Songbird (Songbird, #1) Read online

  The apartment was small and in need of a makeover, but comfortable and welcoming. There were a few prints hanging around the living room, which added much needed splashes of colour. On one wall was a rogues gallery of black and white photos of Kelli and her long term boyfriend Cooper, a couple of Kelli and her family, who lived in Tasmania, and one of the two of us together. I felt privileged having a picture on Kelli’s wall. I felt like family.

  Looking over the photos of Cooper, I couldn’t help smiling. He would have been the class clown at school, for sure; you could just tell from his cheeky grin and the silly faces he pulled in the black and white shots. The only one where he was not pulling a face was the one of him graduating in full dress uniform from the Military Special Forces Training Centre twelve months ago.

  Since Cooper had joined the military, he and Kelli had moved around a lot, living in Tasmania, Adelaide and then Melbourne. They had only been in Melbourne for a short while when Cooper had transferred to Sydney. Kelli, having grown tired of constantly having to start again, decided to put her foot down and not move with him. But I knew she missed him every day that they were apart, and sometimes questioned her decision. But that was Kelli. She was the most feisty, stubborn person I knew and I loved her for it, all five feet, three inches of her.

  I turned and took a seat on the faded floral couch that, when folded out, would be my bed for the next few weeks. From the couch I could see the entire apartment—three steps to the left was the open-plan kitchen, neat and tidy with colourful cups lined up on the shelf above the bench. I knew from previous visits that the glasses cupboard below the bench got stuck, and needed some encouragement by way of a thump from the inside.

  To my right, maybe five steps away, was the tiny bathroom. Next to the bathroom was Kelli’s room.

  I had packed as many clothes as I could fit, along with a toiletries bag and a couple of pairs of shoes. My iPod Touch and mobile phone, both of which I never went anywhere without, were in my handbag.

  At some stage I would need to go back to the house to pack up my other possessions, although there were not many left after Stephen had decided that most of them were rubbish and had thrown them out.

  I had salvaged and put some into storage but not a lot. The only things left really at the house were small personal items. Not a lot to have amassed over my now twenty-four years.

  Kelli handed me a glass of champagne. “Cheers!” she said with a grin and clinked the glasses. “Here’s to kicking shithead boyfriends to the curb.”

  Smiling, I raised my glass. “Good riddance, Shithead.”

  I crawled into the fold-out bed that night feeling content and a little tipsy. We had sat up drinking champagne until the early hours of the morning, sometimes crying over the uncertainty of my future and the two years of my life I had wasted. But mostly we laughed and planned what I would do next, now that I was a free woman again.

  The sofa bed was nowhere near comfortable. The springs creaked with every movement, the mattress was thin and too short for my five-foot, ten-inch frame, and it was also the happiest I had been in God knows how long. I felt at peace.

  Laying in the dark, looking up at the ceiling, I felt the tears sting my eyes once again. My emotions were all over the place, and the alcohol in my system wasn’t helping.

  I let the tears fall. I was hoping that there were only so many tears you could cry for any situation, so the sooner I let them out the better.

  I had given up my music and my friends to be with Stephen, and now all that sacrifice had been in vain. I was back to square one, single again. But it wasn’t just that; people break up every day. The most devastating thing to me was that I had given up my dream of being a concert pianist, and once you let that dream slide, you can never get it back. I had lost too many hundreds of hours of practicing, lost touch with too many important contacts in the business. The name that I had been slowly forging for myself would have been forgotten by now as new graduates had taken my place.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I swiped the heel of my hand over my cheeks. I had so much to look forward to; I could do anything I wanted because there was no one standing in my way dictating my life to me.

  There, that was better; the tears had stopped again, at least for the time being.

  I went over my list in my head of things I needed to do and then compared the list to Kelli’s, smiling into the darkness. My list was full of practical things: find a place to live, put together a budget—now that I was on my own, my money would have to cover all my expenses. Possibly look for a new job that paid a little better, or find a part-time job to bump up my pocket money. Kelli’s list was simpler: party hard, find a hot, gorgeous man, and have some fun. I must admit, I preferred Kelli’s list.

  In the morning we shared the minimal space of her apartment effortlessly, somehow manoeuvring around the small kitchen and living area like we knew what the other was thinking, and anticipating each other’s actions. Kelli made a pot of coffee while I poured milk over the cereal in our bowls.

  My bed, which was packed back up into a couch, was the only seating in the apartment. So we ate our breakfast on our laps and drank our steaming-hot coffee as we planned our day.

  “I think we should go shopping!” Kelli suggested, her eyes sparkling. “You need a complete makeover. You know, out with the old and drab, and in with the new and sexy.”

  I laughed nervously. “I don’t know, Kell. I think a quiet day of feeling sorry for myself is in order.”

  “Oh rubbish! How are you going to meet a gorgeous man moping around here?” She turned to face me. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve some excitement, some romance, and a hot guy chasing you, and making you feel special.”

  Shrugging at her, I replied, “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

  After the excitement of my escape from Alcatraz last night, I was feeling teary yet again, and just wanted to curl up in a ball and not do anything or go anywhere. I knew leaving had been the right thing to do, no doubt, but as with any major change, it was daunting to think ahead to the future and not be able to visualise anything with certainty. From having my life mapped out for me, I now had no direction.

