The Hawks_A Novel

by SD Hendrickson

  As I remained parked in front of the gate, the tallest of the men came closer to my car. He wore a plaid shirt, untucked from a pair of faded jeans. On a normal day, the man would not be any different than a person I passed in the grocery store. But out here in the street, his brown eyes appeared menacing as he got closer to my window.

  “Yeah, I got better things to do. But I can’t do them because the Hawthorns are fuckin’ up my land.” His breath reeked of stale coffee.

  “So being here unfucks your land,” I quipped.

  “You don’t know shit, girl.” The guy rubbed a thumb over the speckled gray-and-black scruff on his chin as he sneered at me. “You’re just a rich bitch like the rest of the little puppets running around here.”

  “Do I really look like some rich bitch to you?”

  The guy leaned an elbow on the edge of my window. I shivered a little, seeing the way his eyes roamed over my body. He made me feel cheap. Dirty. This stupid dress needed to go in the trash.

  His tongue wetted his bottom lip. “I bet you have no problem putting their blood money into your bank account. And I doubt you have no problem sleeping in that house. Makes you no different than the Hawthorns. Their sins are your sins.”

  I gave him an even stare, holding my ground. I wasn’t about to apologize for taking the paycheck I earned, working my ass off every day for that family.

  “Do you know how much money they give to charity? How much money the family gives to the hospital? And the park over there by the river? They built that damn park for the city. Kids are able to play every day because of the Hawthorns. They even host fundraisers. They make other people give back to the community.”

  “Atonement doesn’t erase a crime, girl.” He laughed. “Only punishment of the criminal.”

  I opened my mouth to say something back and then closed it. I was wasting my breath and time and every bit of my remaining energy. There was no rationale when arguing with a crazy person. I wasn’t going to change the mind of someone who chose to stand out in the street in the middle of the night.

  My eyes flickered to the gate, which still remained shut. I needed this weird discussion to end. I had no business opening my big mouth and confronting one of the protestors. The Hawthorns would be furious. And I didn’t know anything about this man—the one leering at me through my car window like I was a hooker.

  Reaching over into my passenger’s seat, I grabbed the automatic opener and punched the button. The gates moved slowly, filling the silence with the creaking sound of the iron hinges. The man still had his elbow on the window, invading my personal space.

  I looked pointedly at him. “Move.”

  He laughed again.

  “Get the hell away from my car!”

  “All right, all right. No need to get hateful.” He raised his hands in surrender, backing away. “But they got you brainwashed, girl, with all their fancy shit. Ain’t gonna do you no good, though. When that house falls, you’re gonna go down with it. And it will fall. Mark my words. They can’t keep screwing people over forever.”

  I hit the gas, leaving the insane man behind me. My head pounded in a synchronized rhythm. My eyes were gritty. The last few hours had turned into the ultimate clusterfuck.

  And my family . . .

  I wanted to cry now that I was alone, but tears required energy. It was all too much. Too much information tonight and too many heartbreaks. I just had to stay focused on the positive. Mama was finally getting help.

  When I stumbled through the door of my room, I found my freshly washed clothes folded in tidy piles on my bed. I fell next to them. Fully dressed. My face resting on my T-shirts, which smelled of spring cotton.

  I would have to give up everything. The money. The house. All the perks I earned working here. And to do what? Be a bartender down the road from my grandparents’ house? Pour drinks at Ruby’s for Cole and his friends? I’d be close. I could practically walk there. And maybe eventually, if I prayed hard enough, one of the few low-paying receptionist jobs would open up. If I got lucky. Or I could take Mama’s old job stocking groceries at night. Or just take Gram’s job at the grocery mart.

  Was that the life Cole envisioned for me?

  Damn you, Cole. Get out of my head.

  I’d always worked in the city for a reason. Even when it required me to drive forty-five minutes one way. They paid me better. I had more opportunities. I could leave the Hawthorns, but why trade one city job for another? And no one could give me what I earned in this place.

