Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series (39 page)

This would be his life for the foreseeable
future. He thought he deserved an Oscar or at the very least, a medal. The
cold, hard reality of it was the knowledge that he had done it to himself. He
provided for both his children with aplomb. Played the part of the good husband
in public but rarely spoke to his wife at home.

In short, he was miserable. The only light
at the end of his tunnel was the two nights each week he spent at his apartment
above the club. Here he could truly relax. Here he entertained although he
never let any of the women who got to see his inner sanctum into his bedroom
nor did he allow them to spend the night there. The monthly account he held
with a local taxi firm was vast.

His bedroom here, in the place he
considered his home, would only ever have the one woman in it for as long as he
owned the place and she wasn’t his just yet.

The next four years disappeared in a blur,
where the time went, he couldn’t tell you. With the increasing demands from the
mothers of his children for clothes, money, time, he barely had a moment to
himself.

On his drive to Gloucester to visit to his
son, he was struck by the fact that his little boy was now approaching eleven,
in a few years he’d have a teenager on his hands. Everyone said how much his
son resembled him but he could only see it in photographs. Gavin had his
mother’s hazel eyes. They truly were the mirror to his soul and his mood was
easily gauged these days by his very expressive eyes. 

Although largely a quiet, studious boy,
Gavin was easily provoked and there was no middle ground with him. He was
either mild and mellow or in a full blown rage. This was something that
bothered both himself and Carmen considerably but even though the boy had been
through extensive counselling, the only conclusion that had been wrought was
that he was bright and advanced for his age and easily frustrated.

As a toddler, Paul had had a close
relationship with his son, this was beginning to wain slightly as Gavin got
older. He didn’t want cuddles or affection from his father but draw him into a
deep discussion or pull out the chess board and you had his undivided
attention. In truth, Paul missed holding his son. He hoped this current chilly
state of affairs would rectify itself as he stumbled through parenthood.

In complete contrast to his son, Luke was
loud, brash and as laid back as they came. He often made jokes, often at his
own expense and he seemed to be the only person who could pull Gavin out of a mood
with remarkable skill and speed.

On this particular visit, he was party to
Luke, now almost thirteen, returning home from school and announcing to
everyone present that as he was known as Luke Six out of the ten in his form at
secondary school, he was taking steps to rectify the matter and from now on
should be addressed as Novak.

Gavin embraced his friends’ decision but
Helen was deeply upset by it. She protested loudly as Luke, sorry Novak rolled
his eyes and huffed in typical teenage fashion. It wasn’t until Carmen
suggested that Helen continue to call her son by his given name but everyone
else would call him Novak if preferred that the situation began to settle.

Returning home on Wednesday, freshening up
and then going straight out to lunch with Monica, he managed to bypass any form
of conversation with his wife. His mother took it upon herself to grill him
about the possibility of further grandchildren which had him shaking his head
on a rueful smile.

“I think I’ve done more than enough to
keep the Jensen name going and besides, I haven’t slept with my wife since our
wedding night so any more children of mine won’t be squeezed out by her.”
Monica’s stunned silence said it all making him realise that now was perhaps
the time to begin seeking a divorce.

 Lunch over, he had just enough time to
call in on his lover, Eleanor Masters. He saw the suitcases in the hallway and
presumed she was leaving for a short break. He was stunned when she announced
she was leaving her husband for him, having made his intentions painfully clear
from the very beginning. He again found himself making it abundantly clear that
what had passed between them was nothing more than physical gratification for
him. He had made no promises whatsoever, but he still found himself apologising
for any wrong doing as her chin started to quiver. His words hit home when he
walked out. As the first tears began to fall, Eleanor quietly closed the door
on her lover and gave in to her grief.

Pulling up outside his daughters’ school,
he felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. First his
decision was to find a way to end his marriage and then the termination of his
long running affair had lightened his load immensely.

