Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught (5 page)

Juliette sputtered as she spoke. “He is such an, an-”

Budd quickly tried to finish her sentence. “Jerk?”

“No. Worse.”

“Asshole?”

“Yes, he is such an asshole,” Juliette said vehemently. She downed the last of her whiskey and her face contorted into a grimace of discomfort. Budd could tell it was not her drink of choice, but as long as she was happy to knock them back, he was happy to keep them coming. He gave a nod to the barman, who served up another, almost instantly.

“He told me not to be upset, that he is a star, and that it was expected of him to do that kind of thing. He said he has a reputation to keep. I am such a fool, I thought he was the one.”

Budd smiled wistfully. “I thought that about my wife, Julia. I thought that right up ‘til she left me for the local shoe-shiner. He only had one leg, and a glass eye. I guess he must’ve been ‘The One.’”

Budd felt Juliette looking at him and so he closed his eyes, savoring the taste of his Scotch; he knew she was examining him, staring at the faint lines and greyish stubble on his face. When he opened them, he found that she was still looking at him, although the intensity had faded and her face was lit up with a smile. “Did your wife really leave you for a one-eyed, one-legged shoe-shiner?”

“He was a midget, too.”

“You lie,” Juliette said with a laugh.

“Gospel truth.”

“So, you are single,
Monsieur
Ashby?”

“Hard to believe, ain’t it?” Budd answered with a wink.

“Do you ever know what love is?”

“What do I look like to you, a little, old, wise Chinese oracle?”

Juliette laughed again, blushing a little. “I mean, how does anyone really know for sure? How do you know if it is real?”

“You don’t,” Budd said, finishing his whiskey and placing the tumbler back on the counter. “At least, I don’t think you can. How can you ever know for sure what someone else thinks and feels? It all comes down to trust.”

“I trusted Jack.”

“You’ll trust other jerks down the line, too. Everyone does. It ain’t easy, sugar.”

“See,” Juliette said as a playful look spread across her face. “You are a little, old, wise Chinese oracle.”

Budd lowered his head and raised his hands across his chest, palms together, like in a prayer. “At your service, ma’am,” he said, trying to imitate a Chinese voice.

It was not a good impression, but Juliette laughed out loud nonetheless. She then finished off her whiskey, nearly downing the entire amount in one gulp. She rocked in her chair and her eyes glazed over.

As if on cue, the barman appeared across the counter. “Another round, sir?” he asked, addressing Budd.

“No,” Juliette interrupted. “I have had enough.
Monsieur
Ashby, would you walk me to my room? I am frightened I might see Jack on my way.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Budd said. He turned to the barman and palmed a twenty-pound note across the counter. “And I’ll see you later.”

“Goodnight then, sir, ma’am,” the barman replied, tucking his tip into the breast pocket of his jacket and smiling his thanks. Juliette took a moment to prepare herself and then rose from the bar stool, slowly taking her weight back onto her high-heeled feet. Budd reached out to steady her.

“Thank you,
Monsieur
Ashby. I feel quite drunk.”

“You look quite drunk, peaches,” Budd said. He scooped down to pick up his rucksack and then he placed his other arm around Juliette’s shoulders, holding her body tight to the side of his.

Together, they set off towards the bar’s exit.

Out in the corridor, they were immediately faced with the bank of elevators. To the right were rows of expensive souvenir shops, although each one had long since closed for the night. A mauve-suited attendant asked which floor they required and, after Juliette answered, he pressed the upward button. Moments later, a bell chimed and one set of the elevator doors opened.

Before Budd realized it, they had climbed the intervening floors and were stumbling out onto the level of Juliette’s suite. They proceeded around to the left and Budd marveled at how thick the blue carpet felt beneath his feet. The cream walls were liberally decorated with paintings and artwork, which were each illuminated by spotlights that shone down from the ten-foot high ceiling of ornate plaster. There were twelve-inch deep covings, carved with images of animals and birds, running along the entire length of the passageway.

No natural light entered the corridor, as the guest suites were located around its outside, but shimmering chandeliers hung at regular intervals. Following the shape of the building, the corridor ran in a square around the central core of the hotel. It was in this central section that all of the hotel’s amenities were situated, different ones on each level.

Budd did not know what facility occupied Juliette’s floor, and nor did he care. His attention was not on the obvious splendor of the hotel, but instead captivated entirely by her. He watched as she slid her hand into a tiny pocket that was sewn into the seam of her dress. She pulled out a keycard and guided him towards one of the doors.

“I guess this is where we say goodnight, sweetheart.”

Juliette put the keycard into the swipe-machine and then pushed open her door. She looked from side to side down the corridor.

Nobody else was nearby.

Carefully, she extricated herself from Budd’s arm and stepped through her doorway before turning back to face him.

She looked him in the eye.

Budd smiled at her and removed his Stetson. “Goodnight, missy,” he said.

Inside the doorway, Juliette’s hands had disappeared behind her back. They started at the top and gradually got lower. In the quiet of the corridor, the sound of the zipper being operated was strangely loud. Budd kept his eyes locked on hers, not daring to look away, almost hypnotized by the large, brown, reflective pools of her irises. The red dress started to slip, falling from her body; before her chest was revealed, Juliette turned and walked further into her suite, her tanned skin almost luminescent in the unlit room.

