“What have you got planned for today, Deac?” Mum asks as I drive her back into town.
She got up this morning and made coffee in thermos cups, and I take a sip before I answer.
“I’ve got some blue prints to finish before my meeting tomorrow, and then I’ll go to one of the jobs and see if I’m needed.”
She nods, obviously glad I won't be spending the day moping; my mood was anything but jovial when I got up this morning after a sleepless night.
“And what about,” she pauses to think, “you, know. The Jenna thing.”
“Don't pry, Mum.”
“I’m not.” She has the cheek to look shocked. As much as I want to talk to her, I know she’ll try to work some magic. And magic isn’t what I need, “I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” I pull up outside her house and avoid eye contact, “I don’t need anyone’s help. It’s just Jenna.”
She sighs and I can see her shaking her head, but she climbs out of the truck and goes inside without another word said. It’s just Jenna. I can’t believe I said that. There is no ‘just Jenna’. She’s everything. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, and drive off towards the yard. Some manual labour might get me out of this funk.
When I reach the site where the boys are building the foundations for a development of contemporary but country-style houses, I pull on my black steel-toe caps and head to the site office.
“Acton.” I call to the man in charge of the operation. He’s been drafted over from Surrey and I think he’s sleeping in this office, judging by the state of the place and the fact he’s asleep on the worn brown leather sofa in the corner of the trailer.
He springs to life when I call him and jumps up to shake my hand. I nod towards the door and we exit, walking along the dirt path which is soon to be the entrance lane for the houses.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s going alright. The foundations are going okay. A couple of the boys are having issues with the joists, but they’ll get the hang of it.”
“They know the rule? Half the span plus two inches.”
“Yeah, of course. They’re getting ‘em down alright. They just look shabby.”
“Shabby isn’t good enough, mate. How are they supposed to support a floor with shit joists?”
“I’ll check over them, Deacon.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got some free time. I’ll go over the fitting with them.”
We stop at the first house, where a few are working on getting the joists down. They’re concentrating on work and don’t notice I’m there so I watch their technique. Acton disappears further down the road to check on the next house.
“The problem you’ve got there,” I interrupt them and they stand to greet me like the boss. I like that, “is those joist hangers. If you don’t get them in straight then the joists and the herringbone struts won't be straight.”
They look back to their work, like I’ve just given them the answer to life.
“Take them off and line them up properly. Come here.”
The four of them join me at the edge of the foundation and I crouch down. They follow and I point at how their work is clearly wonky, from eye level.
“See. I’ll help you out, get the ball rolling. Take your time, I’ve put a load of money into these houses and they have to be safe. All above board, no corners cut.”
I stand up, jump into the space and start taking the joists out.
“Thanks, boss.” Ricky says slapping me on the back as they all join me.
I’m hot and sweaty and covered in dirt from working. It took me a good few hours to mentor them into fitting everything properly and make sure it was lined up that I didn’t manage to move on to the next lot. I can go back Friday and check on them.
I climb back in the truck and head into town; I’ve run out of milk, and can't be bothered to drive the extra fifteen miles to the nearest supermarket. I park up in the harbour car park and jump out.
I spot Jenna walking towards me as I pass the tourist shop. She’s on the phone but I know that she’s noticed me; I feel like last night was the beach night all over again. I don’t know what to say, how to react, or how she’s going to react. She looks up from looking at the floor and raises her eyebrows to show her acknowledgement, but walks straight past me.
“I told you I didn’t think I’d be back,” I hear her say heatedly, “look its Wednesday, you’ll be back in a few days, I’ll see you when you get here.” She puts her phone in the back pocket of her light blue jeans and I stop and watch her walk away.
It’s hot today; it’s got to be the hottest day of this year, and she’s wearing a white strapless top; hints of a tan line are visible on her shoulders, and I watch her as her hair brushes across her back, blowing gently in the breeze and swinging from her bouncy walk. God, I love watching her walk. She stops outside the coffee shop and I see Bradley stand up to greet her. He hugs her and they sit down at a table outside. He’s got Sasha, his ex-girlfriend’s dog with him and Jenna leans down to stroke her. I laugh at the little terrier sitting at Brad’s feet; I find it hilarious that he and Rachel are sharing custody of a dog.
I turn and carry on walking, into the newsagents and pick up some milk. I look at the green lid on the carton, and pick another one, a fatty blue-topped one. Just in case.
“You look filthy, Deacon,” Grace, Jonas’ girlfriend says as she taps the amounts in the till.
I smile and shrug. Maybe I should have gone home to shower before I came to town. I give her the money, pick up the carrier bag and leave the shop. I don’t know how Jonas got such a pretty girlfriend; he’s the scruffiest bloke I’ve ever known and she looks like a pixie - short black hair and as skinny as they come. I half expect her to sprout wings and start talking to animals.
