The Hawks_A Novel

by SD Hendrickson

  My temper flared with my lack of patience today. I needed to get away from seeing her face for a few minutes. I slipped behind the lilac bush, only to find two other ladies with the same idea. They huddled together with orange sparkling flutes in their hands—just out of view from the tables and Mrs. Hawthorn.

  “Let’s just go quickly to our seats. Maybe she won’t notice.”

  The lady in the tiny green hat gasped. “Are you insane? We can’t just walk out there.”

  “It’s not like she doesn’t see our empty chairs. And she knows exactly who isn’t here. It’s the whole point of those ridiculous name cards,” the lady in the pink hat whispered. She had feathers stacked on top, making her appear six inches taller than her short stature.

  “She’ll call us out. Like that time Marilyn Summers came in late after her granddaughter’s ballet recital. Delsey stopped her speech and reprimanded Marilyn in front of everyone.”

  Feather Lady downed the rest of her mimosa. She eyed the tray, but it wasn’t within reach without being seen from the podium. “I’d like to see her be uncomfortable for a change. Call her out. But no one has the guts to do it.”

  “I think the only thing that would make her squirm is a gun waved around in her face.” Tiny Hat rolled her eyes.

  “I wouldn’t mind doing that.” Feather Lady smirked and her grin grew slightly wicked. “Just to see her reaction. Make the queen doubt her power for once. Maybe I could do it. I carry one in my purse you know.”

  They both covered their mouths to stifle the laughter as my eyes drifted to the cream-colored clutch she held in her other hand. How did the woman have a gun stuffed in that thing?

  Tiny Hat finally whispered, “She would just order you to sit down and make some remark about being tacky and then secretly blacklist you from every function for the next year.”

  “So very true.” Feather Lady groaned. “And not worth it.”

  Mrs. Hawthorn continued her speech, raving about the botanical society and pointing out the plants around the patio. She explained the donation to the nursing home and everyone gave a polite clap.

  “I’m surprised one of the children hasn’t done it,” Feather Lady remarked.

  Tiny Hat seemed confused. “Done what?”

  “Taken her out of the equation. She’s a tyrant to all of them. The daughter won’t even let Delsey see the grandkids anymore. And the youngest. Poor thing. He left the country to get away from her.”

  “What a shame. He was always so handsome.” She shook her head, making the tiny green hat move slightly.

  “And you know what they say about Ted,” Pink Feathers continued. “A few years ago at the library dedication, Laura Manchester had the nerve to ask Delsey why her son never brought dates to the parties.”

  “No! You’re serious? I wasn’t there. What happened?”

  The woman leaned in closer. “Well, it was a jaw-dropping spectacle. Delsey gave Laura a smug grin and said about ten decibels louder than necessary, ‘You should be more concerned about why your husband took the nanny to Paris without the children.’”

  Tiny Hat gasped. “She didn’t.”

  “You should have seen her face. Pale as a sheet. But Laura knew better. Delsey has never shied away from using public humiliation as a weapon.”

  “Very true. That woman can twist blame faster than a politician. Thank heavens she never held office. Can you imagine?”

  They both laughed.

  I stifled my own giggle.

  Green hat could barely control herself now. “Senator Delsey Hawthorn . . . Mayor Delsey Hawthorn . . . or heaven forbid, Governor Delsey Hawthorn. She’d feed the poor but make them wear jumpsuits like prisoners so they could easily be identified from the rest of us. And then come up with some elegant reasoning behind the whole thing.”

  The ladies dissolved into another fit of laughter while the attendees clapped again on the other side of the bushes. I knew the speech was coming to a close. I walked over to my companions, finally revealing myself. The women had failed to notice me next to the bushes and would die if they knew I’d overheard their secrets.

  “It’s almost over,” I whispered. “I think everyone will stand in a moment and you can slide in without being seen.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Tiny Hat smiled while her eyes betrayed her confusion. I’m sure my appearance seemed rather bizarre compared to her elegant attire. I silently cursed Mrs. Hawthorn once again.

