Page 59 of Ordinary Girl

I’m stopped from delving any further into those thoughts: there’s movement in the Hawks’ compound. Linus Bagdonas and the Hawks’ President, Rollo Dresden are deep in conversation as they walk to what I’m assuming is Linus’ car. A black Mercedes MPV, not exactly inconspicuous. They stop.Shake hands. Then Rollo heads back inside while Linus climbs into the car. I get ready to follow him.

He drives out of the compound, turns left, he’s heading back toward town. I keep a safe distance, although the choice of car over bike will mean it’ll be easier to remain unnoticed. But this was still a risk. One we have to take.

I hang back, keeping him just within sight. He’s heading toward the suburbs, and as we leave the town behind us the traffic becomes a little less sparse, meaning I have to be more careful, I really can’t risk losing him. Or letting him know he’s being followed. It doesn’t matter anyway, I know exactly where he’s going.

The black MPV turns into a street lined with neat, red-brick houses, not that different to many other streets around here. This is where Ana and Sofia used to live, in the house Emil Renard bought not that long ago. And it’s the timing of all of this that isn’t sitting right with me. From what we know, he bought the house almost as soon as it went on the market. And he bought it cash. It was like he had to have it, no matter what, but why?

Bagdonas pulls up outside the house, gets out of the car, locks it and walks up the shrub-lined path to the front door, which is opened before he has a chance to knock or use a key. And it’s Renard himself who ushers him inside without a word, closing the door behind them. I’m not going to find out much at all this way, Renard’s too good at keeping a low profile. But something really doesn’t feel right, about any of it. Aligning himself with the Hawks, for whatever reason; his desperate need to have this house… and it’s the house that’s giving me the most unease: giving me a reason to think something we should’ve realized sooner. We should’ve put two and two together, sooner, and I might still be wrong, but… Emil Renard. Could he be Ana’s estranged father…?

Twenty-Five

Ana

Tossing my head back, I stare into the mirror and run my hands through my newly-dyed hair. I look different, with black hair. And that’s exactly what I’d needed, to look different. To leave behind the woman I’d once been, because she can’t handle this shit. She doesn’t want to. This new me, though, she can try. Maybe she’ll be better at it.

Heading back into the bedroom, I look at the clothes I bought yesterday, on a trip into town with Freja. I couldn’t go alone, they still won’t let me. I’m hoping that’ll change, I just need to give them more reasons to trust me. That’s what Cady said. I think she might be right.

I pick up the faux-leather black pants, remembering how cool they’d felt against my skin when I’d tried them on in the store. Freja had said they’d suited me, and I’d agreed with her. They cling to me, so tight they show every curve, although, those curves are less prominent these days. Freja also told me I need to eat more, which I probably do. I’m thinner than I’d like to be, but for a time food hadn’t been all that important. A lot of my priorities are changing now.

I sit down on the bed, smiling as I look at the high-heeled, knee-high boots that I would never have worn before. The old me, she’d always been more of a T-shirt and sneakers kind of girl. The black lace cami-top lying next to me on the bed, she wouldn’t have worn that, either. But, teamed with the pants and the boots, it’s something the new me would definitely wear. Coming out of my comfort zone is a necessity. I can’t think likeI used to, it doesn’t work, doesn’t help, it isn’t an option, not anymore.

Standing up, I wriggle into the figure-hugging pants, slip on the top, and pull on the boots. I run a brush through my newly-dyed hair and check my makeup. Gone is the minimal mascara and a touch of pink lip gloss, now it’s all smoky black shadow, liquid eye-liner and pale lips. I look different. Feel different. Job done.

“Are you off to the clubhouse?” Freja asks as I come into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

I nod. “Is that okay?”

She looks at me as she wipes her hands on a tea towel. “You suit it, the darker hair.”

She’s not in the least bit surprised by my new look, she doesn’t question or judge and I love that about her. She lets me be me, whoever that is right now. I still need to find out for sure. “Thank you.”

“I’ll just go call the clubhouse. Get someone to come pick you up.”

I lean back against the wall and sigh quietly, but I can’t fight this. I tried, and it didn’t work. I just have to hope that the more reasons I give them to trust me, the more freedom they’ll let me have.

“Jep’s on his way,” Freja says, coming over to me and tucking my hair behind my ear. She’s done her best to be a mom figure for me, but nobody will ever be that. Nobody could ever replace my mama. “You look beautiful. So you be careful, okay? These men, they’re not all bad, but they need watching.”

“I can look after myself.”

Freja smiles. “I know you can. But you’ve been through a lot.”

I look out of the window, hoping Jep won’t be too long. “Can I go visit her? My mama?” I turn my head to look back at Freja. “Can I go visit her grave?”

It’s the first time I’ve wanted to do that. Before, it all felt too raw. It was too soon. Too painful. But now, I think it would give me strength, to go to her. Talk to her.

“Of course you can.” Freja throws me another kind smile. “You sure you’re ready to do that now?”

“I’m ready.”

I’m facing up to a lot of things I refused to face up to before, because I need to do that. Burying my head in the sand, or just assuming I can do something because I want to do it, that wasn’t working.

I hear a bike pull up outside and I grab my jacket and head for the door. “I’ll be back later.”

“Be careful, Ana!” Freja shouts after me.

Jep throws me a helmet and I pull it on and climb onto the bike, holding onto the grabrail behind me as we pull away and speed off toward the clubhouse. It’s a short journey, less than ten minutes, and it isn’t until we pull up inside the compound, and I climb off the bike and take off the helmet, that Jep notices I look different.

“You done something to your hair?” he asks, frowning slightly.

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