I laugh to myself again and walk on, stopping outside a little trinket shop. I look in the window and can't stop my feet from going in. I buy the necklace that’s in the window. The chucky red beads look like balls of fire and they instantly remind me of Jenna. I take the paper bag and leave the shop.
Bradley and Jenna are still outside the coffee shop so I walk straight up to their table, and crouch down to stroke Sasha.
“Hey girl.” I stroke her under the chin and she wags her tail like a metronome on speed.
“What’s up bro?” Brad asks.
“Nothing much, just been helping out at the new houses in Foster. That job is like one big bag of snakes.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah. When I got there today they’d laid wonky floor supports.”
Brad grimaces and I stand up and look at Jenna, who’s tapping on her phone.
“Hey, Jen.”
“Hey.” She replies, not looking up from her phone and takes a sip of her coffee. She sneaks a look at me and her cheeks flush instantly. I smirk.
“I’ve got some work to do at home so I’m gonna shoot.”
I shake hands with Brad and put the paper bag on the table in front of Jenna, on top of her phone.
“To go with your new hair. See you later.”
I walk back towards the car, but not before I hear her gasp as she opens the bag.
~
I pull up at the Halliwell Country Club, and the valet takes my car. I brought the M3 convertible today; it’s still hot so I thought I’d stretch her legs. Plus it screams country club.
“Mr. Crane, hi,” he stands to greet me as I arrive and I sit at the little table opposite him, putting my briefcase under my chair.
“Please, call me Paul. Lovely weather to meet at the country club. Great idea, Deacon.”
“Thanks.”
A waitress appears at our table, dressed in a black dress with a white apron. I can't help but study her as she takes Paul’s order.
“I’ll have a gin, on the rocks please.” he orders. Gin?
“I’ll have an orange juice, and a double espresso,” Paul looks at me like I’m crazy fo
r not drinking, “I’m driving.”
“Ah, I’ll let you off then,” the waitress writes down the order and disappears back into the conservatory style cafe, “So how did you get on with the blue prints?”
“They’re all drawn up,” I pull my briefcase out and hold it on my lap, flicking through what I drew up last night, “the extension won’t be a problem. We’ll have to put some scaffolding up, so if I could ask you to organise some different routes that that the public could take to avoid being near the supports. Some signs or something would be great. Other than that we should be good to go in about three weeks. Providing you like the drawings, obviously.”
He nods and mumbles incoherently to himself as he looks through the pages of different ideas I’ve had. I thank the waitress for the drinks when she brings them over, as he fails to acknowledge she’s made a return.
“I like this one,” he finally says, handing it over to me, “that’s exactly what I had in mind.”
“No worries, that’s the one we’ll go for. I’ll sort out the finalised copy and get it faxed over to you.”
“Don’t you ever rest, Mr. Reid?” he asks, sitting back and steepling his hands in front of his mouth. I thought he’d be eager to get off once he had what he wanted from me.
“Yes, I do. I just prefer to get all my work done, first. This job is on the top of the company’s priority list, so I’m sure you can understand my urgency to get the plans right,”
“Of course. You just seem like the kind of man who sleeps at the office frequently.”
“I live next door to it, Paul.”
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, “A young man like you should be out enjoying life, not building it away.”
I’m about to answer when the atmosphere in the air changes, like something has happened to the gravitational pull, and I’ve just been electrified. The minute I turn my head, she walks straight past me, and once again I get to see the back of Jenna as she walks. How can we bump into each other this often, and what the hell is she doing here?
“Deacon?” Pauls tried to get my attention and orders another gin.
“With respects, if I was out enjoying life, I wouldn’t have produced the prints you wanted and wouldn’t have the organisational skills to put together the teams to do the job.”
“Fair point well made.” He laughs.
I’m not paying attention. I’m more interested in Jenna and who the man is that she’s meeting. I’ve never seen him before; he’s not from Folquay and he’s not Kip. Even thinking about that pompous shithead makes me want to punch something. But now who is this one? She had the audacity to look down on me about my...acquaintances, when here she is with man-in-a-suit number two. What a hypocrite.
Mr. Crane’s phone rings and I’m forced to pay attention to him. The call is quick, with barely a word said on his part.
“I’m afraid,” he says putting the phone in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, “I’m going to have cut our meeting short. Duty calls.”
Thank god.
“I understand. Another time.” I lie.
He stands and does the buttons on his jacket up, calling to the waitress to put the drinks on his tab.
“I look forward to seeing the final drafts. Great to see you.”
I stand up and take his proffered hand.
“You too.”
He leaves and I turn my attention back to the Jenna, who is wearing a white work dress and sitting metres from me. I felt her presence the moment she stepped outside, but she hasn’t noticed me. I’ve seen this way too many times to not understand what’s going on here. She can't sit still; she changes which legs she’s got crossed five times in the few minutes I sit and watch her. She twirls a piece of hair around her finger, her strappy shoe dangling from her toes, and she’s running the backs of her fingers up and down her throat. The guy opposite her looks like he just won the lottery and there is no doubt in my mind that this is a date.