  The attendees stood as she exited the podium. The green hat and the pink puffed feathers disappeared onto the patio with the rest of the ladies. I remained at my post, waiting in anticipation for her to summon me for a task or bark an order.

  I waited under the blinding sun for the next two hours until everyone stepped back through the trellis and drove away in their fancy cars.

  Present Day

  BLUE TAPPED DELSEY HAWTHORN ON the chest one more time as a devilish grin possessed his lips. “I know you must be angry right now. That plastic digging into your old nasty skin, knowing you have lost complete control of this place. Must be pretty damn hard. So I’m going to make this easy for you.”

  He motioned to the man in the gray mask. “Get the little one.”

  The burly man left his post in front of me and went to the end of the row. His gloved hand looped in the armpit of the waitress, pulling her from the floor. The red sequins on her flapper girl dress sparkled under the crystal lights of the chandeliers.

  We made eye contact. The terror in Scarlett’s face made chills go up my spine. She was easy to handle. That’s why Blue picked her. Small body. Young. Scared shitless. She would be easy to drag around and would do whatever he asked of her.

  The sick bastard. My stomach twisted into knots, and I heard the low hum of the cook’s voice as she started on another hymn. The zip ties intensified the claustrophobia in my lungs. I tugged at my wrists, trying to wiggle out of the tight plastic. But I only made deep red marks on my skin.

  “Now, I know there was some fancy party here tonight. I sat right outside, watching all those cars come into this place. You gathered up a shit ton of money from your rich bitch friends. And now you plan to give it away. But only to those you think deserve it. All that cash will never touch the pockets of those who really need it.”

  “You know absolutely nothing about my business.” Mrs. Hawthorn spoke with an even tone.

  “See, that’s the thing. I know all about you. Fancy shit like this makes you feel better. Makes you pat yourself on the back.” Blue glared, pointing his gun out toward the ballroom. “Makes you sleep like a fuckin’ baby at night. But it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to those who bust their asses for people like you.”

  The gun went off. A bullet hit the roulette game table. Splinters of wood flew up in the air. He fired again, aiming at the blackjack table across the room.

  Scarlett squealed, huddling closer to the man who held her captive. She was stuck between hell and fury. And I guess the waitress chose the first rather than the man spewing random bullets.

  “When I heard about this party, I thought . . .” His tongue wetted his lower lip. “Wow. That is some fucked-up shit. But that’s how you rich people like it. You like to get dressed up in expensive clothes. You like to spend a shit ton of money just to convince a bunch of stuck-up pricks to be decent human beings!”

  He grinned, waving his gun around wildly as he put on this taunting performance for Mrs. Hawthorn. I braced for another random bullet to go flying out into the room. But the man stopped abruptly, his eyes scanning down the row of hostages.

  “So that’s why we’re here. To make sure all of those donations from tonight go to someplace real special. So just tell me where you got it locked up. My friend over there will take the pretty girl as insurance to get it. And this shit will all be over.”

  Mrs. Hawthorn faltered for a moment. Her eyes twitched. And I knew why. This was bad. I wondered how many others sitting against the wall just connected the dots.

  �
�I guess you think threatening us makes you a decent human being?” Mrs. Hawthorn continued, holding her composure like a player in a high-stakes poker game. But I knew she was bluffing this time.

  “Lady, I never said I was decent. Now tell me where the money is.”

  Late Summer

  THE SUN HUNG LOW IN the sky, casting a fiery glow as I pulled into the restaurant parking lot alone in my car, but not for long. Javier would join me soon for our first date. I sat in the worn passenger’s seat of my Volkswagen, fingers gripping the steering wheel, then releasing only to tighten around the plastic again.

  The date number, whether first or third or seventh, has always contained different expectations for each person. Financial. Emotional. Physical. Who pays? Does this person like me? Do they expect sex or just a kiss tonight?

