Stiletto Safari (23 page)
Authors: Kate Metz
Trish also informed me that Clare Lay had been sacked for “inappropriate Internet usage” and “improper relations with a staff member.” Trish didn’t need to spell it out, it was clear that Harvey & Rose had chosen to keep me over Clare.
After getting off the phone, I sank down on the couch, trying to absorb everything that had just happened. Not only had I been offered a promotion, but I’d all but been handed a fab new job on a silver platter. What more could a girl want?
“Isn’t she beautiful?” My mum placed a tray of cookies and a pot of tea in front of me. She was looking admiringly at the picture of Sasha Friend gracing the cover of
Vogue
. It was infuriating.
“Did you meet her?” my mum carried on innocently.
“Yes—she’s a dumb cow and I hate her,” I vehemently spat. My mum looked quite taken aback by my sudden outburst. For a moment she looked like she was going to say more, but then thought better of it.
After a brief pause she exclaimed, “Well, I’ve got to say, I don’t read
Vogue,
but that article is just the best thing I’ve ever read! We’re so proud of you. What an achievement to be publicly recognized as an inspirational young woman! It’s really wonderful. This is the proudest, happiest moment of my life.” Tears welled in her eyes as she declared this.
It should have been one of the happiest days of my life too, but all I could think about was Hamish. I fantasized about him calling to confess that I was the love of his life and that he couldn’t live without me. But he didn’t. As the days ticked by and Christmas rapidly approached, I stopped lying to myself and acknowledged that I had been nothing more than a rebound fling.
I
t was Christmas Eve, and I’d been roped into helping my parents prepare for their annual Christmas drinks party. I’d spent the entire morning dusting, cleaning, and scrubbing all manner of surfaces. By mid-afternoon I was feeling hot, dirty, and extremely irritable. I wasn’t looking forward to the drinks party one little bit.
“Zara, can you get the door? I’m not quite ready and I don’t know where your father is,” my mum shrilly shouted down the hall.
As if on cue the doorbell rang again.
“But mum, I’m not even dressed,” I screamed back. “I’ve literally just got out of the shower.”
“Zara, I don’t care—just do it, please.”
Super annoyed, I hopped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Dripping water everywhere, I threw open the front door. What did I care if half the neighborhood or my parents’ friends saw me half naked?
“Don’t you ever wear clothes?” a familiar voice accused. Standing in front of me with a huge bunch of long-stemmed red roses was none other than Hamish Walters. His handsome features broke into a wide smile.
I was so shocked I almost dropped my towel. “W-w-what are you doing here?” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Well, let’s see: I’ve traveled halfway around the world to clear up some rather large misunderstandings. That is, if you’ll let me in.”
Almost too late, I realized that I was closing the door on Hamish. He wedged his foot in, trying to keep the door ajar.
“Please, Zara,” he begged. “Let me in. I can explain.”
“Oh, fine—you can come in briefly.” I was too shocked to say anything more.
My legs threatened to give way as I showed Hamish into the sitting room. For a moment I wondered whether I was having an aneurism and if hallucinating was a freaky side effect.
“This explains everything.” Hamish placed a dirty, crumpled piece of paper in my hand. Slowly I unfolded it:
Hamish,
After much sole searching I’ve decided things can’t work between us. Nothing you say will make me change my mind. We’re wrong together.
Zara
“Obviously, I didn’t write this. I mean, as if I’d ever spell “soul” like that.” I pointed accusingly at the note. “I’m not an idiot.”
Hamish laughed. “I was so angry and upset when I got your note that I didn’t even notice the spelling mistake. The writing looks like yours.”
“I told you it’s not mine,” I fumed before adding, “Plus it’s not my fault you’re semi-illiterate.”
“You seemed so angry with me. When I got this, I figured you really hated me and that was it…” Hamish tried to explain.
“What, so you packed up all my things in that stupid box and left it for me to trip over on the basis of this ridiculous, poorly-drafted note?” I finished off, stabbing at him accusingly with my finger. Angrily I crumpled the note in my hand and tossed it at Hamish. “So who wrote this, then?”
“Who do you think? Sasha, of course.”
And suddenly it all made sense: Sasha arriving so late at drinks that night; Sasha being a complete bitch to me, almost as if she knew I was seeing Hamish. She’d obviously read my note and swapped it for the note that was now lying crumpled in Hamish’s hand.
“But I thought you broke up with me because of the, um, unfortunate spying incident.” I said the last bit quickly to gloss over it.
“No, of course not, but we should probably talk about that,” Hamish replied.
“I’d actually rather not; just thinking about that hideous hat causes me physical pain,” I said hotly. “And it wasn’t the e-mails?” I went on.
Hamish rolled his eyes. “No, but we should definitely talk about that too.” He continued, “See, the thing is, Zara, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He put his strong arms around my waist and pulled me close. His beautiful blue eyes searched my face.
Just as his lips were about to brush mine, I pushed him roughly away. “But Hamish, this doesn’t change anything. I saw you and Sasha together, the day I left.”
Hamish looked ready to explode. “We were not together. Zara, you have to believe me. I would never, ever lie to you.”
He tentatively put his arms around me again. I let them rest there while I thought. “Well, why didn’t you call?”
“Believe me, I would have if I thought you’d listen, but I knew you wouldn’t. You can be annoyingly stubborn. Besides, I thought my chances were better if I explained in person.”
“But, how did you find me?” I asked curious.
“Ah,” said Hamish, “that’s where your e-mails came in very handy. I got in touch with Sal and Emi.”
“You’ve been speaking to the girls?” I asked incredulously. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t said anything. Although, thinking back, they had both asked what I was doing on Christmas Eve, which was a little odd.
“Yes,” Hamish responded simply.
Sighing deeply, I said, “There’s just one obvious problem with us getting back together: Sasha Friend is never going to be out of our lives. She’s always going to be this horrid presence making stupid comments to the press…” My voice trailed off.
“No, she’s not,” Hamish said, his eyes twinkling. “She officially hates me.”
“Right. I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but
we’re meant to be together forever
is not generally considered hate speech,” I haughtily replied.
“Ah, but that was before I let the cubs destroy her Birkin.” Hamish laughed heartily, “I did warn her not to take the bag into the shoot, but she didn’t listen. And for some crazy reason she had meat in it. The cubs went crazy trying to get to the meat and ripped her bag to shreds. I didn’t try to stop them. I’d just figured out she’d swapped your note.
“So what do you say, Zara…can we start over?” Hamish asked, earnestly peering down at my face. As if sensing my doubts, he added, “It doesn’t need to be long distance. I’ve just signed a new book deal; I can write anywhere—Melbourne, New York, London, wherever you want to go.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course, Zara; I’d do anything for you. You’re the one that I want.” Hamish reached into his pocket and produced a small box. “An early Christmas present.”
“Is this what I think it is?” I said nervously.
“Probably not.” Hamish winked at me. “Go on—open it.”
With a horrible sense of déjà vu, I opened the box. A small, rusty key fell into my hand.
“A key to your heart?” I snorted.
“Goodness, no; you’d lose it or trample it,” Hamish laughed. “I’m much more practical than that. It’s a key to my apartment in London. I’m serious about this working, Zara. What’s mine is yours. Not that we’ll probably be spending much time in London.”
“Ah, that’s just where you’re wrong,” I remarked, thinking of the resignation e-mail I’d just sent Harvey & Rose. “London suits me just fine.”
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