But then she turns her head in my direction, looks straight at me and my assumptions fly into reverse. Bingo.
She looks away instantly but she’s played the first hand. And, she’s wearing the necklace I bought her yesterday. I finish my drink and stand up from the table, making my way over to where she is sitting with a vertically challenged man who is hanging on her every word.
“What are you doing?” I stand next to her chair, and completely ignore who she’s with.
“Are you serious?” She asks as her eyes widen in shock. She turns her entire body to face me, one hand gripping the back of her chair, the other on the lip of the glass table.
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“I’m about to have lunch. Have you got a problem with me eating now?” Jenna stands up, challenging me, and folds her arms. My eyes travel to her exposed cleavage, I can’t help it. I want to laugh at petite Jenna trying to be tough, but the anger radiating off her tells me to tread carefully.
“I’ve got a problem with you being here with him.” I point to her lunch companion without looking at him, “Aren’t you supposed to have a boyfriend?”
“Oh, Deacon,” she squeezes the bridge of her nose, “you are so far off the mark right now”
“What are you talking about? You judged me for my lifestyle yet you’ve been back in town for two minutes and I’ve seen you with two blokes. I thought you had more self respect than that.”
“Don't do it.” She says calmly, but I can see the rage rippling just below the surface, “You have no right to judge me, when you don’t know me. Don’t paint me with the same brush as you because of your sordid lifestyle.”
“Clearly our lifestyles have something in common.”
I turn to the guy sitting with her and he looks more than amused, shaking his head and smirking.
“Something funny, mate?”
He shakes his head, continuing to smile, as someone clears their throat behind me. I turn around to see another man and a quirky hippy woman standing behind me. I recognise the hippy and the humiliation hits me like the slap in the face I’m sure Jenna wants to give me. I’m in trouble.
“Deacon?” Jenna says and I turn back to her. I missed something significant here. Like the other two chairs at the table, “Abbie, Carl and Anthony. Abbie is running my shop in Camden, Carl runs the shop in Covent Garden, and Anthony here is his partner.”
“Shit.”
She nods, and walks away from the table, leading me to a corner by the tennis courts and out of ear shot. I grimace, thinking I’m going to get it. If only I’d watched her for five more minutes. I look back over to her table as her friends all look away. It’s obvious the man I thought she was on a date with is not interested in women, by the way he scoots his chair closer to his partner and takes hold of his hand.
“If you dare do anything like that again, I will not be held accountable for my actions. What are you doing here Deacon?”
“I had a business lunch.”
“Right. Clearly you are a busy and talented businessman, hence why when I saw you I didn’t say hello in case it was unprofessional considering your reason for being here. Now say I was here negotiating a business deal, like the busy business woman that I am, do you think I’d have anything to negotiate after that stunt you just pulled?”
Shit again. I hadn’t thought about that.
“I didn’t think about it like that.”
“Clearly. I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to back off. How am I supposed to get on with my life back here with you breathing down my neck?”
“I’m not – I just. Fuck it. I’m sorry, okay?” She nods.
“I’ve got to get back to my four way affair before I’m declared bankrupt.” She takes a deep breath and her expression relaxes, “Thanks for the necklace.”
She taps me on the shoulder as she walks past and it sends shockwaves through my body, her touch literally vibrating through me. I turn around and watch her trying to compose herself as she walks back to her table. I do
n’t know what’s going on with us, but it’s fucking with my mental state.
Chapter 6
Jenna
“What was that about?” Anthony asks as I sit back down at the table.
I shake my head and pour us all a large glass of wine. I don’t want to talk about this.
“I know that look,” Abbie squeaks, “I’m going to guess that was enigmatic Deacon Reid?”
“Your investigative skills know no bounds, Abs.” I tie my hair back to get it off my neck and hope that’s all I have to say, but they’re looking at me like it’s hot gossip, “Yes, that was Deacon Reid. He’s arrogant, he’s rude and he thinks he can just waltz in and out of my life whenever he feels like it. I’m having the salmon.”
I invited Abbie and Carl here so they can help me with the opening of the new bakery. It won't be ready for a couple of months, but I need to copy over the recipe books, make sure they’re okay handling the business with a boss who’s a hundred miles away and they’ve brought some photos of the other two shops so I can keep the theme the same in the Folquay store. Carl decided to bring Anthony with him so they could spend the weekend here together, which is fine by me since we’ve bonded many times over rosé and chick flicks.
“Salmon sounds good. Is it caught here?” Carl asks.
“Seriously?” I laugh, “Is Alaskan Salmon caught in British Waters? I would say that’s a no.”
“Well you live near the sea, fish are caught in the sea. I don’t care about specifics, unless we’re specifying just how gorgeous that beacon is.”
Second Chance Hero Page 6