39. Hawk
My car rolled up to the gate, the tall marble columns on either side holding ornate carvings of cherubs or some shit. I wasn’t actually sure what they were; all I knew was as I leaned out the window to press the button, a fat, angry looking baby stared back at me from above the speaker.
“Who goes there?” came a haughty British voice when I’d pressed the call button for the third time.
“Hawk Jameson.”
“Was the master of the house expecting you?” she inquired, and I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my fuckin’ brain.
“Not unless he’s a goddamn psychic.”
There was a pause, and I stared at the fisheye lens, hoping my expression conveyed how thrilled I was with the fact that this woman was making an already uncomfortable situation pretty close to unbearable.
Although, it was hardly her fault that Lewis had become a pretentious bitch in the last few years, purchasing this ridiculous monstrosity of a home in Bel Air like he was the Fresh Prince or some shit. Turning my attention to the house still hidden behind the wrought-iron gate, I could see that it was stupid big, standing at least three stories tall, it had several columns across the front, making it look like it was a Greek temple instead of an L.A. show piece. There were several balconies that I could see, and those tall, skinny trees growing at even intervals really finished off the wannabe Euro look.
It was stupid, but it wasn’t my house, so what the fuck did I care, really?
After what felt like forever, but was probably only ten minutes, the buzzer finally sounded and the gate before me slowly rolled open, allowing me to drive through.
Parking at the bottom of the stairs—next to the fuckin’ fountain—I got out of the car and stared up at the house my divorce settlement had purchased.
Fucking hell.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. The condescending tone of his voice made me want to get right back in my car and drive away, and I hadn’t even laid eyes on the man yet.
“This must be my lucky day if the great Hawk Jameson has descended from on high to mingle with us commoners.”
“Hey, Lewis,” I muttered patiently, lifting my gaze to look at him. He stood at the top of the stairs, wearing flowing linen pants and a blood red silk robe knotted loosely at the waist, and nothing else. His feet and his chest were both bare, a host of terrible tattoos on display. His hair was loose and hanging carelessly around his shoulders, and he had a martini glass in one hand, a pair of designer sunglasses in the other.
“Hey? We haven’t spoken in nearly five years, and the only thing I get from you is hey? That was hardly worth leaving my lounge chair for, was it?”
“Can I come in, Lewis? There’re some things I want to talk to you about.”
He stared at me, and I could tell he was pissed off that I wasn’t giving him the reaction he had hoped for, but I had more important things to accomplish than fighting like we were kids again. Finishing the last of his drink in one large swallow, Lewis stared at me for a moment longer, then nodded briskly and spun around, his bare feet slapping on the tiles as he led me inside.
“I was in the middle of something,” he called over his shoulder, leading me through the grand foyer and farther into the house, passing a kitchen that had three staff members bustling around furiously, each one of them wearing an honest to god French maid uniform.
It was likely no coincidence that they were all young, gorgeous, and busty.
Who the fuck did this guy think he was, Hugh Hefner?
We finally ended up seated around a huge marble table in the backyard, an ornate shade structure overhead keeping the sun off the area, as Lewis placed his sunglasses back on his face and assessed me.
“I wondered how long it would take you to come crawling back to me,” he began, holding his empty glass out to the side. Like magic, one of the kitchen staff appeared, replacing it with a full one and disappearing back inside as though she had never even been there. “I’m surprised you came alone, to be honest.” Taking a slurping drink, Lewis made a show of stirring his martini with his olive stick before he went on. “You three always did exist to jerk each other off. I would have thought that this would be no different.”
“What is it you think this is, exactly?” I asked, curious. He seemed way too fucking confident, considering the role he’d played in the end of fucking everything. That could only mean that Tori had been spewing her bullshit in his ear, telling him all about how he was the wronged party, and I was the one that had kept them apart all those years. As if she hadn’t done everything in her goddamn power to trap me and tie me to her in a neat little bow.
It was a shame that her entire house of cards had come tumbling down around her head.
