Fix You (5 page)

He took the opportunity to muse. “In that case, let me take
you out to dinner before you leave. You show me your world and I’ll show you
mine.”

“Okay, Henry Higgins, dinner it is. Do your worst.”

RICHARD WATCHED HANNA charming her way
into the Mercury Lounge, despite having no valid ID and being underage. He
couldn’t help but be impressed by the way she played the security staff with
her engaging banter, sweet smiles, and tales of being an English journalist.

“Are you coming?” She turned around to Richard, her cheeks
flushed with cold, her eyes sparkling under the lights of the entrance.

“Right behind you.”

Following Hanna into the main music area, all of his senses
were attacked by the atmosphere—the cacophony of the crowd, the smoky smell of
the air, the feeling of the floor sticking to the soles of his feet. He could
even taste the excitement in the room as the throng of people milled about
waiting for the band to come on stage. There had to be at least three hundred
people all squashed in together.

“What’s the band called again?” Richard asked. Hanna grabbed
his hand to pull him farther forward.

“The Strokes. They’re a five piece garage band. Lots of buzz
going on around them.”

Three members of the band walked onto the stage to a loud
roar of applause from the audience. Richard could tell his ears were going to
be ringing by the end of the evening. His t-shirt was already starting to feel
moist. The wet heat of the room was even making Hanna’s hair frizz a little. It
looked good on her.

Glancing up at the stage, his eyebrows rose in surprise and
he leaned in to whisper in Hanna’s ear.

“You know, I recognize at least two of the band members.”

Hanna’s head whipped around to look at him, and he gave her
a shit-eating smirk.

“Really?” She looked at him skeptically.

“Seriously, I recognize them from Dwight. Definitely
prep-school boys.”

“Just goes to show that even prep-boys can be reformed. So
when do I get to see you in a band?”

Richard chuckled, taking a sip from his beer bottle. Hanna
looked on enviously. Without an ID, she was stuck with soda.

“If you heard my singing voice, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

As they talked, the band was still wandering about the
stage, doing last minute checks.

“So what are you planning to do after graduation?” Hanna
asked.

“A couple of us are planning to move out to California. A
friend and I have some plans for an internet start-up.”

Another member of the band walked onto the stage to
rapturous applause. Richard waited for the clapping and cheering to die down
before he continued. Instead, any noise he made was obliterated by the opening
chords of the first song. The crowd started moving, forcing them toward the
stage. There was no resisting the surge pushing them forward, and Richard
glanced at Hanna in alarm, worried she would be trampled in the rush.

Looking back at him, she grinned widely. “Isn’t this
fantastic?”

Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips plump and glossy. She
wasn’t wearing much make-up—a contrast to the Hanna he had met nearly a year
ago—but she still looked stunning. He noticed a few guys looking at her as she
pushed her way past them. It was hard to keep the smug smile off his face when
he saw their disappointment, realizing she was with him.

He had to admit the band was good. As they launched into
their next track, it was like they were casting a spell over the audience,
bewitching them as they sang along and danced madly to the music.

The people behind them were still moving forward, forcing
Richard and Hanna apart from each other as the wave crashed toward the edge of
the room. He grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her back toward him, circling
his arms around her so he could keep her safe.

He couldn’t decide where to put his hands. Her waist seemed
too familiar, too sexual. If he held on to her hips and felt her ass against
him, he was pretty sure he would lose his mind. He settled on the relative
safety of her upper arms, trying to keep the fabric of her t-shirt between his
hands and her skin. But she was moving too much, grinding her body to the beat
of the music. He took a half step backwards, removing his crotch from the
danger zone. He didn’t want to be accused of liking the band
that
much.

Hanna turned her head and tried to shout something to him. The
noise of the band, and the calls of the crowd, drowned her words out.

“What?” Two small lines formed between his eyebrows as he
tried to concentrate on her mouth.

“I said this is my favorite song.”

“What’s it called?” They were still mouthing words at each
other. To try and actually vocalize would have been futile.

“
Last Night
.” She whipped her head around as the
guitarists played the instrumental bridge, the discordant sound of the bassist’s
chords jarring against the melodic notes of the lead guitar. The lead singer
opened his mouth, his voice a deep echo as his lips moved closely against the
microphone, his eyes closed as he sang the words.