  I was too exhausted for this inner discussion. My haunting thoughts were starting to ramble the way a drunk man did at closing time. And that was one step away from talking to myself, which scared the shit out of me. My eyes remained closed as I drifted off to sleep.

  Peaceful. Quiet. Serenity.

  “Ms. Atwood! Wake up! It’s time for us to open the ballroom.”

  My eyes flew open, seeing the time on the clock read ten before six in the morning. Are you fucking kidding me? I’d only been out for fifteen minutes. I’d planned to sleep until seven thirty with a hasty shower and then report to her office at eight.

  I wanted to kill her myself. Go hand deliver Delsey Hawthorn to that beady-eyed man outside the gates.

  I’m done. You’re right. She’s awful.

  Instead, I pulled myself from the comfortable bed and went over to the intercom. “Sorry, Mrs. Hawthorn. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Present Day

  BLUE MOTIONED FOR THE MAN in the gray mask to bring the waitress over to where he stood in front of Delsey Hawthorn. “Now, let’s get this over with. Where’s the money?”

  My eyes drifted out across the room to the casino tables. They were empty now. All the patrons were back in their expensive homes, sleeping in their luxury sheets.

  I looked back to my employer. Her lips remained pursed, the wheels inside her old head turning at warp speed. “If I decide to indulge your threat and tell you where the money is located, what do you plan to do next?”

  “We leave and you get to live out the rest of your life as some old dominating cunt.”

  Her jaw tightened. No one ever spoke to Mrs. Hawthorn that way. I knew it must have taken every ounce of her control to keep from lashing out at the man. “Very well. There’s a safe hidden in the library wall behind the painting. The code is in the pages of my book, Oliver Twist. It’s lying open on the desk.”

  What? I tried to figure out where she was going with this. Oliver Twist? Her forbidden book. The pages were still spread open from where I’d left it sitting just a few hours ago during our confrontation in the library. And now Mrs. Hawthorn claimed a secret code existed in the back for some safe I’d never seen.

  “And the money is inside?” Blue prompted.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Take the girl to the library. And if the money is not in the safe . . .” His eyes got a little wild as his voice dragged out the syllables. “Shoot her.”

  I gasped. My heart hurt in my chest. I stared at the waitress. A tear rolled down her cheek. This was it. The pinnacle moment. We needed to do something to stop this madness. Anger radiated off the clenched body of the man sitting next to me. Only a few of us were strong enough to actually fight. But none of us could get the upper hand. Any movement to save one person would surely get another killed.

  Hollow Eyes moved over to where the man in the gray mask had the waitress. “Give her to me.”

  “No,” he growled.

  “You ain’t got the balls to do it.” He yanked the girl out of his partner’s hold. The heated exchange continued between the men with blazing glares. Those two despised each other, which spilled over as a break in the united front of the intruders. A small crack. A small glimmer of hope.

  “Stop wasting time. I don’t give a shit who does it,” Blue yelled as he kept his eyes on Mrs. Hawthorn. “I’m more concerned that you ain’t cooperating. Let me ask you this one more time: How confident are you in the truth?”

  Mrs.
Hawthorn stared back at him with pursed lips. She held the life of the waitress in her hands. I hoped she knew something that I didn’t about the events from tonight. Because we didn’t have any money from the party. It was all pledges. Not a single penny collected at the door. Who in their right mind thought we took in millions of cash and just had it sitting around? This just proved these men were actually crazy. Mentally deranged.

  The cook continued to hum next to me. I knew it gave her comfort, but I wished for the woman to be quiet. One of those men would eventually notice her making noise.

  “All right then.” He motioned to Hollow Eyes. “Go get the money.”

  The captor and the hostage only made it a few steps when that familiar curt voice belted across the ballroom. “You need to take Ms. Atwood instead. She knows how to open the safe.”

  Mrs. Hawthorn turned her full attention to me.

  I stared back at her in horror.

