Page 20 of Songbird: Black Kite
The door to my study swung open, and there she stood, dressed to kill as always and looking like the devil herself.
Victoria Castor.
My ex-wife.
“Hawk,” she said, her sugar-sweet tone not matching the disdainful sneer on her perfectly painted lips. “I’d heard a rumor you’d become a drunk and a hermit, but I didn’t think I’d have to add hoarder to that list as well.”
“What are you doing here, Tori?” I asked, not bothering to acknowledge her comment as I gently set Wren’s letter on the desk in front of me. I’d already placed the envelope into the drawer earlier, tucking it safely away with the other one while I’d read.
“Daddy sent me over here to check on you,” she said, picking her way across the room, dodging the stacks of half-sorted boxes of letters and dropping herself down in the chair in front of my desk.
“No, I mean what are you doing in my house?”
“It wasourhouse for a long time, Hawk,” she said patiently, like I was the unreasonable one.
“But it’s not anymore, and I don’t appreciate you just waltzing in like you belong here. You don’t have the right. Haven’t for a long time.”
“Oh, please, Hawk. Enough with the dramatics.” She waved a hand through the air, dismissing my words without a care. “I’m here for business, not to rehash our old drama.”
“With you, Tori, everything is drama.”
She paused, eyeing me.
“Alright, that’s probably true, but you used to like it.”
“I used to like a lot of things that weren’t good for me,” I shot back, and she pressed her lips into a flat line. “But I’m learning that I can do a lot of things better in my life, and not putting up with your shit anymore is one of them.”
“You still work for me,” she pressed, her voice dropping into the modulated tone she used when she was really fuckin’ pissed at me.
“I worked for your father, not you. He had no right to place you as our handler, not with all the shit that was happening between us at the time.”
“It’s not Daddy’s fault you can’t keep business and pleasure separate,” she hissed, and I smirked at her.
“Right, because you were so fucking good at that.”
“What happened between me and—”
“Save it, Tori,” I cut her off, raising my hand. “I have no desire to discuss the same old shit with you. It doesn’t change a goddamn thing. Now, what the hell do you want?”
“You owe us an album.”
“I do fucking not.”
“You do. You signed a contract for four albums, and you only ever delivered three.Castor Recordswants the final album, or you’ll be sued for breech of contract.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, Victoria!” I roared, standing from my chair and raking my fingers through my hair. “We gave them that album years ago. It’s not our fault he never released it.”
“You gave them an incomplete album, Hawk. Daddy wants the rest.”
“How the fuck do you figure it’s incomplete?” I’d poured my fucking soul into those songs. When shit was hitting the fan, that had been the only way I could cope. I hated every second of writing it, and recording it had been even worse.
But we’d done it because Mick said that getting out of it would cost us a fucking fortune, so it was either make the record or go fuckin’ broke.
Once that had been finished, I’d walked away, never once looking back atCastor Recordsor the disaster that had been my time there.
So this? This was fucking insanity.
“The album is only ten songs, Hawk.”