He was always a welcome sight at the
school on Wednesday afternoons. Given that it was the Nanny’s day off and Eve
hadn’t once been to the school, Paul was quite literally fawned over by the
present mothers and teachers alike. He would hide his smile at the comments of
how sweet he was with his daughter as he cuddled her and blew raspberries
against her neck making her giggle as they walked to the car.

The house was unusually quiet when they
arrived home; Eve wasn’t in her customary place on the sofa watching endless
episodes of Australian soap operas. Holding Marissa’s hand as she hopped up the
stairs, he went to turn towards her room when he heard an unmistakable sound.

Sweeping his daughter off her feet, he
strode down the hallway in the opposite direction, straight to the rooms
occupied by the nanny. She answered his knock quickly and upon hearing the
sounds from the other end of the hall, asked no questions. She simply took
Marissa from him and nodded at his instructions to get her changed out of her
uniform before asking the older woman if she would like to accompany them for
dinner once he had sorted out the problem at hand.

Not for the first time was he grateful
that his size hadn’t made him clumsy, he employed his best stealth skills as he
pushed open the door to the master suite. Leaning against the door frame, arms
folded over his chest, he watched his wife bounce up and down on the body of
the well-built man beneath her. They were both groaning out their satisfaction
and neither noticed them.

Having seen enough, Paul cleared his
throat. “You know, if you’d ridden me like that, we might have had a more
harmonious marriage.”

Absolute silence followed his words as the
couple on the bed gaped at each other before Eve, still sitting astride her
prone partner, turned to face him, covering her breasts.

“Get out.” She screeched.

Paul stepped forward as the man beneath
his wife tried to pry himself out from under her. “Eve, I am taking Marissa out
so no real need for you to stop. I do expect your partner here to be gone by
the time I return and once our daughter, remember her? Is asleep, you and I
will be having a discussion about what is going to happen from here on.”
Turning to leave, he was stopped by the voice of the man on the bed.

“Sorry man.” Was all he said.

Paul turned back and addressed him. “Not
your fault. In fact, I applaud you. She was never that enthusiastic about
seeing my cock let alone riding it. You clearly have something I’m lacking.”

The demise of Paul’s marriage hit the
society pages so quickly it almost gave him whiplash. He was photographed and
questioned everywhere he went and it became old very quickly. The surrounding
paps backed off quickly when their normally affable, play to the camera subject
snarled at them. He was expecting the call that came from Phil that summoned
him to the council offices.

Expecting to be slapped with a hefty fine
for bringing attention to himself, he was pleasantly surprised when he was
presented with an extended contract for ongoing works and the sympathy vote
that his wife had cheated on him and therefore the scandal that his divorce was
turning in to was not of his doing.

Knowing full well he hadn’t been faithful
to Eve for even a single day during their marriage, he was unwilling to let her
shoulder all the blame and simply stated that had he been a more attentive husband
perhaps things wouldn’t have happened this way. He had to throw Phil a warning
glance when the older man’s jaw hit the ground at his words.

The two men stopped for a quick bite to
eat before Paul started to move his belongings into the apartment above the
club. Catching up briefly on business, Phil placed his knife and fork on his
plate and looked at his business partner.

“Was what you said back there what’s known
as being economical with the truth?” He asked.

Paul smirked. “My fidelity has been a long
standing curiosity factor since I tied the knot. It’s fairly well known that
I’ve had affairs but none of it can be proved. I didn’t begin to try and make
it work with Eve, that’s my burden to bear. She doesn’t deserve to be slated
and be the only one blamed for the debacle that was our marriage. I didn’t make
it easy on her and as recompense for my part, I will make it clear that the
failure of the marriage is down to both of us.” He shrugged. “I’m an arsehole,
I know that, doesn’t mean I’m willing to take all the blame though.”

“Jesus boy, you have some balls.”

“Didn’t get where I am today by resting on
my laurels mate.” He laughed.