  Did she hate me that much? Did she want these men to shoot me on her stupid scavenger hunt for a mythical safe and money that didn’t exist? I knew what happened earlier tonight had pissed her off. But that confrontation felt like ages ago compared to the life-and-death acts playing out in front of us.

  Her icy gaze stayed focused on me.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Fine,” Blue said. “Take the princess.”

  Late Summer

  AFTER SPENDING THE NIGHT AT the hospital with my family, I only wanted to bury myself in my high-thread cotton sheets and sleep until lunch. But Mrs. Hawthorn had other plans. She wanted to open the ballroom before the sun even rose.

  I showered in two minutes, keeping my head free of the water. There wasn’t time for shampoo. I twisted my dry hair into a tidy bun, followed by a quick brush of my teeth. Digging through my black makeup bag, I found a tube of pale lip gloss. Only the bare minimum. The clock ticked faster than I could think. I threw on a respectable, sleeveless, cream-colored dress and two-inch wedge pumps, then ran out the door in the direction of the kitchen. Brenda had a pot of coffee already brewed. I filled a travel cup to the brim.

  “Sarina?” She stuck her head out of the pantry to investigate the morning intruder. I gave her a weary smile before dashing out the door.

  It had only taken me fourteen minutes to wake up and remove the layers of hospital grim and arrive at work. Record time. I wanted to give myself a pat on the back, but instead, I clasped the large container of coffee in my fist. Just what I needed. More caffeine. But I didn’t have a choice. I barely could see straight and I needed the black liquid to jump-start my brain.

  Opening the ballroom doors, I let out a frustrated sigh. Of course Mrs. Hawthorn was already impeccably dressed with a full face of strategic makeup at this hour. She glanced at my hand, seeing the morning beverage, and her nose curled slightly. She viewed coffee as a disgusting weakness. Well, she would just have to overlook it today.

  “Nice to see you are finally ready to work this morning, Ms. Atwood. You have quite the busy day ahead of you.”

  I glanced around the bare room, seeing only a few pieces of furniture covered in white tarps along with the bar. Maybe I was missing something, but it shouldn’t take very long to get everything uncovered. Not that it required an unveiling at six in the morning, either.

  “You must get these items at the store,” she said, handing me a list. “All of the wood in this room requires attention. The floor itself needs at least two coats of this specific wax. It’s the only thing I will allow to touch the fine grain. And it must be applied by hand. All of the baseboards and detail work will need this other polish. Now the bar area . . .” She walked casually over to the wall in the back. “The bar will require an additional coat of something that will repel water. Talk to someone at the store and see what they recommend for you to use. People are just ridiculously clumsy these days. No grace or elegance while they sip their drinks.”

  My fingers held the list. She wanted me to personally clean the grand ballroom. By hand. I had so many other things to accomplish before the fundraiser, and none of those items included several days of polishing wood.

  “Mrs. Hawthorn . . .” My thoughts were sluggish as I searched for the right words to steer this situation in a different direction. “I still have several major tasks I need to finish before the end of the week. Maybe I could call in a very reputable cleaning company. I’ll check references. Someone with expertise who would be able to make this place beautiful in only a fraction of the time. You wouldn’t want me to miss any deadlines for the fundraiser. I think hiring someone would be best.”

  “I did hire someone. I hired you, Ms. Atwood. And it wasn’t for your opinions. And frankly, I’m disappointed. I pay you quite well. I assumed you would be more cooperative.”

  What the . . . cooperative? My nerves were shot and I’d already yelled at a protestor. I couldn’t handle one of her episodes this morning. Maybe if I just told her a little about last night, it would get her off my case today.

  I let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be uncooperative. I had a difficult night. And I haven’t slept much. My mother’s sick and was admitted to the hospital. I had to stay with my family.”

  “Well, that at least explains your whereabouts this morning. So her mental challenges are getting worse?”

  “What?” I gripped my cup. How did she know about my mama?

