Page 24 of Betrayal

She’d coaxed Helen to join her on what should have been a one-night job—the rebellion of eighteen-year-olds.Burst naked out of a birthday cake, hang around for a few minutes, and then disappear with enough cash to fund a long weekend at the music festival Splendour in the Grass.

Except it hadn’t worked out like that for Helen.Helen had tried to live with what had happened to her that night.Instead, shame and hurt had paralysed her.She’d forgotten how to do basic tasks, like wash herself, dress, even eat in the weeks leading to her suicide.Helen’s innocence had been betrayed.Anna still raged at being unable to hold Helen’s attacker to account.

Anna had itemised her disillusion for Hunter.He’dsharedher rage, which marked him out as what?One of the good guys?A liar?Unusual?

Anna rejected the victim label.Having a twin was part of that—together Kate and she were stronger.Anna had reached a truce with her father.She’d told herself every teenager picked dud partners from time to time, and forgiven herself those mistakes.She’d also finally forgiven herself for being so overwhelmed by grief when Helen committed suicide, that she didn’t see fast enough that Andrew Levin was a control freak intent on destroying Kate.

Okay, I set tests for people, like my outrageous outfits, the fact I rarely drink alcohol at public venues, and arrange my own transport.

She’d been doing well until that company exec threatened to get his company’s contract cancelled.She’d fought hard to be strong and resilient, then one guy with a Madonna/whore complex had made her question whether all her wounds had healed.

Anna liked Hunter S.Thompson, but in listing her disillusions, she hadn’t told him about Helen.

* * *

Five days, a mere threeworking days later, Hunter had expedited the legalities with the local authority and lined up a team to start on the rehab.He had rough drawings, some colour and fabric samples and, crazily, couldn’t wait to show them to Anna.

Financially, it didn’t matter if she signed or not, although he’d had the contract drawn up and emailed to Changing Minds.Hariri, father and son, were sold on the concept.The next step was pointing out it was the perfect stepping stone for Maha to expand her business, and it gave him a kick to realise he—family, but not family—would provide the chance for the Hariris to help each other.

But a part of Hunter he’d fought into a box, the part seeking praise from someone he cared about, wanted to see Anna’s face when he showed her the possibilities of the space.Someone who wasn’t part of the extended Hariri or Thompson tribes.

Hell!I don’t care for her.He was attracted.The edginess he felt around her hadn’t subsided in the past five days.Impatient to see her, but he wasn’t going to drool or grovel.She’d made no move to contact him except to send a text thanking him for Maha’s call.Maha had been equally tight-lipped.

Your friend called in.We chatted about kids’ needs, about space, about activities, about colours, about diet, about sleep, about kids, about security.You know what it’s like.

He had no clue what it was like.

“Hi, Anna, I’ve got to be at Sydney University for a meeting.Can you do Newtown for lunch?I’ve got some designs and ideas to show you, and we can chat about any problems with the contract.”He had thirty minutes, max.I’m mad.Because he wanted to see her smile at him, and go all gooey, like she had when he’d mentioned a rooftop garden.

“You moved fast,” she said, leaving him unsure if she was surprised or pleased.“We’ve got copies of the contract.”

“You want fast on this.There’s a café near the hospital, if that suits?It’s on a bus route from the city.”

“You’ve arranged transport for me?”Now, she sounded pleased.

“Seemed like the thing to do.”

––––––––

Hunter was waitingwhen she stepped off the bus.“Thanks for coming here, when you’ve probably got back-to-back meetings of your own.”

“This is a priority.I can work later.”She fell into step with him as they passed the hospital entrance.She was wearing a skinny trouser suit, her jacket ending at mid-thigh.Rich burgundy, with some sort of lemon concoction for a shirt.She looked professionally delicious.Leaning closer, he caught a whiff of flowers and citrus.Different to their night out, still, it made him want to nuzzle against her throat to untangle her scent and taste.

“Hey, you.”

Hunter heard the guttural demand before he saw the speaker.The owner had a craggy, beaten-up face atop a wizened body.Perched in a hospital wheelchair, he was parked beside the stone fence bordering the hospital grounds.His carer, if he had one, was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, you.”The voice was louder, deeper, more intent on catching his attention.

“You mean me?”Hunter pointed toward himself.

“Yeah,” the man said.“Come here.”

“Excuse me,” Hunter said to Anna.“What’s up?”he asked the patient as he drew closer.

“I’ve dropped me cigarette.Pick it up for me.Please?”His cigarette had fallen between his legs and rolled under the wheelchair.

Hunter bent, picked it up, and handed it to the old man.

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