Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series (30 page)

Stepping forward, John retrieved the
instructions from the bed and studied them, questioning Paul on each and every
step and receiving terse replies. “Right.” John said as he dropped the
instructions back onto the bed. “We can do this. You grab that end and pull.”

Several minutes and a few hundred curse
words later they admitted defeat. “Fuck it, he can just sleep with me.” Paul
sank down onto his bed.

“Sounds like the best idea to me.” John
agreed. “Hello little man.” He greeted Gavin as the boy wondered over to what
was supposed to be his bed for the next two nights, Monica hot on his heels.

“Why isn’t that ready for him? He’s
getting tired and could use a nap.” Monica glared at them.

“It’s broken.” Paul stated.

“Yes it is.” John confirmed.

Tutting in disgust, she picked Gavin up
and placed him on Paul’s lap before grasping the edges of the cot and giving it
a shake. It fell in to place easily and she proceeded to add the bed linen.

The two men looked at each other over the
head of the young boy. “This never leaves this room.” Paul told his Uncle.

“Agreed.” Nodding solemnly, John agreed.

His refusal to introduce his son to the
supposed love of his life wasn’t particularly well received; he paid for that
decision for months. Or so Eve thought.

Paul made the most of his nights at the
club, obtaining new conquests and re-visiting old ones while maintaining an air
of detachment. Eve no longer socialised at the club, she had her man and she
had no need to mingle with the great unwashed so he had no fear of being caught
as long as he kept his shenanigans within the walls of the club. Outside, in
the public eye, he was the perfect picture of an attentive boyfriend.

Within six months of his initial
investment in order to keep Eve’s father out of bankruptcy and with further
investments into the company with little payback, Paul took it upon himself to
employ Norman full time to oversee exactly where the money was going. It gave
Norman the pleasure of telling Michael that Paul was now more than competent at
his job meaning he was no longer needed to coach the younger man and that he
was resigning. Paul had never seen him so happy.

Norman quickly raised his concerns over
the financial status of the company and further meetings with Niles were
arranged. Niles refused to allow these meetings to take place at the office and
insisted on more informal ones at his home.

Sitting across from him again, Paul’s
distaste for this man became quickly apparent when Norman handed over various
financial statements and pointed out several highlighted portions of the
documents.

Leaning forward, placing the paperwork
face up on the desk, Paul speared the man with his ice cold gaze. “Is it your
intention to bankrupt me?” He growled.

Niles hesitated before replying. Biting
his tongue to hold back the reprimand that the young man should treat him with
respect. “Not at all, I assure you.” He smarmed.

“Then.” Paul stood, placed his hands on
the desk and leant forward. “What the fuck are you doing wrong? You are
haemorrhaging money. You’ve put me in the position of having to make a very
difficult decision here. Either I cough up more money to pay the staff. Again.
Or, I remove you from the company entirely and take over directorship. Which
would you prefer?

 Scooting backwards in his chair, Niles
also stood and began to pace. “I can’t lose the company. I’ll do better. The
staff shouldn’t have to suffer.” He stammered. He saw Norman smirking from his
chair and didn’t like it one bit. He resented Norman breathing over his
shoulder at every available opportunity and vowed to find a way to discredit
the man in Paul’s eyes.

Pulling himself up to his full height,
Paul thrust his hands into his pockets and stepped back from the desk. “You are
to hand over the check book and all bank accounts to Norman. He will be taking
over control of the purse strings from this moment forward. You just need to
make sure anything you do, any investments and any expenditure is signed off by
him.” Paul held up a hand for silence when Niles began to protest. “There will
be no discussion over this. Its simple Niles, you will do as you are told. You
will tow the line or I will break your company into shards and sell it off bit
by bit. Norman, anything you think is suspicious, you run by me, other than
that you have free rein to do what you see fit within that company.” He looked
up at Niles and caught the sneer he quickly covered. “Other than making sure
your staff is taken care of, there will be no further monetary input from me so
I strongly suggest you stop shitting money and get your fucking head in the
game.”