  By some people’s standards, I’d sold myself cheap before Javier had ever asked me to dinner. We’d met. We’d already had sex. And I’d never expected much of anything else from him. Sure, my mind often wandered down the dangerous road of something more—the detrimental bomb to a casual fling.

  But I truly had been okay with our previous arrangement. We sneaked around beneath the nose of his grandmother. And I knew he would eventually leave. Besides, I didn’t have time to actually meet someone else while working for Delsey Hawthorn. She consumed all my energy. I could have gone back to the poison I knew and understood with Cole. But sex with him came wrapped in layers of cobwebs. Why spend my free time with a man who only amped up my aggression instead of defusing my frustrations?

  I had my hands full with everything going on in my world. Some nights I stumbled back to my room, consumed with the mental weight I’d concealed for hours with a smile. Thoughts of my family stayed on a tumultuous repeat in my subconscious while my job wore me down mentally and physically. I needed someone to relieve the stress, not make the day worse.

  I needed someone like Javier.

  Our casual arrangement had become the antidote to what sucked the life from me. I didn’t need dates. I just needed him to slip into my room at night. His touch made my body relax and his words calmed the storm in my mind.

  That’s all I needed. It’s what made sense.

  Until he offered more.

  As I waited in the parking lot, the expectations of the first date milestone hit me hard. Emotionally. Physically. My mind danced away with thoughts as the euphoric high buzzed in my chest.

  He said the restaurant was very casual. I wore a light-blue tank top and a pair of jeans with flat gold sandals. Something I didn’t do very often. Heels added a few inches to my medium height. Taller people gave the illusion of being more powerful and less intimidated. But flats said relaxed. And I wanted to give the appearance of this date not being a big deal.

  Javier parked his Range Rover next to my car. We both got out of our vehicles. A secret rendezvous. The flutters of anticipation rushed all through me. I liked the thrill of sneaking out of the house only to meet up in public.

  “Sarina.” He smiled. I expected Javier to immediately kiss me. But he didn’t even lean in for a peck on the cheek. Instead, he took my hand as we walked together toward the entrance of the restaurant. “Are you feeling adventurous tonight?”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I nodded. “I’m up for whatever you want.”

  “Well, I’ve only been here a few times, but they make the best sudado de pollo.”

  “And that is . . .” I looked up at him expectantly as we stood in front of the door. He dressed casual sexy tonight in a gray fitted T-shirt and jeans. The top of my head fell somewhere around the level of his chin without my heels. I wanted to lean into him, rest my face against his chest to see if his heartbeat thumped in a nervous rhythm like mine.

  “Pollo is chicken. Or you might like the puchero santafereño.”

  I laughed. “Maybe you should just order for me.”

  He let go of my hand as we reached the booth. Sliding in across from me, his grin turned a little wild. “You should not have said that.”

  My heart flipped in response. Expectations growing bigger by the minute. The date moved forward as the waiter came by to take our orders. Javier spoke in rapid Spanish and the man disappeared into the kitchen.

  We talked amongst ourselves, nothing too important. Mostly about my day with his grandmother. The food arrived rather quickly, covering our entire table with seven different dishes.

  “Uh . . . how much do you think I eat?” I teased him.

  “I thought you should try all my favorites.” His eyes beamed bright with excitement as he passed me one of the extra plates.

  “So how does this work? Do you tell me what I’m eating or do I just go in blind?”

  He laughed. “No worries. I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Good.” I pointed at the one closest to me. “What’s that?”

  “Bandeja paisa. And the one next to it is puchero santafereño. But start with the sudado de pollo.”

  “What’s in the sudado de pollo?”

  “Taste first. Then I’ll tell you.”

  I laughed. “I thought you promised to tell me everything.”

  “I do. And I will.” His voice rolled over the words. “But taste first.”

  Javier had a beautiful smile. Sometimes his lips quivered when he bit back a laugh. And sometimes they took on a devilish twist when he teased me. And sometimes they relaxed full and pink the way they did now. I wanted to lean across the table and kiss him. But I kept my lips to myself and focused on my fork.

