The Hawks_A Novel

by SD Hendrickson

  My phone rang in my jeans pocket. Fishing it out, I answered without looking at the screen. I didn’t want to take my eyes off Mr. Wood Scratcher. “Hello?”

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Cole,” I responded with a warning edge to my voice.

  “Sorry. Bad habit. I’m working on it.”

  I shook my head. “It’s fine. Just start talking.”

  “Can you come out here? I know you’re—”

  “No. I can’t.” I cut him off. I walked across the room with my phone pressed to my ear. There were still too many last-minute details to finish before tonight, which included finding a small space in my schedule to actually get dressed up for this gala.

  And on cue, the men literally dropped the blackjack table.

  “Hey!” I yelled at the movers. “What part of careful do you not understand?”

  “What?” I heard Cole on the phone.

  “Sorry. Not you.” I rubbed my forehead. “I can come tomorrow or literally any other day for the rest of my life. Just not today.”

  “Sarina—”

  “I’m really sorry. And I’m not trying to be mean. I can’t. Literally. There is no budging on it. Today is the day. The one I have spent months on. The one that guarantees I am fired if I step one toe outside this house. I’m sorry. But you’re on your own. So unless someone is in the hospital, I can’t talk anymore.” I spoke fast as I watched Mr. Wood Scratcher and his accomplice pick up the table again. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Wait—”

  I was growing exasperated. “Is anyone in my immediate family in the hospital?”

  “No.”

  “My mother? Did something else happen?” I braced for the bad news even though things seemed to be going better with her living in a facility and not with my grandparents.

  “She’s fine. But I—”

  “I’m really sorry. But I’ll call you in the morning. Or I’ll even meet you. And we can have breakfast or drinks or breakfast drinks. But I have to go.”

  I tossed my phone on a shelf under the bar. I heard it vibrating again. But I was already walking toward the men. “Do you know how many days it took for this floor to be hand polished? I said be careful!”

  He tossed me an annoyed glare. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  If I had the arm muscles of the Hulk, I would just carry the damn thing into the house myself. But I was at the mercy of these two men. I could do nothing but stand there with my arms crossed as they went back to work.

  The place barely resembled the room I’d interviewed in several months ago. In addition to roulette and blackjack, the men had delivered tables accented with crushed-green velvet for the patrons to play craps and poker.

  This was my idea, which took some convincing when it came to Mrs. Hawthorn. People could purchase chips at the door as a donation. Play as they mingled and drank at the bar. More fun and more alcohol would equal more money spent when they bid on the silent auction items.

  “Does everything look okay?” Mr. Wood Scratcher asked, his gray eyes challenging me to disagree.

  I took one last glance at the ballroom, inspecting the layout. “I think so. Thank you.”

  “We’ll come get everything tomorrow. Probably won’t be until after two.”

  “That’s fine.” I had no intention of being up early in the morning. For once, I hoped tonight would wear Mrs. Hawthorn out and she would sleep late.

  “The dealers usually show up about thirty minutes before the party. They won’t need much setup.”

  I shook my head, trying not to yell at the man. “The contract said an hour. But that’s not your problem. I’ll go call the company.”

  “Yeah, take it up with the boss.” He smirked, rubbing the beard on his chin. Mr. Wood Scratcher turned his hat around as he and his accomplice left the room.

  I went back to work, fussing with tablecloths and small pub tables. The decorations in the room had the 1920s flair of The Great Gatsby—also my idea. It was a perfect fit that blended with the natural historical essence of the ballroom.

  “I’m impressed, Ms. Atwood.” I turned around to find my employer with Brenda next to her. “You’ve made this place appear elegant again.”

  I was tired and my senses overheightened. Her words sparked tears in my eyes. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for with this woman. Delsey Hawthorn just praised something I’d accomplished.

  I focused my attention back to the tasks at hand before I embarrassed myself. “Thank you. The hors d’oeuvres will go on each side of the bar. I thought two small setups would work better with the room flow instead of one large. The food will serve as accents to the main show. They can grab a bite to eat while drinking and gambling. Everything will be easily accessible yet intermingled, encouraging people to stay longer.”