The crowd was going absolutely wild, the fast tempo of the
track leading them to jump up and down as one. Those unfortunate enough not to
join in were starting to panic, feeling themselves being dragged under. Richard
moved his arms until they were tightly clutching Hanna’s waist. He didn’t care
about his reaction to her body, he just wanted to keep her safe.

Leaning back into him, her hands clutched his arms as they
moved together, submitting themselves to the will of the crowd.

It was electrifying.

After the show, Hanna tried to grab a few minutes with the
band. It was clear they were on the cusp of something big, and the other
journalists there also wanted to get their pound of flesh.

 “Are you ready to go?” Richard glanced at his watch. It was
nearly midnight. When he picked Hanna up earlier, he’d promised her father he
wouldn’t keep her out too late.

“Yes, I think so.” She was still giddy, on a high from the
stimulating atmosphere of the gig. He could feel her trembling next to him.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you liked them.”

“I absolutely loved them, I can’t wait to write about it. I
just hope my article isn’t too sycophantic,” she said. They walked side by side
out of the hot, sweaty bar, and into the cold night.

Coming to an abrupt halt, they both noticed the change as
soon as their feet hit the sidewalk.

While they were watching the band, New York had transformed
itself into a Winter Wonderland.

The streets and cars were blanketed with a soft, fluffy
layer of bright white snow. The only blemish on the pale landscape was the
black footprints of the revelers who had left the concert.

“It’s snowing!” Hanna’s face was bright, her smile wide as
she looked up to the sky and saw the over-sized flakes slowly floating their
way down to the ground. “Oh my God, Richard, look!”

She reminded him of Ruby with her child-like excitement. She
twirled around, her head still raised to the sky. He watched as she opened her
mouth, poking her pink tongue out, trying to capture a snowflake on its
surface.

“I noticed,” he deadpanned. A lifetime of New York winters
had somewhat inured him to the pleasures of a wintry storm.

“Aren’t you excited? We can make snowmen and snow angels.
You might even get a snow day. Doesn’t everything sound so much better if you
put ‘snow’ in front of it?”

“Like snow-bound, or snow-blind?”

Hanna rolled her eyes. “It’s like being in the most
beautiful city in the world with Ebenezer Scrooge. Where’s your enthusiasm?”
She pulled away from him, running her hands through the snow that had fallen on
the wall adjacent to the club.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you. Perhaps the ghost of Christmas
Past will help me mend my ways.”

“Or maybe a snowball will help?” Her aim was magnificent.
The cold ball hit him right in the chin, breaking on impact, the icy snow dust
falling down onto his neck.

He ran toward her, scooping some snow up with his hand from
the wall as he approached.

“No!” she squealed, trying to run away from him as he
approached her menacingly, but only managing to slip and slide on the frozen
slabs. “Please don’t!”

“I thought you said everything was better with snow in front
of it?” He was pulling at the neck of her t-shirt now, trying to shove his handful
of snow down it as she wriggled, protested, and begged.

“I didn’t mean it, please don’t!” Her voice was a mixture of
panic and giggles. She grabbed hold of his wrist, moving it away from her chest
and trying to make his hand release the snow.

Suddenly, they were standing close. Too close. He realized
that most of his body was in contact with hers. She was looking up at him, her
face flushed with cold, her lips bright pink and slightly open. Her eyes
captured his. He wondered what she would do if he leaned forward and pressed
his mouth against hers.

Then he shook his head, realizing how stupid it was. She was
younger than him, lived thousands of miles away. Thinking of her as anything
other than a friend was more than foolish.

“Let’s get you home.” He flashed her a quick smile, stepping
away to put some distance between them.

She looked confused for a moment, then straightened herself,
shaking the snow from her hair. “Okay.”

AFTER DROPPING HANNA at her father’s
apartment, Richard decided to sleep at the townhouse, rather than make the
journey uptown to his dorm. The lights were still blazing in the Maxwell
household; both Leon and Caroline were night owls, and rarely retired to bed
before the early hours of the morning. His mother had the luxury of being able
to lie in bed until late, while Leon just needed very little sleep.

“Richard, darling. What a lovely surprise.” His mother
placed her wine glass on a side table. Rising up from her chair, she walked
over to him. She offered him her cheek, and he inclined his head to kiss her. “I
wasn’t expecting you.”

