Harbour (Runaway Home #1)

by Penelope Louleas

  Harbour

  Book one of the Runaway Home series

  By

  Penelope Louleas

  Copyright.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are coincidental. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All products mentioned in this book belong to their rightful owners.

  I do not claim any of these products to be my own.

  Copyright © 2014 Penelope Louleas

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Dedication

  My husband, Antony, for being my number one fan and supporter.

  My daughter, Athena. Mummy wrote a book so you can always remember, no matter how many people tell you that you can't do something, you can do anything and be anyone you want.

  This is for you both. I love you.

  Chapter One

  "Please just meet me at your apartment, Har." My best friend Melody, or Lo, as I call her, was more persistent than usual. And whiny.

  "Why? I only have an hour for lunch; by the time I get there I'll only have fifteen minutes before I have to head back to the office. The Christmas shoppers are out in force, so the trams will be packed. Plus, it's really hot out there. Do you know what a tram full of sweaty shoppers smells like?" Now I am starting to whine. She is pissing me off. She's asked me every day this week to meet her there on my lunch break and I can't understand why she doesn't just want to meet at our usual cafe.

  "Seriously, Har, please. Just this once?"

  Something was up. My heart races as I imagine exactly what she wants me to see. I ignore all the signs, but my friends liked to point them out. My boyfriend is a douchebag and they are convinced he is having an affair. I didn't think he was smart enough to have one and keep me from finding out but then again, I'm busy being the responsible one, working and paying the rent while he sits around in his underwear, scratching his ass with his wasted IT degree.

  "Okay, fine. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." I slam the phone down, thankful that my boss isn't in hearing distance. I collect my purse, slip my shoes back on from under my desk and make my way to our one bedroom apartment in the Docklands. Thankfully, it’s located just outside Melbourne's CBD, so it isn't too far to travel.

  As I head to the tram stop, I think about what I will do after this. I have a sick feeling about what I'm going to find and I’m already mentally preparing myself. Deep down, I know Derek is unfaithful, but unfortunately I’m a sucker for his charm. He's also a brilliant liar. He would've made a fantastic lawyer; instead, he wastes his very few talents and enjoys being a 'house husband'. But he isn't my husband, and he definitely does not clean the apartment or prepare dinner.

  Honestly, he's just a really shit roommate who I have sex with occasionally. Occasionally being once a week if "I'm lucky". Jesus, he even sucks at that. He is my first and only sexual partner, so I don't have anything to compare him to, but from what I've heard and read he's a selfish lover. Add to that the fact that I have to make myself come almost every time we have sex—not in a sexy "make yourself come, I wanna watch" way either. More like he finishes, rolls over, falls asleep, and I'm so frustrated that I have to finish myself off.

  That isn't even the worst part of our relationship.

  There have been a few times where he's been mentally abusive and sometimes even physically. Jesus, now that I think about it, I feel like an idiot for staying with him for four years. Four boring, mundane years.

  I guess I'm with him because I'm too comfortable, and too scared of what comes next. I've never had a boyfriend other than him, so I've never been certain how to end it. Do you sit them down and have “the talk”? Do you pack your things and just leave while they’re asleep in the middle of the night? That would be my only option because he never leaves the apartment. I swear that couch has his ass groove in it, just like Homer Simpson's.

  My only excuse would be that when I met him, my self-esteem was terribly low. I was the overly curvy girl whose best friends were sexy and confident. I was the “fat friend”. One day, completely unexpectedly, a gorgeous guy with light-blonde hair and hazel eyes showed interest in me and I was sunk instantly. I was cooking for him, cleaning his disgusting apartment and driving his drunken ass home from parties I wasn't invited to. There were a lot of those. I knew he was unfaithful even back in college, but I ignored it. He was Derek Knight: gorgeous, rich, and he loved me. I craved the attention he showed me, no matter how little it was.

  Even now that I've lost my curves, I still see the fat girl he chose. Yes, he belittles me, hurts me and makes me feel like I could never do better, but I stay. Mainly because he has completely destroyed any positive self-esteem I once had. Now, I see myself as he does. In his eyes, I'm not the successful personal assistant to the Operations Manager of the Melbourne division of Whitmore Ltd. I'm not the sexy chick with the now “hot body”. I'm just desperate Harbour Manning who lets her boyfriend control her life.

  I step off the tram and walk up to our building. I can see Lo in the distance, pacing like a caged animal. Her obvious nervousness has me on edge. She knows what I’m walking into; unfortunately, she knows I need to see this. It's the only way I will finally accept that they are all right about him. As I approach her she stops pacing, and gives me a sympathetic look.

  "You've guessed why I called you here." It isn't a question; my slumped shoulders and dragging feet might be a clue to her that I know exactly what I'm about to witness.

  "Let's get this over with." I respond as she takes my hand and we walk to the lift. She doesn't let go until we reach my apartment door.

  "You can do this, Har; you need to do this. We can't sit back and watch you throw your life away for this loser."

