From Humble Beginnings (Joe Steel)

by Ian Harwood

  Acknowledgments

  First to my long suffering wife who put up with the two years it took to assemble all of my gibberish.

  Also to my family and friends, probably with me not taking too much attention and consideration of their problems.

  To my publicity expert Nikki, for trolling through the internet finding the best available advertising.

  To my computer expert Richard, for recovering all the information on the computer when it crashed.

  And not for getting my partner in crime Gemma , aka Serena , aka plonker , (she knows what I mean) Author in her own Write, yes it was meant to be a pun !

  From

  Humble Beginnings

  By

  Ian Harwood

  The right of Ian Leonard Harwood to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author. First Kindle Edition, November 2013 Copyright © Ian Leonard Harwood 2013

  Synopsis:

  All his life, Joe Steel has dreamed of more. Having dragged himself out of the council estates in England’s capital, money isn’t his only goal, because he has enough of that already. He wants power, he wants position and he wants Juliet.

  As the daughter of the managing director of his firm, Juliet should be out of bounds. But when the top man himself, Bernard Rustin, starts to match make, Juliet’s his for the taking.

  However a recent promotion to the Director of Overseas Development means he can’t exactly take what he wants when he’s thousands of miles away from London and in the heart of Italy. Especially when Juliet’s determined to play hard to get.

  In the depths of the Milanese countryside is a factory that will be the making of his career; if he can successfully transform it into a viable operation. With his skills and experience, it shouldn’t be too difficult, but when the local mafia get involved and a policeman’s mutilated hand shows up at Joe’s door, the situation is far out of his league.

  Will they stop him from attaining everything he wants? Or will nothing stand in Joe’s way? Always a fighter, he’s no stranger to clawing his way towards his goals, but with the mafia dogging at his heels, will he survive long enough to become anything more than Just Joe.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Normal kids are few and far between these days and I’m no different. I started the same way most people do, attending school in a building that looks more like a prison. And with a name like Park Hurst High, is it any wonder the kids nicknamed it ‘the Prison’.

  It wasn’t all crap. I did meet my first wife there. A skinny little thing, all eyes and no confidence. No top bits, a metal railing on her teeth, so not really snogging material. But I’ve always looked outside the box; saw past the iron work and the fried egg tits. Lucky for me I did, especially at sixteen, when nature did us both a favour.

  Although, I guess in the scheme of things, a favour isn’t what you’d term it. We became a statistic. Teen parents, with no prospects and no hope of anything but a life on a council estate.

  To my peers, I’d attained the ultimate. Council flat, benefits and all before I turned seventeen. But for me, it was the pits. I left school and dove into a factory, accepting all the work and overtime I could. Anything to raise us from the council estate and help us dive into a better life.

  Rustins Modiste Corp was closest to my parents’ house and even though I knew less about clothes than I did about babies, I soon signed on. My first wage packet paid for the pram. Not that the pram was ever used. When Brook fell down the stairs and lost the baby, my already up-turned life had imploded yet again.

  I threw myself into my job, eventually caught the eye of my superiors and was promoted. Shame my marriage wasn’t as successful. Brook and I split and to this day, I haven’t seen her. I don’t really want to; it’s a reminder of a failure. And while my early life was filled with that, I soon grew out of the phase.

  I worked my way up the ladder; worked long and hard to be noticed and eventually it paid off. The top man himself spotted me and took me from the factory floor to the executive level. Not that it was appreciated. My fellow school-tie sporting and university degree- toting execs resented me and still do. They’re about as useful as a chocolate teapot and can’t see why Bernard Rustin, the head man, would appreciate someone with their feet on the ground and capable of looking at the bigger picture.

  For sixteen years, I’ve been the underdog. But I’ve a feeling this year, is going to be my year. Thirty-two, you don’t know what’s hit you.

  Chapter One

  Glee was too small a word to describe the elation pumping through my blood as I left Rustin’s office. Even though I’ve had the feeling for a long while that things were going to turn up this way, it’s still hard to believe that after all these years of slog, I’ve done it.

  Director of Overseas Development.

  Christ.

  Little Joe Steel. All grown up, free from the council estate and on his way to the top.

  Because, call me cocky, that’s where I’m heading. After this promotion, I’m practically a shoe in for Rustin’s position, when the old bastard retires. If he retires that is.

  Even though I covet the man’s position and, God help me, his daughter, I’m not counting down the days for that to happen. Bernard can be a pain in the arse, but he’s a bloody good boss. Especially to me. It’s because of him that I’m where I am today. He saw the spark in me, the glodny, as he phrases it. He dragged me from the shop floor of one of his factories and helped form me into the manager of that factory and the other six in Bernard’s possession.