  The food tasted different than anything I’d experienced before in my life. I savored each bite, chewing through the different flavors while he told me about the ingredients. I loved the way Javier described details. Any person could say a list of adjectives, but those explicit words came alive with his passionate voice behind each syllable. All this talk of food eventually led him to a story about his other grandmother. She’d taught him to make something called pescado frito.

  “You can cook?” I gasped in surprise.

  “Well, I don’t do it very often here. I wish I could, but there’s no reason with a full-time chef in the house.”

  I laughed sarcastically. “I guess having a chef in your home is very inconvenient.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way.” He took a drink of his Coke, licking the remaining moisture from his bottom lip as he contemplated his words. “My life in Colombia was very different than here. I’ve told you this. But I don’t think you understand completely. My family has a successful business. But it’s not anything like what the Hawthorns have here. I’m not that person. I’m this person.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I’m this person.” He gestured toward his chest and then nodded toward the table.

  As I looked at him, I still wasn’t sure I understood or liked what he seemed to be suggesting about me. The casual restaurant choice. The casual clothes. “Are you afraid that I like you for the Hawthorn money?”

  “I know you don’t. And I know because you insist on working for what you have. I could make things easier for you. But you have never asked me. And when I offer, you refuse. Your integrity is one of the things I like about you. But I think you may get confused about who I am. And I want you to see the real me. Not who you see at the estate. And you haven’t seen me any other way. I’m trying to show you tonight. Maybe just a little.”

  I realized somewhere in his speech, Javier wasn’t just saying those words to me. He was saying them to himself. And that made everything suddenly clear.

  I smiled and reached across the table. My hand rested on top of his hand, next to a half-eaten dish of pollo.

  “I like you, Javier. Not this version of you compared to that version of you. I know you have deep roots. They won’t go away. But there’s also the guy you’ve become here. I think it might be hard for you to admit or accept that both of those people are you. And that’s okay with me. Because I like all of you.”

  Ja
vier let out a deep breath. Maybe out of relief as he absorbed what I said to him. His hand turned palm up and intertwined our fingers. A smile tugged at his lips. “I like you too, Sarina Atwood. In case you didn’t know.”

  Financial. Emotional. Physical. All those expectations twisting around us as we sat at a little booth in a restaurant that reminded him of the person he was afraid of losing. Himself. The other side of his heart that still lived in another part of the world.

  “Okay, so we better get back to eating. Because if I slow down, I’ll have to tap out.” I squeezed his hand and let go. “We haven’t tried this one. What is it?”

  “A type of chorizo and rice.” He put his fork in the middle of the dish, loading it full of food, and then offered the bite to me. My lips closed around the fork and he slid it slowly out of my mouth. His eyebrows raised in question as I chewed on the sausage.

  I gave a silent smile and nodded. Yes, Javier. It’s very good.

  We both laughed. And that’s the way the rest of our first date went that night. We talked and laughed and teased each other. I saw more of his personality and how easy real life could be with this man. Both sides of him.

  After dinner, we took a walk through a little park, holding hands as the moonlight played across the small pond in the middle. The night air was humid, but we didn’t care. I told him more about me. About who I’d been before arriving at the estate. Small pieces. Ones that felt okay to share.

  When he dropped me back off at my car, he placed a chaste kiss on my cheek. I thought he would give me a real kiss goodbye. But my expectations once again proved to be wrong. As he climbed into his own vehicle, Javier flashed a heated grin with a little wink. My body responded to the suggestive promise. I knew what that meant without him even saying the words. He wanted the date to be this. And he would join me later for that.

  I drove home with butterflies in my stomach. Two hours later, Javier slipped quietly into my room. His hands moved over my skin. Slowly. Fingers digging seductively into my flesh. Nose to nose. Eyes locked. His body moving inside of mine. The desire between us breathtakingly intense as we came together.