He settled back into bachelorhood with
ease never really having given it up for very long. Being above the club
permanently had distinct advantages, even more so when he had the feed for the
cameras routed to his apartment so he could see what was going on before he
made an appearance on the nights the club was open.

Always looking for ways to progress and
expand, he began looking in to opening the club through the day as a sort of
bistro. The space gained at the rear of the building by demolishing the VIP
rooms would accommodate a small kitchen nicely and he worked out a system by
which he could easily close off the bar area. He began looking at widening the
entrance to the club to allow for it to be open fronted during daylight hours.

He took his time getting ready for Friday
night in the club. Although he wore the same uniform as his staff, his were
made to fit him and only him, no generic sizing going on in his clothes. It put
him a cut above the rest as was fitting for his position as owner.

Once the club was open and the initial
rush dealt with, he retired to his office to finalise the delivery for the
morning. Saturday was their busiest night and the amount of alcohol and mixers
consumed was vast. Week by week he would spend thousands on supplies and
gradually, he was beginning to negotiate lower and lower costs with the
suppliers, an achievement in itself.

Placing the telephone receiver back on its
cradle, Paul flicked through the cameras and had just lent in to get a closer
look at one of the VIP areas when his walkie talkie crackled to life.

“Code blue, code blue, too many female
hands on the goods.”

Laughing as he moved away from his desk,
he spoke in to the device “I’ve got this.” Before making short work of the
corridor and the stairs to the private room. He didn’t knock, he just waltzed
into the room to find one of his male staff members prostrated across the table
while the lovely ladies of the hen party did shots out of his navel. That in
itself was not what had him laughing, the two pairs of hands making short work
of his trousers while his hands were held firmly above his head was certainly
cause for concern but Paul had never seen anyone look quite so panicked as this
young man did. “Ahem, ladies. Is there a problem here?” Reaching for the young
man being held down and successfully extricating him from the rabble, he put
himself between the shaken young man and the voracious ladies.

“No problem.” The bride giggled.

“Nope, none, are you coming to take over
cos wow. You. Have. Got. It. Going. On.” Drooled one of the bridesmaids.

Pointing to the sign above the door which
expressly prohibited groping of the staff, Paul shook his head. “I’m afraid
I’ll have to ask you to leave if you keep manhandling the staff.”

Coming unsteadily to her feet, the bride
got right up in Paul’s face or rather chest as that’s about as tall as she
stood. “You can’t do that, we paid for this room. I want to see the manager”

Knowing better than to put his hands on an
angry drunk woman, Paul regained his personal space by taking a step back. He
turned to the now recovered member of staff behind him and asked him to go and
get another round of drinks and perhaps some snacks for the Hen party before
smiling at the bride and confirming, “I am the manager Miss. Paul Jensen at
your service.”

The stunned silence that ensued was one he
was becoming used to when he said his name and then the gushing started.
Holding up his hands for silence and then assisting the bride back to her seat,
he continued. “I will be taking care of your needs for the rest of the evening,
all I ask is you adhere to the rules and regulations you agreed to when you
signed the contract for the hire of this room.”

The six women in the room nodded in
unison. He couldn’t help but smile as he served their drinks and the variety of
snacks that had arrived. He placed his pager on the table in front of them, it
would ping his walkie talkie if he was needed in the room, told them drinks for
the remainder of the evening were on the house and quickly left.

He stopped briefly by the bar to get
himself a drink and check up on his recently pinned by the bridal party
employee before returning to his office.

The large brown envelope in the centre of
his desk practically screamed and performed back flips as he approached and saw
the writing on the front, just his name but he knew that writing even though
he’d seldom seen it.

Reaching for the envelope even before he
sat, he took a sip of his drink and turned it over. Peeling it open and peering
inside, his curiosity piqued further by the papers inside. Leaning over his
desk, he laid the papers out in front of him but noticed there was still
something taped to the inside of the envelope. He began reading as he peeled
away the tape.