by Lacey Legend
“It says he knows how to work the system.”
“Stop being cynical, mom. I changed, why can’t Leon?”
Her mother was furious and Jenna had to share a bed with her.
What a rotten end to the weekend, she thought.
“Keep your head on your shoulders,” warned her mother. “I’m not around to force Leon to keep away from you. He’s a bad influence. That’s why you ended up involved in silly, stupid, dangerous games as a teenager. I blamed myself because I work three jobs but what could I do. Nothing’s changed. I still work three jobs to support us and I can’t take time off to protect you. I only hope you’ve grown up and have the sense to stay away from whatever he cooks up. You’ve got a new life and a future. Focus on that. Focus on this billionaire; he’ll give you more than Leon ever could.”
Jenna was on the verge of having a rip-roaring row with her mother. They hadn’t fought in ages. Not since Leon was sentenced. One ten-minute conversation regarding her ex and they were already circling each other like wild cats ready to pounce.
“Money doesn’t maketh the man, mother.”
Liana could see the two women were reaching boiling point.
“Jenna, come in my bedroom. I want to hear about Paris and I’m desperate to see what’s in all those bags you’ve bought back. There’s nothing we can do about Leon now. Don’t let him ruin Jenna’s weekend mom, not when it was her first time out of the country.”
Hannah relented. She didn’t trust Leon and she never would. She only hoped Jenna had the good sense to remember a leopard never changed its spots.
*
Spencer made an executive decision to allow Jenna twenty-four hours to recover from their rushed weekend in Paris. Jenna still had her studies and was still contracted to Ms. Princely at Supreme Cleaning Services, so had obligations to fulfill. Spencer’s insistence that she be at his beck and call, allowing him to finance their relationship, was not one that instilled a feeling of security or equality in their burgeoning romance. He knew better to even put the suggestion to Jenna.
Having collected his parents, brother and niece from JFK Airport, he arranged for the family to be driven to the luxurious town house on Fifth Avenue that Spencer purchased for his parents some years back. Spencer had the house cleaned, stocked and prepared for the guests. He sat easily on the steps awaiting their arrival.
Greeting his petite mother bodily, and his sister-in-law with a kiss on the cheek, a firm handshake for his father and a brusque hug for his brother, Spencer bolted to the car seat to extract Rosie from the vehicle.
‘Hey Rosie,” he cooed softly. “Do you remember your Uncle Spencer?”
The pretty blonde haired, brown-eyed girl dressed like a fancy china doll, said nothing. She wrung her hands and remained placid as Spencer carried her upstairs. Setting her straight in the cot, he sat cross-legged on the outside as if entranced by his niece. He passed her a soft toy with sensory materials attached for Rosie to look, feel and touch. She made no attempt to take the toy or play with it.
“It’s okay, mate,” said Spencer’s brother, Rupert. “She can go in out of these little trances. It’s been a long trip. She’ll be more active when she’d less tired.”
“Sure. I know I should know that,” he said rubbing his eyes.
“Are you okay, Spencer, love?” asked his mother. “You look a little stressed.”
“I probably am. Feel like I’m juggling a lot at the moment.”
“You know we’ll stay out of your way,” said his father pleasantly. “It’s not like we need to interfere in your life.”
“Don’t be proud, Dad. You’re not interfering in my life. It’s nice to have you here. Most of my friends still reside mainly in England. I only ever see them in New York when they’re passing through. I enjoy the company of friends and family to the acquaintances I’ve made here.”
“Is work bothering you, then?” probed his mother.
“No, no. Seriously don’t worry about it.”
The four standing adults exchanged a look.
Spencer was unable to see it because he was peering into Rosie’s cot.
“It’s a girl,” mouthed Rosie’s mother, Eloise.
There was snickering and Spencer’s head popped up.
“Nothing old boy,” assured Rupert. “Look, why don’t you and I and dad go for a drink? There must be pubs around here.”
“Bars more likely, but I’m sure we can find something suitable,” agreed Spencer. With three females in this house, he suddenly felt very out of his depths.
“Not a dreadful sports bar,” announced Mr. Lawson as they stood outside on the doorstep.
“No, Dad.”
“And not a gentleman’s club . The last thing I need is Eloise breathing down my neck and asking me five hundred questions.”
“Rupert, I’m not sure I like what you’re implying about my character, but I have no wish to spend an extortionate amount on strippers in the middle of the day with my brother and father present. All I want to do is spend time with my niece and ensure that her care and development is still top notch.”
“I know old chap, we all want that,” started Rupert, “but it’s not a crime to think of yourself or outside of Rosie’s Rett Syndrome. Don’t let her or our family be defined by the blasted thing.”
Rupert’s hand on his shoulder calmed Spencer considerably. He flagged a yellow taxi to take them to The Churchill Tavern just off Madison Avenue. The pub was to the liking of all three men. Its decor was exceedingly British. The pub was dimly lit and even darker thanks to the brick walls and an old wooden bar and stools. Pleasing to the men’s thirst and appetite, the premise’s offered local British fare and craft beers.
The men opted for a booth and a pint of stout. One sip of the strong dark brew beer had Spencer wincing.