Waking the following morning, he took a
few moments to re-think the previous evening’s conversations. On the way home,
Norman had assured him that he would make the company profitable but advised
Paul to step away once he had regained his initial investments and made a
profit. He said that the company would have to learn to sink or swim without
him once he had them on an even keel. All Paul wanted to do right now was go
back to sleep but it was his first of the two days a week he spent at the
offices of Jensen Incorporated and he had to get out of bed. He had the
horrible sinking feeling that he’d bitten off far more than he could chew by
getting involved with Niles Fitzgerald.

Parking his car in the underground car
park and having a quick look around it to make sure the cars parked either side
wouldn’t be able to ding his if they left before him, yeah, he was anal that
way, he made his way to the lift which is where he found his sister waiting
patiently.

“Morning.” He greeted her.

Smiling at her brother, Tessa rummaged in
her handbag and pulled out an envelope. “Good morning little brother.” She
laughed as she looked up at him. “I have this for you.”

The lift doors opened. He opened the
envelope she had given him as she selected the floor they required and stood to
the back of the lift. His heart felt as though it was trying to crawl out of
his throat as he read what was on the embossed card in his hands.

“Suzanne’s getting married.” He stated.

“That usually follows after an
engagement.” Tessa rolled her eyes at him. “I’m maid of honour.”

“Congratulations.”

Tessa tapped his arm as she bounced on the
balls of her feet, suddenly excited. “Oh, I know, we can have her hen party at
the club.”

Paul’s head thought
yeah you could
,
his mouth however, had other ideas, “No.” Even he was surprised at the
brusqueness of his tone.

“What? Why not? You must own three
quarters of the place by now therefore you have the majority say of what goes
on there.”

“I do but you are not holding Suzanne’s
hen party at the club. We don’t cater for that kind of thing.” Ok, that was an
outright lie; hen parties were usually riotous and shit loads of fun.

“But Paul!” Tessa whined.

“No Tessa. Drop it.” He snarled at her.
Thankfully the lift chose that moment to reach their floor and he bolted for
his office to avoid further confrontation with his persistent sister. His
outburst resulted in Tessa refusing to speak to him and he felt himself
beginning to soften towards the idea of letting her have her way.

Standing in the store room, trying to
locate an archived file, he weighed up the pros and cons of it all. He knew it
would be good for the club but knew he’d never be able to stomach seeing Suzie
prepare to commit herself to another man. Their brief, frantic fuck in the
bathroom told him she was about as ready for the commitment as he was. No.
There would be no hen night at Jokers for her.

Bending, he searched through a box for the
file he needed, his pen fell from behind his ear. Stretching over the box,
scrabbling between dusty cabinets and loose files, his hand found something, it
certainly wasn’t his pen. He pulled a few boxes out of the way and stepped in
to the gap between filing cabinets where he found a large window overlooking
the city. Looking toward the floor he saw electrical and telephone sockets.

He spent a good hour re-arranging the
archive boxes in order to reach the other outside wall of the room. Pulling a
cabinet forward, he found another window, this one from floor to ceiling and
further electrical outlets. The idea that this room would make an excellent
corner office began to form. It was larger than the one he currently occupied
and it has windows, something his current one lacked.

Taking the bull by the horns, he sauntered
to his father’s office and asked if he would have any objections to Paul taking
over the store room as his office and turning his current office into the store
room. His father’s initial silence was a little unnerving so he threw in that
he would do all the work himself and would re-route the telephone cabling to
ensure his extension remained the same, he’d even destroy all of the old, out
of date files that were no longer needed and buy his own office furniture.

Not entirely convinced of Paul’s reason of
needing more space for filing cabinets and therefore a larger office, Michael
agreed in principle but told Paul he’d make a final decision once he had looked
over the store room himself.

Paul made sure to put everything back the
way he had found it before returning to his broom cupboard of an office and
making it look as cluttered as humanly possible.

Michael waited until Paul had left for the
day before he took the short walk to the store room. He hadn’t been in here for
a good ten years himself, that’s what he had staff for. The room was dark even
when lit by the overhead fluorescent lights, it was dusty and filled to
bursting with filing cabinets and archive boxes but yes, it was marginally
bigger than the office Paul currently had. Although he had no desire to have
his youngest son physically closer to him, the fact that Paul would sort out
this horrendous mess was too good to pass up.