Budd watched her move away, observing her young, taut body, naked but for her black high-heeled shoes and a pair of delicate red panties. She rounded the corner of her suite’s entrance hall, disappearing from sight. Budd remained still for a moment, his Stetson grasped in his hands, a large, unabashed smile on his face.

From inside the suite, Juliette called softly, “Please come in,
Monsieur
Ashby.”

Budd stepped inside and closed the door.

You don’t need me to say what happened next, do you?

You do?

Well, all right, but only because it’s important to the story, no other reason. Hell, I’ll even edit it for T.V., too. I wouldn’t want you to think I was boasting…

Budd let his hands explore Juliette’s body, feeling the fine film of sweat that covered her skin. She was on top of him, her back arched so that her face was tilted towards the ceiling, her small, pert breasts pushed forward. He clasped her around her waist and guided her down onto her back, gently kissing her neck as he positioned himself between her legs, running his fingers up her well-toned thighs.

Inside the bedroom all of the lights were switched off, but the moon’s pale radiance and the electric glow of the skyline flooded in through the windows and a pair of glass balcony doors to light up their bodies. In the blink of an eye, the glow of the built-up horizon turned to darkness.

London was blacked out.

The two lovers didn’t notice.

THE FIRST DAY

Juliette sat up and swung her legs off the bed so that her feet rested on the carpet. She turned her head to smile over her slender shoulder at Budd, and then got up and walked to the passageway that led to the bathroom.

Having watched her leave, Budd settled back on the bed and tucked his hands behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling, enjoying the blissful moment for as long as he could. What had taken place was impossible; he had friends whose children were older than Juliette was.

I knew there could be no future in it. Still, I was having a great time and was happy to go with the flow.

Told you I wouldn’t brag…

After a few seconds, Juliette reappeared from around the corner, her silhouette much brighter than before because she had wrapped herself inside a white dressing gown. Budd propped himself on his side to look at her, his lower half concealed within the bed sheets.

“The lights do not work,
Monsieur
Ashby,” Juliette said. To reinforce her words she repeatedly flicked the switch for the bedroom light. Nothing happened.

“Must be a brownout. You know, a power cut. Nothing to worry ’bout.”

Juliette returned to the bed. Budd rolled onto his back and she rested her head on his chest. Her fingers explored his abdomen until they found a three-inch scar on his left-hand side. “How did this happen?”

“Shrapnel, sweetie, back when I was a chopper pilot in the Marines.”

“You were in the army?”

“The United States Marine Corps, to be exact.”

“When?”

“Came out shortly after the Gulf War. The first one. When the Raggies still had a few tanks.”

“How old are you, Monsieur Ashby?”

I knew it’d only be a matter of time before she asked that little question…

“Forty-nine. What ’bout you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Wow,” Budd said, stroking her hair. “I’ve just made love to a beautiful woman who’s less than half my age. Trust me, at twenty-four, that sounds creepy, but once you’re in your forties, you’ll look at twenty-year-old studs in a totally different light.”

“Do you really think that I am beautiful?” Juliette asked, stirring from her position to kneel up, placing one leg on either side of Budd’s chest. Her hair was loose and full flowing, dropping forwards to touch the edges of her mouth.

Budd untied the knot of her dressing gown belt. He slid his hands inside and delicately gripped her waist. “You have no idea,” he whispered.

Budd was woken by faint light coming in through the windows. The sun had risen a little over the horizon, although the dark clouds that filled the sky obscured the majority of its efforts. He reached over to the bedside cabinet for his wristwatch. The time read one o’clock, but he quickly noticed that the second hand was not moving.

The watch had stopped.

“Piece of crap,” he said quietly, and discarded it back to the bedside table.

Being careful not to disturb Juliette, he climbed out of bed and then readjusted the sheets so that they covered her up to her shoulders. He retrieved his black boxer shorts from the carpet and pulled them on, conscious of a chill in the air.

For the first time, he looked around the large hotel suite.

The centerpiece of the room was the set of double doors that opened out onto a balcony. The thick glass panes were rimmed with metal and it was from here that much of the dawn light entered. There were also two other rectangular windows, one at either end of the same wall. To the left of the balcony was the king-sized double bed, two chests of drawers, two wardrobes and two bedside cabinets, while on the right was a marble-topped coffee table, a glass-fronted drink cabinet and three two-seater leather sofas arranged around a gargantuan flat-screen television.

I wasn’t born rich, but I’m pretty sure that, given the chance, I could’ve coped with the lifestyle…

Budd walked around the bed to the passageway that led to the bathroom and the suite’s entrance, where Juliette’s red dress remained crumpled in a small heap. The section was sheltered from natural light and he paused to hit the light switch.

Nothing happened.

He went back to the bedside cabinet and picked up the telephone receiver, intent on calling down to the hotel’s reception.

There was no dial tone. The line was dead.

As he stood there, contemplating what to do next, his eyes wandered to the balcony doors. What he saw captured his attention and he replaced the receiver. He crossed the suite and undid the lock, then opened the doors and stepped onto the balcony. The air was cold, but he did not notice. He looked around, unsure of what to make of the scene sprawled beneath his feet.

For as far as he could see, which was a considerable distance as Juliette’s suite was on the twenty-second floor of the hotel, there was not a single electric light visible. The buildings were black and the streets between them were in near darkness, barely lit by the faint light of the cloud-covered early-morning sky. There was no activity.