She had to get away.
Now, before she bawled. Julia bent to grab her purse, her fingers brushing the envelope containing her mother’s letter. Unshed tears—divorce-induced tears—stung her eyes, and she blinked.
“Anyone for another drink?” Julia sprang to her feet, smiling brightly at her three friends while waiting for their reply.
“I’ll take another margarita,” Maggie said, her brown eyes sparkling with happiness, even in the dim light of theCock and Bullpub.
“I shouldn’t,” Susan chimed in then wrinkled her pert, freckled nose. “Oh, what the heck. Me too.”
Christina waggled her empty glass, setting her golden bracelets chattering in a musical tone. “Same again for me, thanks.”
Julia pushed her way through the crowd, scowling at the two suit-wearing buffoons who leered at her boobs. If anything, her repulsion egged them on, their smirks widening with the thrill of the chase.
“Wanna drink, babe?” Mr. Beard asked, waggling his brows in a suggestive manner.
“Blondes with pretty…” Mr. Shaved Head looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her breasts. “…eyes are my favorite. Let’s cut to the chase and go to my place.”
“I’m taken,” she snapped, stomping past. Her loneliness, her rotten taste in men, swirled amongst her concern for her mother. Her soon-to-be divorce. A tear plopped onto her arm. Another struck the hem of her lacey white top. Instead of forcing her way to the bar, she kept walking until she made the relative privacy of the restrooms. By the time the door whooshed shut behind her, tears were falling in earnest.
Everything was such a mess…
The door pushed open, and Maggie spied her before she could wipe her eyes. Her friend’s happy expression faded. “Julia, are you all right?”
Julia swallowed. “Yes.”
“Liar, you’ve been quiet all evening. Come on.” She plucked a packet of tissues out of her handbag and handed several over. “Dry your eyes and we’ll get out of here. Let’s collect Christina and Susan and head to my place. Perhaps we can help.”
One taxi ride later, Julia found herself at Connor and Maggie’s apartment in Newmarket, not far from the business center of Auckland. Maggie, who had secretly snared Julia’s best friend, Connor, last year, bustled around organizing drinks, and soon they each sipped a glass of white wine. A bowl of crisps, another of vegetable sticks and a fattening cheesy dip sat on the glass-topped coffee table in front of them.
“When’s Connor due home?” Julia asked—casually, she thought. Judging by the rolling eyes, her friends were on to her plan.
“Quit stalling.” Susan confirmed her fears.
Julia ruminated on her secrets—the things she hadn’t confided to her friends. Some of them about Ryan she couldn’t tell because she’d promised, and she never went back on her word, even if the louse didn’t deserve her loyalty.
“Julia, it can’t be that bad,” Maggie said.
“It’s worse.” Julia pulled the envelope from her handbag, going for diversion from the most troubling truth. “This is a letter from my mother.”
“You never talk about her,” Susan said. “Where does she live?”
“Auckland.” They lived in the same city, and her mother posted her a letter rather than pick up the phone or email. It said a lot about their relationship.
“But you never… Do you see her?” Maggie asked.
“We talk on the phone, and I drop in to see her once or twice a month.” Julia winced. “That sounds heartless, as if I don’t care, but we’ve never been super close. She’s always been busy working or involved with a man.” Usually a different one every month, but she didn’t voice the thought. It seemed disloyal when her record was no better.
Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I’d be the last one to cast stones. My relationship with my parents isn’t worth shouting about. I’m closer to Connor’s parents than mine.”
“What’s the problem?” Susan’s blue eyes held genuine concern. “What can we do to help?”
Julia’s hand tightened around her glass. Afraid of breaking it, she set her wine aside. How would her friends react? “My mother runs a club on Karangahape Road. A strip club.” Julia sucked in a quick breath and scanned her friends’ faces, ready for their responses. She’d heard every variation while growing up and had a smartass cut down for each dirty, snide comment.
“K’ Road? Really?” The pitch of Maggie’s voice rose, clear amusement in the quirk of her lips.
“Is that all you’re gonna say?” Julia demanded.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Susan asked.