“I was in the area. I thought I’d sleep here tonight.”

As she pulled back from their embrace, Caroline did a double
take. “What on earth are you wearing, darling? Where have you been?”

“I was watching a band play in a bar, over on the lower east
side.”

“Why? Who were you with?”

“Hanna Vincent.”

“Do I know her parents?” Always the same question.

“She’s Philip Vincent’s daughter.”

Caroline stared up at him, her forehead wrinkled in
confusion. “But his daughters are only nine or ten, darling.”

Richard laughed out loud at the thought of taking Hanna’s
sisters to the Mercury Lounge. “His other daughter, from his first marriage.”
Richard walked over to the drink cabinet and poured himself a tumbler of
whisky. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.

 “Now there was a woman who didn’t know how to conduct
herself. My God, poor Philip, she was such an embarrassment to him.” The tone
of Caroline’s voice was derisory as she made her feelings toward Hanna’s mother
abundantly clear.

“You knew her well?” Richard asked skeptically. His mother
seemed to “know” everybody.

“We sat on some of the same committees. She was forever
turning up late, or not at all. And the clothes she wore, oh my goodness, they
were so inappropriate.”

Richard took another sip of whisky, not really sure what to
say to his mother. She was on a roll, and he let himself fall back onto the
sofa, deciding that if he had to listen to her tirade, he may as well do it in
comfort.

“So, what is her daughter like? Does she take after Philip
or Diana?” she asked.

There was nothing left but to swallow the lot. Richard
tipped his head back and let the amber fluid slide down his throat, burning as
it went down. “I’m not sure she’s like either of them. She’s an original.” He
was wracking his brain to think of a suitable way to divert his mother. He wasn’t
sure he liked where this conversation was headed. “Where’s Leon tonight?”

“He and Daniel went out for dinner. Leon wanted to do the
father-son thing. Daniel has been in trouble at school.”

“Trouble?” Richard seized upon his mother’s tangent.

“He’s been cutting lessons. His GPA is reaching rock bottom.
It’s going to take a lot of funding to get him into Columbia.”

Funding meant bribery. Leon Maxwell usually got what he
wanted, even if he had to grease the wheels a little first. Richard was
relieved his own acceptance to Columbia had required no such help from his
stepfather.

Not that he was surprised to hear about Daniel’s troubles;
the kid was a walking disaster. He was a boy with a sizeable drug habit, and an
even bigger bank balance. With such unlimited access to funds, the only
intervention Richard could see working would be to cut him off without a dime.

“We’ve been invited to Henry Jones’s wedding in October. Are
you going to be around?”

Richard sighed. They’d had this conversation so many times,
but every time he tried to explain to Caroline she cut him off, telling him she
didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m planning to have moved out to San Francisco by then.”

The tightness of her lips as she glanced over at him made
him want to roll his eyes.

“Leon really wants you to join him at Maxwell Enterprises.
You’ve a guaranteed job there, and maybe one day you could take the helm.” Her
voice was clipped, her tone disapproving.

“Maxwell Enterprises is all Daniel’s. You know I have no
interest in working there.” Richard fought the urge to shake some sense into
her. “John and I have set everything up. We’re moving out west in September.”

Five

May 24
^th
2001

I
t had been a hideous week. Instead of
sitting out in the beautiful spring weather, Hanna had been buried in the
library beneath books trying to cram for her end-of-term exams. The previous
day, she’d had a phone call from Ruby—who had been asked to her school disco by
a boy, only to discover that he had done it for a bet. Hanna had been unable to
soothe her young friend, eventually resorting to calling Richard to ask him for
advice.

To top it all off, Josh-bloody-Chambers had cut her article
to shreds, and put it at the back of the magazine. She wanted to rip his throat
out and feed it to the ducks swimming in the university pond.

She ignored the curious stares from her fellow students,
pushing past them, as she made her way to the magazine office. She was a girl
on a mission. A Josh-bloody-Chambers gutting mission.

Ignoring the greetings of her friends, she stalked straight
across the floor to the closed door of the editor’s office. Curling her hand
around the stainless steel handle, she twisted it sharply, pulling the door
toward her in a jerking movement. It banged against the wall, making everyone
turn to look at her.

Josh was sitting on the corner of his desk, talking to the
pictures editor, while going through her portfolio of photographs.