  I was twenty-four years old and single for the first time in two years, and if I were completely honest, that thought alone scared me to death. What was the dating scene like these days? Did people still meet in bars and clubs? There were so many Internet dating sites now. Is that what I would have to subject myself to? Filling out a questionnaire of my likes, dislikes and favourite colour?

  I cringed; having to make small talk with strangers was one of my least favourite things to do. I always felt so awkward. I poured myself another coffee and wondered as I watched the steam waft above the cup; would anyone want to make small talk with me?

  Stephen had kept me so isolated for the past two years, only associating with his business partners and friends. He had always given me a list of topics to discuss which I had studied up on beforehand. Would I be able to talk to someone unscripted? What if they asked me something I didn’t know the answer to?

  Would I be able to think for myself?

  I waited my turn while Kelli showered and applied her make-up in the bathroom. I looked around again; this place was such a contrast from my previous surroundings. The entire apartment would fit in the master bedroom wing of the house I had shared with Shithead, but it was already feeling more like a home.

  Leaning back into the sagging cushions of the worn couch, I put my feet up on the coffee table, then quickly put them back down again and sat up straight. Stephen would have given me his disapproving look if he had seen me slouching with my feet up on the furniture, but he wasn’t there, was he? I gave myself a little grin and put my feet back up.

  I showered quickly when the bathroom was free, then knelt down on the bedroom floor to unzip my suitcase, looking in at the dark, drab clothes inside. I pulled out a pair of very unflattering black jeans and a loose white long-sleeved T-shirt, the best I cou
ld find amongst the options before me.

  “Okay, Kelli, you win,” I called to her. “Let’s go shopping.”

  It was Saturday morning, and the undercover shopping mall was already buzzing with people going about their business.

  Mothers with children in pushers were chatting happily together over coffee. Teenage girls in groups of three or four window-shopped, eyeing the latest fashions they longed to buy.

  I smiled to myself as I noticed a guy being dragged around the women’s clothing section of the mall. He looked totally bored, like he would rather be anywhere else but here. But as his girlfriend pointed out a pair of stiletto shoes to him in the window of a shoe store, he smiled lovingly at her and nodded his head as she pulled him in. That’s what I had missed. Sure, we had shopped together, but I was never the one making the decisions. It was always him choosing the items, with me submissively agreeing to whatever he thought was best because my opinion was deemed irrelevant.

  How did I become this ghost of a person?

  Kelli snapped me out of my daze with a tug on my arm. “This way,” she said, pulling me towards the most brightly lit store in the mall.

  She merrily went about, taking nearly every dress, skirt and top off the racks as I stood there slowly taking in the fashion. It was bright, it was short and probably tight … and I loved it!

  We spent the next hour in that store. I would try something on and self-consciously come out of the change room to show Kelli and ask her opinion.

  “I like it, but what do you think?” she asked, waiting for me to make the final decision on the outfit.

  “I don’t know. Is it too short?” I replied hesitantly.

  I was trying on a very daring fire-engine red cocktail dress. It was one-shouldered, fitted, and because of my long legs, it came halfway up my thighs. It was something that I may have worn two years ago, but would never have been allowed to wear recently.

  “Oh wow!” I heard a voice exclaim. “You look gorgeous, you have to buy it.”

  Turning, I expected to see the sales assistant trying to coax me into a sale that I probably shouldn’t make. But instead saw another girl, checking her reflection in the mirror.

  “If I had legs like yours I’d be showing them off every chance I got,” she added, looking at her own shorter legs.

  Smiling at her, I looked down at the dress. “Thanks. You don’t think it’s too short … or tight?”

  “No way. You should see the clothes my friend is trying on. That dress is tame compared to some of her choices.”

  Just then, her friend emerged from the next change room, very boldly modelling a leopard print mini-skirt and black halter-top. For me it would have been way too much, but on her, it looked like it belonged. Her confidence shone through as she strutted her stuff for anyone who was looking.

  She looked approvingly at me. “Hey, you look great. You should try this outfit on. It would look amazing on you.”

  I smiled shyly and turned to look at myself in the full-length mirror. I had a reasonably good figure, with long, shapely legs and a decent cleavage. My hair was long and thick, and I had a fairly pretty face. If you broke it down, I guess I was not that unattractive, but it was my pale blue eyes that betrayed me and showed my lack of confidence.

  While the time with Shithead had not changed the shape of my face or the fullness of my lips, it had almost taken the spark from my eyes.

  Almost.

  If not for that tiny light that refused to die, I would have become his version of a Stepford wife.

  Kelli stepped towards me, no doubt knowing what was going through my mind.

  I looked down at my brown-eyed, freckle-faced best friend beside me. “What happened to me?” I asked softly.

  “Shithead happened,” she replied matter-of-factly, “that’s what.”

  Kelli and I had only met three months before when she joined the company I work for, so she had not known the real me—the me before him. But as we got to know each other over lunch each day, I started to open up to her about my suffocating relationship, and she became more determined to support me when the time came for me to leave it.