“Spending too much money on champagne?” laughed his father. “Forgotten your roots?”
“Not at all. I have beer in the fridge at home; this is just a particularly strong brew. It’s a while since I've had something decent from a barrel.”
Spencer listened to his father and brother talk shop. His brother was now a specialist in Rett Syndrome, making the professional change and undertaking the relevant studies and placements shortly after Rosie’s diagnosis. His father remained a top neural surgeon, but as a doting granddad, had a strong interest in Rupert’s niche area of medicine.
“You looked bored, Spence,” remarked Rupert.
“No, just intimidated by all the medical jargon. When I hear you speak, I realize how actively you work toward helping Rosie. I feel I’ve the intention but unable to deliver anything useful.”
“Spence, the charity gala dinner you held the other week brought in loads of money for the research department. You pay for all of Rosie’s care and ensured we have a residence suitable for Rosie when she’s growing up. Eloise and I could’ve afforded that, but we’d have spent a good part of our professional lives working to pay it off. That kind of work would’ve meant not spending precious time with our little girl.
The gifts you’ve given us extend beyond the materialistic. I can’t put a price on what it’s like not have to work long hours to support the extremely difficult living situation we have in catering to Rosie’s syndrome. Your money helps, mate. It helps us to enjoy our little girl while we can. I hope my work helps but there’s no guarantee on that. We see an instant response to your contribution to the family and the quality of Rosie’s life.”
Spencer smiled, but it was watery. He didn’t feel useless, but it didn’t abate his frustration about potentially never being able to communicate with his niece.
“Son,” said Mr. Lawson, “Your devotion to the family is admirable and it comes naturally to you. You’re thirty-two now. Do you ever think of settling down? Maybe stop playing the field and looking for someone who’s better suited to you for more than just one night.”
Only drunk in a pub could three British men have a realistic heart-to-heart.
/> “I need another drink.”
“It wasn’t until they were four pints along that Spencer was able to reveal his conundrum. “I have thought about settling down. No, not settling down so much as dating. Proper dating. The kind of dating with an end view of developing a relationship.” His brown eyes were glassy, his face flushed, his body relaxed and his persona pleasant, thanks to his gentle inebriation.
“And who’s the lucky lady to catch my brother’s eye?”
“I’m not sure she thinks she’s lucky.”
“What woman landing a handsome billionaire born from my genetic pool wouldn’t be a lucky lady?” guffawed Mr. Lawson.
“She’s not a lady for a start.”
His brother and father raised an amused eyebrow.
“She’s not gentry,” carried on Spencer.
“Spencer, we aren’t in the Victorian era,” guffawed his father.
“Yes, I know that, father. I mean she’s from a very different background to ours.”
“So the lady is a tramp,” giggled Rupert.
Spencer’s hand slammed on the table so hard all three glasses spilt.
“NO!”
“Calm down, mate. I was joking.”
“She’s not a tramp. In the right clothes and in the right place she’s a complete lady. It’s only her background doesn’t afford the right clothes or opportunities to enter my playground.”
Silence stretched between the family. Rupert wasn’t trying to flare Spencer’s temper, nor offend his love interest. He was being cryptic about the girl, which meant he clearly had some reservations.
“I’ve always thought a lady wasn’t born with the title, nor could it be bred into her. A lady is defined by how she conducts herself in the company of other’s and how she chooses to spend her time,” mused Mr. Lawson.
If that definition is anything to go by, then Jenna totally fits the bill of being a lady, thought Spencer.
“Let’s drop it,” said Spencer. “It’s all very complicated and I’m starting to see double, so I don’t think you’ll get much sense out of me for too much longer.
The men ordered another round of brown ale and returned to discussing football.
Chapter Nine
Jenna made her way into the diner after she finished her first set of classes on Tuesday morning. Her friend Kelly caught her eye and pointed to the section of the restaurant she was looking after.
“Is there going to be a stampede of college kids in two minutes,” asked Kelly, stopping by Jenna’s table.
“Maybe.”
“You going to order?”
“You going to sit with me?” enquired Jenna.
“I can for a bit but let me take your order.”
“Coffee.”
“Jenna, work with me here. I can’t just pour you endless bottomless cup of coffee and then sit and sympathize with you over the bad news.”
“You’ve heard the news as well?”
“I didn’t hear it so much as see it,” said Kelly sympathetically.
Jenna contorted her face into an ugly expression of confusion.
“Have you actually seen it,” asked Kelly tentatively.
Jenna shook her head.
“I’ll get you pie with that coffee. Some hot apple pie to sweeten the sourness these pictures will leave in your mouth.”
When Kelly returned, Jenna was grateful there hadn’t been a stampede of customers creating a barrier between her and her friends.
“What’d you come to discuss then?” Kelly was trying to keep her voice airy.
“What pictures have you got?” fired back Jenna.
“They’re not my pictures per se,” evaded Kelly.
“Whom do they belong to?”
“A magazine.”
Jenna snatched the magazine. Kelly made a poor attempt to stop her.
“Jen, I’m sorry. I thought you knew but if you didn’t, then you deserve to.”