  “Don’t act so surprised. Of course I know of your family situation. Do you think I picked you for this job because I thought you were the most qualified?” Her dark penciled eyebrows lifted up as she stared at me. “I chose you over all the other applicants because I thought you would be the most motivated. I have extensive background checks done on my employees, Ms. Atwood. I can’t have some petty thief living in my home. But I go much deeper. I want to know what makes a person tick.”

  The fatigue and paranoia grew stronger as she played mind games with me. It was too damn early for her words to get this deranged.

  She gave me a pointed look as she continued. “I know of your mother’s mental state. I know which hospital treats her. And of your grandparents, which is why I insisted that Sunday be your designated personal day. I also know your brother is not quite as substantial as you when it comes to employment, considering he never graduated high school.”

  The objection formed on my lips, but she shot it down with a cold stare of amusement. “Are you not aware of that little fact? Well, it was easy to discover when my lawyer obtained all your school records. I told him to gather the files for Tyson Atwood as well. ’Tis a shame to squander a free education and the taxpayers’ money.”

  My heart beat fast in my chest. The caffeine shifted into overdrive as I fought to process her revelation. Ty had never graduated high school? Is that why he never applied to welding school? The admissions office would require a diploma or at least a GED. He’d lied to me. To all of us.

  “The anger toward your brother is warranted. But remember, Ms. Atwood, you’re not as forthcoming as you pretend to be, either.” She smirked. “I also know of the embellishments on your résumé. No, it wasn’t all a complete lie. I had my lawyer speak with a few of the employees at the hotel. Yet despite your indiscretions, I offered you this job anyway. Would you like to know why?”

  My throat felt like sand. Did she expect an answer to her rhetorical question?

  “Why?” I croaked.

  “Yes. Why indeed?” She laughed. “Well, I decided you had something the others lacked. Tenacity. And I knew you would do whatever it took to get the job done. And I’m rarely wrong when it comes to judging a person’s character. So I ask you this, Ms. Atwood: Was I wrong about you?”

  I stared at her dumbfounded for a moment. Was it a compliment? A threat? Her ice-blue eyes bored into my thoughts, cutting me into pieces with just a look as I tried to decipher the meaning to her invasive speech and questions. My head shook before the words left my lips. “No. No, ma’am. You were not wrong.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Ha
wthorn paused, tilting her head to the side as she gazed at me for a moment. “I believe you’re very similar to Antonio. Sometimes people just need to be reminded that a job is a gift. Not a privilege. And that is what I’ve given you. A very rare gift that many wanted and only you received.”

  Her coral-painted lips curled up just slightly. The arrogance was so strong I smelled it laced with her expensive perfume.

  “Now make this ballroom shine.” Her hands clapped together twice. “You best get busy, Ms. Atwood. You don’t have many days left. And as you mentioned, there are numerous tasks you need to accomplish before the fundraiser.”

  She swept out of the room with the elegance of a queen and the talons of a vulture. She truly was a hawk, always circling around for the kill.

  I took a sip of coffee, feeling the bitter liquid go down my throat. She was right. I hated her for it. But this job was a gift.

  I would polish her damn floor. And then I would earn another gold star of endurance. Those sparkling tally marks would eventually add up until I left here with a recommendation letter from the Delsey Hawthorn. Resigning now didn’t make sense. Going back home jobless wouldn’t help my family—regardless of what that asshole Jeremiah Cole said last night.

  But it wasn’t like this job was easy. Nor was she a sweet old lady I pampered each day as we sipped tea by the pool. I earned every penny, every night in that plush bed, every folded shirt, and every damn piece of cake.

  I walked over to the bar and yanked the tarp covering the handsome antique wood. Dust flew in every direction. I wanted to open a window and let in a little fresh air. But this room was sealed up tight. I spun around in a slow circle as the realization hit me. The ballroom didn’t have a single exit except for the main double doors. I assumed as a private residence that it didn’t require an approval from the fire department because this broke just about every fire code.

  I ran my hand over the top of the bar. The grand design reminded me of the old prohibition days. I continued around the room, collecting a few other tarps, covering the chairs and tables.