  Kelli had quickly become my confidant and best friend. She was the one person I had in my life who I could be honest with. The one person who didn’t judge me when tears ran down my cheeks, either from pouring my heart out, or laughing my head off. She was also the only person who encouraged me to see the good in myself, and slowly, over time, the light had started to return to my eyes.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked, beaming at me.

  “I’ll take it, and all the others … if you really think they look okay?” I added.

  Kelli had been right; I did need a makeover, and the first step was getting rid of the drab clothes that Stephen had bought me. I needed to wipe away all the changes he had made so I could find the me I used to be underneath.

  Kelli gave a little cheer and turned toward the change room to gather up the outfits I’d tried on.

  TWO HOURS later, we were sitting down in the crowded food court, enjoying our coffee and taking a much-needed rest. We were surrounded by the spoils of our shopping expedition when Kelli looked up, head slightly tilted to one side, appraising me.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really need to do something with your hair.”

  My long, straight hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, my usual no-fuss hairstyle, and I was now pulling the length over my shoulder, examining the ends.

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” I asked a little sullenly. “I thought it was my best feature.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your hair. It’s thick and healthy—I’d kill for your hair, it’s just a little, well … plain. When was the last time you had it cut and styled?”

  I tried to remember. Apart from a quick trim to neaten up the ends, I hadn’t been to the hairdresser for a full treatment in more than eighteen months.

  Frowning, I looked up at her. “I can’t remember exactly. A while ago, I guess.”

  “Well, that settles it. Finish your coffee and let’s go, I’m taking you to Jason, my hairdresser. He’s fabulous!” She emphasised the word fabulous with a flourish of her hands and I laughed heartily, not the least bit apologetic when the elderly couple at the next table scowled at us.

  Jason’s salon was on the main street, set amongst some older shop fronts that mainly had For Lease signs in their windows. With the introduction of the undercover mall, the smaller boutique businesses couldn’t compete, and one by one, they had closed their doors and moved on.

  As soon as we stepped inside we were transported to another place. The music was pumping as the five hairdressers, all dressed in funky black outfits, flitted around the salon. Two of them were cutting and talking animatedly to their clients, one was washing a teenage boy’s hair at the basins, and the other two were tidying up and sweeping.

  The salon wasn’t busy, but it had a real buzz about it that made me feel a little excited to be a part of it. I looked at the hairdressers more closely, wondering which one was Jason.

  Well, obviously the two girls weren’t he, and I guess the young boy with his bright orange Mohawk who was sweeping was probably not him either. As I studied the faces one by one, I reached the man bent over the basin, efficiently washing the boy’s hair. He turned as I looked his way and I was struck by how attractive he was. Could this be Jason?

  “Kelli!” he exclaimed and strode over to us, leaving the boy leaning back in the basin, shampoo still in hair.

  Yes, this was him, and while he looked fabulous, he didn’t look fabulous! He was tall and well-built, with blond, spiky hair and sparkling blue eyes. He reached us and proceeded to hug Kelli and then kissed both of her cheeks, before transferring his smiling eyes onto me.

  “And who’s this vixen?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Hi, I’m Tara. You must be Jason.”

  I extended my hand in preparation for a handshake but he ignored it, instead pul
ling me in and bending down to kiss my cheeks with the same warmth that he had greeted Kelli.

  He stood back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me guess,” he said taking on an instantly professional tone. “You need a makeover.”

  It wasn’t a question, more a statement. Okay, so maybe I did need to do something with my hair.

  Jason led me over to a vacant seat in front of a mirror, then asked one of the hairdressers to finish washing the teenage boy’s hair at the basin.

  “Do you need to finish doing that?” I asked, indicating to the boy at the basin. “I don’t mind waiting. We don’t have an appointment.”

  He flicked his hand in the air in dismissal. “Don’t be silly. I can’t wait to get at your hair.” He ran his fingers through it and examined the roots. “Beautiful! Just needs some style and some highlights.”

  He quickly turned and pushed through the swinging doors into the tiny back room.

  I smiled a little uncertainly at Kelli; she had taken up the seat next to me, and laughed at my reaction.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll do a great job. He’s a visionary when it comes to hair,” she said, reading my expression.

  For the next two hours I was primped and fussed over to within an inch of my life. Jason decided that I needed highlights a couple of shades lighter than my natural colour, and proceeded to attach pieces of kitchen foil to my head. I then had to sit there for about half an hour while the colour took. But rather than leaving us to do something else, he ran into the shopping mall and came back with three steaming cups of coffee, and a delicious assortment of muffins and cupcakes. We sat together and gossiped while one of his staff gave me a hand massage and manicure.

  Jason really was a fantastic guy, and made me feel like an old friend. I skimmed over the details of my recent breakup and move into Kelli’s apartment, and he promised to keep an eye and an ear out for any potential places that may come up for rent. I then had the colour washed out and a conditioning treatment massaged into my hair and scalp. It was heavenly!

  Then, it was time to cut.

  “So, what do you think you might like?” Jason asked, while quizzically examining my face shape, jawline and neck. “I think you need to keep some length, do you agree?”