“This is you, telling me what an asshole you’ve been. Telling me all about how you’re lost without me, and how Black Kite is desperate to have me back.” Lifting the toothpick, Lewis plucked one of the olives off with his teeth, chewing loudly before swallowing and grinning at me like a maniac. “I am just not sure I want to come back to Black Kite, Hawk. I’ve got some really awesome stuff in the works right now, and I don’t know how I could possibly fit in recording with you guys around all the other things I have goin’ on.”
That was a whole pile of assumptions, considering I hadn’t said a thing to him about any of it.
I just stared, wondering how long he’d known about the fact that we needed two songs to complete the album and what part he and Tori may have played in making that a requirement.
The whole thing was starting to smell fishy, and I was just about done with it all.
“You’re right about one thing, Lewis,” I said, and he sat up a bit straighter, his interest piqued. “I am here to tell you what an asshole I’ve been.” He sneered at me, scratching at the sunburn on his chest as he waited for me to finish. “I got with Tori for no other reason than to piss you off. It was shitty of me, and I wish I’d never done it.”
More than anything, I wish I’d never gone anywhere near that viper of a woman. She’d brought me nothing but trouble since the moment I’d laid eyes on her.
“But that’s all I’ve got to say.” He frowned, confused, and that made me certain that Tori had told him to expect me. That bitch; she was doing the same shit to him that she’d done to me all those years ago. “Black Kite is not desperate to have you back, but that’s mostly because I don’t believe you ever really wanted to be there in the first place. You played with us when we were kids because there were no other options, not where we grew up. But we were never friends, Lewis. Not really.” He clenched his jaw, his lip curling in a sneer as I spoke, but he didn’t deny any of it. “You always treated us as your steppingstone. The first stop on your way to a situation where you could be the star. The front man. The one calling the shots.” His fist clenched now, too, the stem of the martini glass likely straining under the pressure. “I came here today to tell you that we are going in a different direction, Alex and Gavin and I. And where we’re going, we won’t be needing you. So go on and chase whatever it is you have going on. Seriously. And I wish you the best. I’m sorry for the part I played in all the shit that happened between us. But this is where it ends, Lewis. You got the girl. I got my freedom. It’s over.”
I stood, ready to leave and never look back, but Lewis wasn’t having it.
“The fuck you mean, it’s over?” he raged, throwing the now empty glass to the side. I flinched slightly as it shattered, feeling bad for the poor girl who was going to have to clean that up. “This isn’t over. Nothing is over. You need me to finish the album. You need me!”
“We need a bassist, Lewis, but it most certainly doesn’t have to be you. Once we finish these final two songs, that will be the last thing Castor Records can squeeze out of us. You and Tori can ride off into the sunset like you always dreamed. Where is she, anyway?” I asked. I’d have expected her to have shown her face by now, spewing her bullshit and trying to get under my skin.
“With her tennis coach,” he muttered, petulant, and I wondered if he was aware that she was still terrible at tennis after taking lessons for the last eight years because she was too busy getting dicked by her coach to ever pick up a racket.
From the look on his face, he was well aware.
“Well, you’ll have to give her my regards,” I said sarcastically, heading for the house.
“You know what, Hawk? Fuck you.” Stalking after me, Lewis started shouting, his words echoing off the empty walls of his giant house as he trailed after me. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come in here and make me the fucking bad guy in all of this. I saw her first, you know? Before you ever even laid eyes on Victoria, I’d seen her. Wanted her. She was mine from the beginning and you had to go and fuck it all up!”
Standing in the foyer of the grand house I knew Victoria had insisted on when they’d gotten married, I finally turned to him, seeing the guy I’d called a friend reduced to a screaming banshee over a woman who was so goddamn fickle, she couldn’t even pick one person to cheat with; she had to have a whole stable of boy toys that she rotated on a weekly basis.
“Lewis,” I said gently, my shoulders slumping. “She’s not worth it, man.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he snarled. “She’s worth everything.”
I could see it then, for the first time. Looking at the man I’d known nearly my whole life, a man I’d grown up with and traveled the world with, I could see that he really believed that. To him, Victoria Castor was worth everything she had cost him.
“I hope it works out for you guys, Lewis. I really do.”
And with that, I turned and left, closing yet another door and at the same time feeling like the whole world was wide fucking open.