  Her coral lips pursed as her blue eyes scanned the room, imagining it overflowing with guests as they moved about the party. “I believe that should work nicely.”

  “Brenda.” I smiled warmly at my friend. “When do the girls get here?”

  “Scarlett’s already in the kitchen. I got her tiny hands makin’ all that tiny food.” She laughed. “And Josie will be here soon. She had to drop her kids off at her mama’s house.”

  I dared a glance at Mrs. Hawthorn, but she seemed relatively stable given that the party would start in three hours. I looked back at the cook. “Are the rented catering refrigerators working okay?”

  “Darlin’, they are absolutely perfect.”

  Brenda had suggested refrigerators to me and I’d slipped the order in without asking Mrs. Hawthorn. She had been appalled when they arrived yesterday—especially when we had to place the giant metal boxes in the formal dining room. It was the only room close enough to the kitchen with adequate space.

  “And we are all set to go with the servers and bartenders?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The cook nodded. “Scarlett and Josie are going to work the ballroom. I assigned each of the ladies to monitor table setup while I run everything in the kitchen. The bartenders will be here about an hour before the party.”

  “What are they wearing?” Mrs. Hawthorn’s voice sliced into our conversation. “I don’t want to see any of those ghastly tattoos on their arms.”

  I gave her a reassuring look with a calm voice. “We should have no issues. I ordered matching outfits to fit the 1920s feel of the party. Remember? The men have white long-sleeve, button-up shirts with black suspenders. The girls have matching flapper girl outfits. The table dealers will match the bartenders.”

  Her hawk eyes swept the room, looking for something I’d missed. “Well, it seems everything is in order. I have my hair appointment. Loraine should be here soon. I’m leaving everything in your hands, Ms. Atwood.”

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “I don’t foresee any issues.”

  “Very good. See you tonight.” Mrs. Hawthorn walked toward the double doors.

  I waited until she was in the hallway before I even dared a look at Brenda. “Wow, so that’s the happy version of her.”

  She laughed. “Well, she wasn’t too happy in the kitchen even though everything is perfect. She tasted every hors d’oeuvre, frowned, then moved to the next. I think she wanted something to taste downright awful. And we all know, I don’t make anything awful. But that woman doesn’t know how to act when she can’t be complainin’.”

  “So true.” I rolled my eyes. “Well, you need anything else from me?”

  “Nope. You should go take a breather and put on that pretty dress. It’s gonna be a long night.”

  “No kidding. But no resting yet. I’ve got a few more things to do.”

  Brenda and I walked out of the ballroom together. We split in the hallway with me going to my office and her to the kitchen.

  I stood in front of the mirror, styling my blonde hair into an elegant twist, wanting the open back of my dress to show tonight. The fabric flowed like a seductive dream against my legs. I loved the feel of real silk. A few weeks ago, I’d fo
und a website that rented actual designer clothes. I ordered the Vera Wang for a reasonable price and the small deposit would be returned if I managed not to stain or tear the beautiful creation.

  The color ranged between canary yellow and a deep mustard. The fabric crisscrossed over my back in wide pieces. They draped up my shoulders, leaving an extensive split between my breasts, while the bottom fell in a wide, flowing skirt, landing somewhere around my ankles. It made a very dramatic statement of old Hollywood glam, but with a daring, modern twist. I loved every single piece of it.

  I slipped my feet into a rather sharp pair of real Louboutins—also rented from the online store. I didn’t care about the pain my toes and legs would feel tomorrow. This dress deserved those shoes.

  I walked down the hallway, my heels clicking on the wood until I reached the entryway. The valet service was all ready to go in the circle driveway. Leaving the professionals to handle the arriving guests, I made my way to the kitchen. Brenda gave me a thumbs-up when I stuck my head in the door.