  I sigh heavily and open the door. Instantly, I can hear that Lo, and everyone else, is right. My douchebag boyfriend is fucking someone. In my bed. While I work all day to pay for the rent of the apartment in which my bed is situated.

  "Motherfucker," I growl and make my way to the bedroom.

  I swing the door open and take a deep breath. I watch as my "boyfriend" fucks this woman from behind, their backs to me. I wait for them to notice me but then remember Derek is a two-minute man so I decide to interrupt their lovemaking instead.

  "What a lovely surprise!" I announce my ar
rival loud enough for them to hear me over what I assume, from experience, is a fake orgasm. Derek withdraws and throws the poor woman off the bed. She screams out in pain as her head hits my mirrored side table.

  "Harbour, it's a one-time thing, I swear." I can hear the panic in his voice.

  "Wow, Derek, and here I was thinking you were a terrific liar." The woman scrambles to find her clothes, which are haphazardly tossed around the room. I take a moment to look at her. She’s my opposite. She has a short blonde bob hairstyle, a cute face and a long, fit body. She looks to be about thirty years old.

  "Who are you?" she asks with genuine curiosity.

  "Who the fuck is she? She's his goddamn girlfriend of four years, you whore!" Lo yells at the woman but I put my hand up to silence her. This poor bitch has no idea I even exist. Her head turns to Derek and she gives him an evil glare, "Your girlfriend? You fucking asshole! Three months we've been together, and you never thought I should know you have a girlfriend?" Shit. Three months? God, I'm such an idiot. I bend over, grab the woman's top and pass it to her. She looks sad and remorseful as she takes her top from my hands slowly, never making eye contact. Her shoulders are slumped and her head is bowed.

  "I'm so sorry. He told me he worked nights so we could only meet during the day. I swear, I had no idea the scumbag was in a relationship. He told me he lived with his sister." I look around the room and realize all the pictures of us are missing. "You thought he shared a bed with his sister? This is a one bedroom apartment. " I ask her because I’m genuinely curious. She can’t really be that stupid...Can she? "He’s a fantastic liar, or I’m just gullible, either way, I’m sorry." She finishes dressing but doesn’t leave. He's charmed this poor woman, too.

  I look over at Derek who is now sitting on the edge of the bed with the sheet draped over his legs covering his tiny, flaccid manhood. He has his head in his hands and is acting as if he is devastated.

  "I think you should both leave. " I have nothing further to say. I’m completely done with him.

  "I'm not leaving until we talk about this, Harbour. It was a mistake. Kerry means nothing to me." I hear Kerry sob and I know the feeling isn't mutual. This woman has fallen for him. I look over and can’t help but feel sorry for her. She's standing there with tears racing down her cheeks. I hear her mutter "you asshole" as she leaves the room.

  This is it. Four years of taking his crap, I’m done. I look over at Lo and she nods knowingly. I hold my head high and stare him down as best as I can. "Get your shit and get out of my apartment, now. You have five minutes or I'm calling for back up." My heart is racing. That felt good, really good.

  "Don't do this, Harbour, please. I love you. You know that." He really should've been an actor. This performance is Oscar-worthy.

  "Derek, I won't ask you again. Pack a bag and get out. I'll have the rest of your things sent over to your parents’ house." I don't wait for a reply, I just turn on my heels and walk out to the kitchen to call my boss and let him know I won't be back for the rest of the day. It’s Friday, and he isn't bothered. By the time I end the call, Derek is in the lounge room with his duffel bag over his shoulder.

  "Harbour, I . . ."

  "Out, Derek! Goodbye, good riddance, have a great fucking life." I watch as he exits my apartment, slamming the door behind him. .

  I turn to Lo and she’s leaning against the counter with her arms folded.

  "Say it, Lo." She sighs heavily.

  "Say what?"

  "Say I told you so."

  She shakes her head. "No. I will say I'm fucking proud of you, though. You knew he was in here with someone else and you faced it head on. I can't say I'm not happy to see him leave, though." She smirks at me and I smile back.

  "Me too, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Thank you for making me come here." I hug her and let out a deep, cleansing breath.

  "Come on, let's call Art and go get drunk with our Mexican friend Senior Cuervo."

  That sounds perfect.

  Chapter Two

  I wake up feeling fresh and happy. I love tequila. I can drink it all night and as long as I don’t mix it with anything, I wake up hangover-free.

  My besties don’t look so crash hot. Melody and Artemisia are spooning next to me on Pierce's king-size bed, snoring softly. I look around for Pierce but he's not here. Typical. He probably did the gentlemanly thing, got us home safe and then snuck back out to his secret boyfriend’s house. Although he's my best friend, he won’t kiss and tell with this guy. It’s driving us crazy trying to work out who the sexy closet-gay is.