Paul’s evenings began to consist of
shredding and heaving cabinets out of the old store room. He put boarding over
the windows so that anyone who happened to wonder in here through the day would
not know they were there and minimise his chances of completely securing this
space for himself. He had already ordered his desk and new chairs. He managed
to persuade Eve to come with him on the nights she stayed with him; he even got
her shredding old files to speed things up.

Watching him work as she fed papers into
the shredder, she began to see why he was in so much demand. He was methodical,
forward planning every move and extremely hard working. She had seen him work
at the club of course but this side of him was something completely different.
She began to see that his work at the club was really just an extension of his
personality whereas the physical exertion seemed to satisfy him immensely and
at the end of each night he would stand for a few moments and survey what he
had done with pride.

“What’s this?” Paul pondered aloud as he
pulled the only remaining filing cabinet forward. He’d revealed a door and
squeezing behind the cabinet, pushed it open. “No way!” He sputtered, “Eve,
come and look at this.”

Trying and failing not to get covered in
dust and cobwebs, Eve stepped into the space he’d discovered. “You didn’t know
this was here?” She asked.

“No.” His voice echoed in the white tiled
bathroom. Sink toilet and full size shower. He lifted the lid of the toilet and
quickly dropped it. “I don’t think the previous occupant flushed.” He murmured
and pressed his hand onto the flush. He hadn’t expected it to work but it did
so he reached for a tap and twisted it, after some initial spluttering, water
began to flow. “I think I just struck gold.” He grinned at her and shooed her
out of the room, shutting the door behind him, he pushed the filing cabinet
back in place. “I think that can stay hidden for a little while longer.” He
winked at her.

The following night he ran the cables for
his telephone extension and took detailed measurements of the walls and sugar
soaped them. The night after that he set to work painting. The third night, he
was there alone. Eve having decided she’d had quite enough of that thank you
very much.

Pulling the only remaining filing cabinet
forward, he stepped into the bathroom. It was in serious need of a deep clean.
Where the fuck would he start? He was saved from his dilemma by the office
cleaners. He had become quite friendly with them during his office excavations
and as they now peered around the cabinet and into the bathroom with about the
same look of amazement on their faces as he imagined he’d had on his he figured
he may as well capitalize on their curiosity. Pulling two fifty pound notes out
of his wallet, he handed them to the supervisor and asked if the bathroom could
be cleaned but that it would have to be kept quiet.

With the arrival of his desk, chairs, a
large, dark chocolate brown leather couch and cabinets to match his desk, Paul
made a concerted effort to get to the office before everyone else and get himself
settled. He couldn’t stop smiling as he stroked the smooth surface of his desk
but limited his pleasure; he still had one more thing to do before everyone
started work.

Stripping off his jacket and hanging it on
the Bentwood coat stand, he made short work of the boards covering the windows
before washing up in his own personal bathroom and looking the picture of
efficiency as the office staff began to arrive. The only thing he needed now
was blinds for the windows.

As the ladies of the typing pool arrived,
they were greeted by a wall of glass between them and what used to be the store
room and to the sight of Paul behind a large desk at one end of a huge office.
He was universally loved by them and they welcomed having better access to his
charming ways and sense of humour. Several of them went in to his newly
acquired office to bid him good morning and admire the view. A few of the older
ones warned him his father probably wouldn’t be too happy that he’d been
hoodwinked. Paul grinned, shrugged and told them he’d look forward to the
reaction.

Michael paused as he stepped out of the
elevator. As always, his secretary greeted him there with messages and a cup of
coffee. His typing pool ladies were all diligently working and there was Paul
in his office, shirtsleeves rolled up and making notes as he talked on the
telephone. He went to take a step forward but stopped to work out what was
wrong with this picture. Having quickly worked it out, he strode towards what
looked to be the largest office in the place and it certainly had the best
view. He didn’t knock; he just walked right in and stopped dead.