  And then I went through the grand entrance of the ballroom. I sucked in a deep breath. Everything was perfect. I wanted to twirl around in my dress, giddy with excitement. I’d worked my ass off for this party. Yet in my rented clothes, I actually felt like I blended in with these people. I was meant to be here.

  The room quickly filled with patrons. They sparkled in glamorous cocktail dresses and tuxedos while eating the crab salad canapes and smoked salmon cucumber rolls. I stopped by the table and tasted a sample of the toasted brioche rounds topped with crème fraiche and caviar. Brenda was an absolute genius with food. She made the nasty fish eggs delicious.

  The alcohol flowed with abandonment as the guests played at the casino tables and joined in boisterous conversations. I made a trip by the silent auction tables, eyeing the price of the current bids. I did a quick mental calculation.

  “Ms. Atwood.”

  I jerked at the sound of her voice behind me. Spinning around, I plastered a smile on my glossy lips. “Yes, Mrs. Hawthorn?”

  “How is the auction coming?”

  “Good. I think once the final bids are totaled at the end of the night, we will surpass the expected total. Add the casino table chip pledges, and we should almost double the predicted grand total for the fundraiser.”

  She pursed her lips, doing her best to stay composed. But I saw it. The slight hint of a smile on the corners of her mouth. Why couldn’t the woman just be happy for once? Happy for my success. I know she rejoiced on the inside. Did she think it unbecoming to celebrate our win?

  “Well.” She paused, tilting her chin up a bit. “You may start planning your trip, Ms. Atwood.”

  “Trip?” I asked the question before the implication suddenly hit me. She’d promised Turks and Caicos if the fundraiser proved to be a success. So many things had happened since the day of the interview. My world didn’t feel the same on so many levels. Somewhere in the chaos, I’d forgotten my bonus.

  The news made the lights glisten more vibrantly, and I relished in my victory. I’d finally pleased this woman. She may not lavish me with verbal praise, but I understood what this gesture meant in her world. “Thank you. When do I go?”

  “I think it’s best to get it out of the way so we can get back to work. We need to start looking ahead. Tomorrow, this will all be forgotten and we must start over again.”

  “Of course.” I nodded, feeling the elation of my win and yet the sorrow of knowing all this work would disappear when the sun rose tomorrow.

  “Well, come along. I have a few people I think you should meet. It will help you in our next endeavor.”

  Mrs. Hawthorn introduced me to about half the room. I smiled until my face hurt and I craved a drink from the incessant talking. I wanted some of the sparkling champagne, but I knew how my boss felt about my consumption of alcohol while at the party.

  Linda Rosemont discretely slipped me her card while my boss chatted with a city councilman. “You should call me.” Her hazel eyes darted to Mrs. Hawthorn. “On your day off.”

  And so it began. The invite to meet and discuss a different path. I smiled politely and tucked the expensive card out of view. My mind spun off into different directions, wondering what she had to offer me as a job. I’d seen her house just a few streets over. Very beautiful. Would she invite me to live there too? The idea seemed strange. Actually leaving this place. The evolution of what came next. But this was the goal. Keep my head in the game.

  With a little glass flute of club soda in my hand, I checked on the front table where a couple of the ladies from the hospital auxiliary greeted guests and sold poker chips with good faith pledges. I would issue invoices after the party for their gambling debts.

  My body buzzed with sudden awareness. I felt a presence behind me and then a low voice. “Meet me in the library in ten minutes.”

  I turned around, but Javier had already stepped a few feet away, talking to another guest. He casually shifted his eyes back over in my direction before laughing at something the man said to him. His smile remained while I had visions of capturing those lips in a heated kiss.

  We had yet to speak during the party. But my gaze had absently followed him most of the evening. I didn’t want to be distracted, but I couldn’t control my reaction to how attractive he appeared tonight. Sexy. Confident. His custom-made tuxedo made the other men in the room fade from view. And that smile. Javier used it like a weapon.

