”
I nod. “Mine, please, I’m leaving early in the morning.”
“Where?”
“Australia.”
“Where are you staying, not where are you leaving. Fuck, Kitten, how much have you had to drink?”
I giggle at my mistake. “A lot, actually.” I’d assumed the last ten minutes my head was spinning because of Cam’s presence, but I think the vodka shots also had something to do with it. He shakes his head as I keep my eyes on him. “Am I frustrating you?”
He frowns as he looks at me. “What makes you ask that?”
I smile at the memory. “I asked you once why you are always shaking your head at me, and you told me it was because I frustrate you.” He brushes his thumb over my knuckles, then brings my hand up and kisses the back of it.
“I told you a lot of things back then.”
“You did.” I hear him let out a long breath, and he leans back into the seat of the car and looks over my face.
“And I meant every word. Now, where are you staying?” He meant every word? He told me he loved me back then; I wonder if he still does. I wonder if I should tell him about the conclusions I have come to regarding my feelings for him. My eyes feel heavy, my head woozy, and for some reason, that horrible lump is back in my throat. “Georgia, hotel? What’s the fucking name of the hotel you’re staying at?”
“The Pitt on Marriorriott… The street, The Marriott.” I know what I mean; I just don’t seem to be able to make any sense.
“The Marriott on Pitt Street?” he asks. I nod. “You’re fucking wasted; you need some water. Did you eat dinner?” I shake my head. “You’re skin and bone, Georgia; we need to fatten you up. Sober you up and fatten you up.” All these years, and it’s like nothing’s changed. Cam has, for some reason, always made me feel safe and tears sting my eyes; the alcohol is obviously making me feel emotional. “What’s wrong, Kitten; what you thinking?” He smiles, ever so slightly. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”