“Hanna, I wasn’t expecting you. Can this wait?” It wasn’t
really a question, more a command. She chose to ignore it.

“It can’t wait. Would you excuse us, Ciara?” It was all she
could do to keep her tone civil, even with the pictures editor, who had never
done anything to inflame Hanna’s ire. “I need to talk to you now, Josh.” Her
copy of the magazine was rolled up in her hands. She shook it at him.

“Can you give us a minute please, Ciara?”

“Sure, no problem.” Ciara gathered all her photographs up at
top speed. She looked eager to get out of the room, away from the toxic
atmosphere.

Josh remained silent as Ciara left, closing the door behind
her. He was staring at Hanna through narrowed eyes.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me why the hell I should listen
to anything you have to say after that performance?”

Anger curled in her belly. “I don’t expect anything from
you. You don’t even have the guts to tell me you’ve edited my articles to
shreds. I thought you had more class than that.” She threw the magazine on his
desk, narrowly missing his thigh.

“Your article was crap. There were typos, grammatical
errors, and—worst of all—it bored me.”

It was like a punch to the stomach. Her reaction was to
fight back.

“It was a good article. You just don’t know how to edit.”

“Don’t push me.” He leaned toward Hanna, his height
dominating hers. She fought off the temptation to cower away.

“Then don’t cut my words.” Her heart was beating fast,
fuelled by adrenaline and indignation. “And I’ll push you if I want to.” As if
to demonstrate it, she poked her index finger into the middle of his chest.

Josh grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. “You’re
sailing close to the line. Stop acting like a child.”

“Stop treating me like one.”

His lips came crashing down on hers, his hand pulling at the
hair on the back of her head, his whole body shaking violently. He was standing
right in front of her, pulling her closer until her legs were wrapped around
his waist. She could feel he was hard already. She wondered whether he had been
like that for a while—if he had been turned on by her extreme anger. Then he
opened his mouth and slid his tongue against hers. Hanna curled her hand around
the back of his head, trying to pull him closer. She wanted to lose herself in
him.

“Am I treating you like a child now?” Josh moaned into her
mouth, causing her legs to tremble as she tried to grind herself even harder.
Inappropriate wasn’t strong enough to describe the levels they had stooped to.

Breathless, Hanna moved her head back, gasping for air as
Josh stared down at her.

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

Her heart thumped harder. She wanted to reach out and
rearrange his hair, move it out of his eyes so she could see their piercing
blueness. His light-grey t-shirt was lopsided on his body, exposing the right hand
side of his shoulder. She felt the sudden urge to touch it.

 “This is all a bit
Woman of the Year
isn’t it?” She
tried to bring levity to their situation. 

“A bit what?” His brows dipped in confusion.

“It’s a film starring Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn.
They’re feuding journalists who eventually get marri—” Hanna stopped suddenly,
embarrassment flooding her cheeks. She looked down at the floor avoiding his
gaze and mumbled, “It doesn’t matter.”

Josh let out a short laugh, his cheeks puffing up in
amusement. “How can you annoy the shit out of me in one moment, then make me
laugh like an idiot the next?”

“Pure talent.” She managed to look up from her feet and give
him a small smile. “It’s one of my many amazing attributes.”

“It seems that way. For the record, I think you’re a hugely
talented journalist, and I have no doubt you’ll go far. But you need to be able
to listen to constructive criticism without being a bitch.”

“I know.” It was her turn to rake her fingers through her
own hair in aggravation. “When I looked at the magazine I saw red. I wanted to
rip your balls off.”

“I left you a note on your desk last week to tell you I’d
edited it down. Didn’t you see it?”

“It must have slipped off my desk. Maybe next time you could
tell me face to face?”

“If I promise, will you let me kiss you again?”

“If I let you kiss me again, will you give me the front
page?”

“No.”

“Ah, sod it. It was worth a try, though.” She grinned
impishly at him. He leaned toward her, pressing his mouth against hers. She
closed her eyes and felt their lips move together. He ran the tip of his tongue
along her lips until she parted them, inviting him in.

His hand moved to her neck, stroking down to her shoulders,
then running his index finger down her spine making her body shiver at his
touch. She let out a soft moan against his mouth, causing him to increase the
pressure of his lips and his tongue until she couldn’t think straight any more.