  I checked on the bartenders. Everything seemed to be under control. My heart beat faster as I walked over to the food tables. Glancing at the clock, I waited a few more minutes before slipping out the door. The library was shut off tonight along with most of the other rooms in the house. The guests were only permitted in the ballroom.

  I let myself inside the single wooden door. Books lined the walls on both sides. It wasn’t an extremely large library, but sizeable compared to most houses. I walked amongst the shelves, reading the titles as I waited for him to join me.

  Oliver Twist still remained a mystery to me. I had no idea why the classic novel was so special to her. I pulled the copy out and laid it on the desk, flipping through the pages, looking for the evasive clue.

  The door opened. I smiled as Javier shut it firmly behind him. Only a small lamp lit the room, draping him in shadows. His black hair was slicked back, giving a debonair accent to his tuxedo. I looked into his eyes, deep chocolate in the dim light, suggesting something wicked played in his mind.

  “Mi Sarina, you are the most beautiful woman here tonight. You keep distracting me.”

  I laughed. “Me . . . distract you?”

  “Very much.” His hands captured my waist. “I wish the party had dancing. And then maybe I could have touched you in the room instead of hiding in here.”

  “Well, you don’t want to hear your grandmother’s profound theories on dancing at parties. Men being tempted by beautiful women makes the focus shift from giving money to a charity . . . to sex.”

  Javier held me, his lips close to mine. “Maybe she isn’t that crazy.”

  I laughed. “Yes, she is.”

  Our feet shuffled to the faint sound of music from the ballroom. Javier held me, his lips close to mine. “I’m proud of you. Organizing the fundraiser. Handling my grandmother and her pretentious friends. I know the money donated tonight is all because of you, Sarina. Good job.”

  “She’s giving me the trip.”

  “Trip?” His eyebrows went up in confusion.

  “It was something she offered the day I interviewed. If this fundraiser was a success, I could spend a week in Turks and Caicos. I guess she has a house there.”

  He smiled. “I haven’t been, but I’ve heard it’s nice. Ted and Franklin go there sometimes. When is she sending you?”

  “I guess it will be soon. At least from what she said. I need to get my vacation over with so we can get back to work.”

  He shrugged. “Unless someone makes you a better offer and you no longer work for her.”
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br />   “Well, no one has yet. I’m still her dutiful servant. But Linda Rosemont did slip me her card.” I laughed. “Your grandmother was standing right there. But she had the guts to do it anyway. Made me want to say yes to her. Anyone that blatant has my vote.”

  “Well, whatever you decide to do, just promise me that you won’t take the first offer.”

  “Well, I’m going to negotiate,” I teased him. “But I have to play it carefully. I can’t be too demanding.”

  “But Linda isn’t giving you the first offer.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. No one else has approached me yet.” I shrugged. “Did someone say something to you? I think it would be strange if they did. But—”

  “No, Sarina.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” Our feet stopped moving in the slow dance as I stared at him.

  “I’m sorry. This might be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Makes me selfish.” His eyes were cast down in almost sadness yet still filled with longing. “You could work for me, Sarina. I’m offering you a job with my company. Help me start it.”

  “I don’t under—” My words faltered on my tongue as it suddenly became clear. “What are you doing? Are you asking me to come to Colombia?”

  “Si,” he whispered.

  The air turned suddenly very serious. Each breath stale. All the humor and laughter drained from my chest. My eyes grew wide. The absurdity of his offer hit me in the gut while my heart soared at the idea. And then I got angry. “You can’t just play these games, throwing out these . . . these . . . grand gestures. Making me want something that I can never have.”

  “I told you to say no.” His voice was warm with emotion as he cupped my cheeks in his hands. “I told you it was selfish to say it. But I want you to know that’s how I feel. I admire the woman you are now and the one you’re becoming. We could be great together at my company. I see the way your eyes light up at the idea. The yearning there. But I know that it was cruel to even suggest it. Because you can’t leave your family. Yet here I am, offering you the impossible. A job and a life with me.”

  “A life with you?” I muttered.