  There are only two things so far that we have guessed correctly: Number one, he’s a successful businessman who’s clearly not ready to accept the fact that he’s homosexual, and two, he's hot. I don't even have to see him to know this because Pierce is the epitome of sexy. It's like God spent a bit of extra time molding him perfectly, gave him this insanely sexy and charismatic personality, a great sense of humor, intelligence and then thought, I've made the perfect man. Women will fall all over themselves to be with him, so ha ha, I'm going to make him attracted to men. Suck it, ladies! Okay, maybe God doesn't say "suck it," but that’s what it felt like when I met him in college.

  I'll never forget his first words to me. It was the first week of school and the girls convinced me to dress up and go dancing. I was at the bar ordering my fourth shot of cheap tequila when the entrance door swung open and Pierce strolled in. The outside lights made him look angelic with a soft glow surrounding his six-foot-two stature. He looked around the bar and I could see all the women swooning, hoping to catch his eye. He locked eyes with me, and with a little swagger in his walk, came and sat by my side. I was standing, and thanks to my four-inch heels, we were now the same height. He leaned towards my ear and I held my breath, waiting for this sexy Adonis to speak.

  "I like cock." he whispered. I’d released my breath and laughed hysterically, so much so that people were staring. I’d finally stopped because my stomach was hurting.

  "Me too." I replied, even though I was completely inexperienced with them.

  We’d sat there for the next two hours getting to know one another, drinking, and making fun of the females desperately vying for his attention. I found out that night that he was studying Law and came from a wealthy family.

  Pierce believes the main reason his family is so accepting about him being gay is because he has four constantly-reproducing sisters and an older brother whose wife has been pretty much pregnant continuously since they married four years ago. His father, a well-known attorney, told him, "As long as the only time you're taking it up the ass is outside of the courtroom, I don't give a shit." That had made me laugh until I thought I'd pass out. Mr. Winslow has a wicked sense of humor.

  That was five years ago. We've been best friends ever since. And now, we're going to be roommates. Pierce insisted last night that I move in with him. I agreed, even though I'd love to live alone. The chance at saving some money to travel someday was too tempting.

  I have a quick shower and throw on a pair of Pierce's sweats and a T-shirt, then head to his ultra-modern kitchen to make a greasy breakfast for the girls. That's the rule around here. The one who is least hung-over makes breakfast for everyone else. In other words, I make breakfast every time. And I'm the best cook.

  I finish cooking breakfast and head to the bedroom to wake the sleeping beauties. They slowly make their way to the kitchen.

  "Okay, I love this apartment at night, but when I'm hung-over those damn windows kill me!" Lo drawls. I hand her a pair of sunglasses and she leaps for them like a fat kid to cake. The floor-to-ceiling windows have breathtaking views of Melbourne, but they also let in the afternoon sun. To a sober person, its heaven; to a hung-over, light-sensitive whiner, they're hell.

  We eat breakfast in silence, except for the occasional, pitiful moans from Art and Lo. Once the table is cleared, we lounge on the sofa; the girls are feeling much better.

  Lo finally mentions Pierce's
absence. "I bet he's with Sexy Closet guy. I really think we should dress in black and follow him one night. I'm dying to know who he is!"

  I giggle at her suggestion. "We promised we wouldn't. And anyway, don't you think three women dressed in black, sneaking around the city will draw attention?" We all laugh but agree that we want to know. "Maybe he'll tell us, one day."

  "Tell you what? You ladies wouldn't happen to be talking about my sexy, well-endowed lover, would you?" Pierce arrives just in time. He comes over and kisses us all on the forehead and sits opposite me on a high-back armchair.

  "Stop trying to guess, girls. I don't kiss and tell." He smirks and changes the subject. "Harbour, have you started thinking about when you want to collect your things?"

  "Smooth change of subject there, Pierce." I smirk at him this time before my serious face slides into place. "I want to get out A.S.A.P. I'll go by today and collect some things, but I can't sleep in that bed. I'm going to call my dad and if Dickface doesn't want to keep any of the furniture, I'll ask Dad to donate it to charity. I need a clean break." I pause for a moment and look out to the Melbourne skyline. I smile because for the first time in four years, I feel free. "Thank you for letting me stay here until I work something out."

  Pierce unfolds himself from the armchair and walks over to me. He kneels in front of me and takes my face between his hands. "Leave it all to me, sweetheart. I'll get rid of whatever you don't want; we’ll just go get the stuff you need. And I don't want to hear about me 'letting you stay here'. I'd do anything for you—even if it means not having sex with my mystery man in my apartment." He winks, kisses my forehead and stands. "Well, ladies, I’m thoroughly fucked so I'm going to sleep for a while. You know where everything is." He leaves the three of us in the lounge room, shaking our heads at his blatant honesty.

  "God, I'm jealous. Wish I was thoroughly fucked." Lo and I stare open-mouthed at Art. Art doesn't say fuck. In fact, Art doesn't swear at all.

  "Holy fuck, Art cussed! I don't believe it," Lo shrieks and points in shock like she's found a huge spider.