Jenna flipped through the cheap rag full of glossy pictures and gossip. When she came to a section called ‘Who’s About Town’ one of the first photos her eyes were draw to under the section ‘Friday Night in NYC’ was of Spencer.
Spencer was dressed in the exact same clothes he’d met her in early Saturday morning. And, he was adorned with a blonde on one arm, a brunette on the other and a gorgeous auburn haired oriental girl with her hand in his coat pocket following from behind as they exited the expensive Pacha club in Chelsea. Jenna thought she might be sick on the spot. She was relieved she hadn’t touched the coffee or pie because it meant there was nothing in her stomach that could make her vomit.
“You didn’t know?”
“Of course I didn’t know. While he was arranging a private orgy, I was mistakenly packing for a romantic monogamous weekend away in Paris,” spat Jenna bitterly.
“Did you go?”
“Of course I did. The magazine only came out...”Jenna’s eyes scanned the inside front cover. “Last night.”
“So you came here to tell me about your romantic getaway and I just dumped all over it by exposing that magazine to you.”
“In fairness Kelly, the weekend was ruined when I left the limousine.”
“Limousine? Words I bet you never imagined you’d be throwing into casual conversation.” teased Kelly.
“After what you’ve just shown me, in all probability, it was my last ride.”
“Jenna?” Kelly said more seriously, “Don’t jump to conclusions. This guy has gone out of his way for you. I know as a couple you’ll both have a natural set of problems to overcome because well let’s face it, you’re poor and he’s rich, but don’t make them more cumbersome by jumping to conclusions and causing a rift when you don’t know what’s happened.
It doesn’t look good, but there could be a perfectly normal explanation to it. If you keep pushing him away, eventually he might take the hint and run and I know deep down, that’s not what you want. It’s not a healthy defense mechanism. Stop thinking you don’t deserve to be in a healthy relationship with a nice man.”
“It’s not a healthy relationship if he doesn’t want to spend his free time with me. I don’t want to see him partying with other women, either. Why couldn’t he take me out on Friday night?”
“Because you were packing.”
“Well, he clearly got his packing done early in order that he could go out and withheld telling me about his plans to prevent me from joining him at Pacha.”
“It does look a bit like that,” agreed Kelly. She pulled her blonde hair out of its bun and gave it a shake.
“Hey Kelly, Health and safety, remember!” shouted her boss from behind the counter.
She narrowed her stormy blue eyes at him and began putting her hair up again. “You going to tell me about Mr. British Billionaire and Paris then?”
“No,” responded Jenna sternly.
“Why not? Don’t be a spoil sport. That picture may mean nothing and it doesn’t take away from what he did or how he was with you while you were in Paris.
“I didn’t come here to talk to you about Paris, Kelly. I came to talk to you about something else.”
“That being?”
“Leon.”
“As in-“
“As in Leon my ex-boyfriend and now ex-con living in the same apartment building as us.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes. I have this lovely romantic weekend with Spencer. I arrive back at our crummy building full of romance and memories and there’s my childhood sweetheart, gazing up at me as if I’m the only woman on earth.”
“Did you spit in his eye?”
“Don’t be vulgar.”
“I’m joking.”
“Did you ignore him?”
“I couldn’t. We have a history. I can’t erase that or cut myself off from it. I was polite and civil and tried to remain at arm’s length.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“NOOOOOOOOO!”
“Did you want to?
“No,” s
aid Jenna in a whisper.
“Did you want him to kiss you?”
Jenna didn’t answer.
“Your silence speaks volumes.”
“He looks and acts as though he’s grown up. The way he spoke and his consideration toward me. He was acting like how I was always telling him I wanted to be.”
“How’d you leave things?”
“Vague. I can’t encourage this, can I?”
“No!”
“You guys made a promise to each other that with all the love and good intentions in the world you’re poison to one another and the most loving thing to do was free each other.”
“We certainly were poison for each other when we made that vow.”
“How long’s he been out for?”
“It’s his fourth day,” confirmed Jenna.
“Someone’s been counting.”
“I’m always counting. Leon’s been out of prison four days; Spencer hasn’t called me in 36 hours.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well if Spencer’s genuinely interested in me, he’ll get in touch. I’m not going to chase him. He’s probably resting his feet. I’m surprised the soles of his shoes weren’t worn out chasing those three girls around on Friday night.”
Kelly laughed. “Even so, he endured the pain of threadbare sneakers to get you to Paris. He’s demonstrating something in there for you by not calling the weekend off after a hangover. You can’t fault his commitment.”
Jenna smiled. Rarely did she like people seeing her true feelings, particularly when it came to matters of the heart. Her love life with Leon had been a car crash that everyone witnessed. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through the same thing again with Spencer so publicly.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if I was part of some contest or joke he’s devised with his posh pals.”
“My God you’re being paranoid and negative.”
“What did you expect after those pictures?”
“I expected you to pick up the phone and ring him there and then for an explanation. I thought he liked your openness.”
“Well I don’t like how distant he is. If I stretch a hand out with an olive branch, I don’t want to be humiliated when he slaps it away and reminds of the expiration dates of his lovers.”