  How can I be anything but grateful?

  My feet are almost an inch from the floor as I float down the executive hallway. Cass, Bernard’s PA, deigns to grin at me as I pass her desk and that break in her usually cast-iron composure tells me I must look like the Cheshire cat.

  What an understatement!

  I’m as high as a kite and nothing and nobody will pull me down.

  “How’s it feel, Joseph?”

  For some reason, Bernard and Cass refuse to call me Joe. I always felt as though they were putting me in my place; reminding me of my youth, my background and lack of experience, but now… it’s almost as though the pair of them have been rearing me. Strange thought, but as I look at her and as I think back to Bernard’s face with the proud cast of his features as he informed me of the promotion… Well, there’s a definite parental aspect to their pleasure in my good fortune.

  Despite myself, I’m touched. On a day like today, with the future bright: something which Bernard and this woman are solely responsible for, how can I be anything but moved? I’m not exactly known for my softer side, but I do know which side my bread is buttered.

  “It feels good, Cass.” I grimace as
soon as I’ve finished speaking; hating the triteness of my words, but it’s all I can manage. I’m not capable of much more at the moment.

  She pats my hand in a motherly fashion; which is perverse, because she’s only about ten years older than me, and says, “You’ll get used to it. You earned it, the hard way; not like some of the ponces holding Director positions. You know this business inside out, from top to bottom. Who better for the role? Just don’t fuck this up, Joe.”

  I don’t even bother to take affront. “I won’t, Cass.” Shooting a quick grin her way, I head towards my office. The glass-paned walls enable me to see into other offices and maybe it makes me a bighead, but that the rest of the Directors can see my shit-eating grin makes me smile all the harder.

  Because Joe, degree-less, school tie-less, nobody Joe has taken the pole position. Right from under their feet.

  “Well, just see that you don’t!” she hollers after me.

  Spinning on my heel, I wink at her; enjoy her glare of outrage and turn back on to my original path: the office that won’t be mine for much longer.

  And with it in sight, instantly, my mood collapses.

  Like a foghorn pounding through my head, my mind shrieks ‘mistake’ as I see Sandra perched on her old desk, obviously waiting for me.

  Sexy, deceitful, slutty Sandra.

  And I’ve no choice but to walk towards her, to deal with her now.

  Strange how my past and my future have decided to collide at this exact moment, when the present had been on the brink of perfection.

  I refuse to let her get to me; refuse to feel anything but fury at her duplicitous nature. I’ve never been one for making mistakes. I’m too cautious, too careful. Weighing all the odds to make sure the outcome rests in my favour. And yet, I cocked up big time here and don’t I know it?

  All signs of happiness gone, I slam my palm against the door, follow the movement of the hinges, ignore the wobble of the glass partitions and stride into the domain into which she’s dared to intrude. The instant she heard the clatter, she jumped to her feet and in an almost modest pose, with her hands clasped over her stomach, shot a beseeching look my way.

  Big blue eyes flutter at me amidst thick black lashes, but I’m immune to her charms now. To be honest, I was never all that addicted. She’s probably the first mistake I’ve made on my journey along the hallowed halls of the corporate world; but she’ll sure as hell be my last.

  The ultimate cliché: boss and secretary. I’m ashamed to admit my foolishness to myself, especially knowing what a poisonous witch she really is.

  “Joe. Please, listen to me. Just hear me out.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, Sandra. Why are you here anyway? ”

  “I wanted to congratulate you. The news hit the PA pool thirty minutes ago.”

  Typical. The PAs knew before I did! Christ, what don’t they know?

  “I don’t want your congratulations. I don’t want anything from you, do you understand me?”

  “I understand you loud and clear, Joe, but I think you’re making a mistake. A huge one.”

  “No. My mistake was looking at you and seeing anything but a cheap whore.”

  Those blue eyes flashed murder. “I’m not a cheap whore, but you don’t understand. I keep telling you that. Coke… it’s just for fun. That’s all. And how else do you think I look like this? It keeps me this way.”

  In a move intended to entice, she released the gentle clasp of her hands and sent one palm roaming upwards until she was cupping a breast and the other following the shape of her taut waist and curvy hips.

  I don’t deny that the woman is gorgeous. Damn, I’m not blind! The minute Cass assigned her to my department, I could see that. But I’ve never been one to be ruled by dick. Until Sandra, that is.

  Damn it to hell for malfunctioning, when I’m two steps away from attaining everything I’ve ever wanted!

  “Well, cocaine isn’t my idea of fun. Nor is walking into my own bloody apartment to the sounds of you fucking some drug dealer.”

  “It wasn’t like that!”

  “No? Well, maybe my eyes are going, because it looked like that to me! Or am I wrong? You weren’t pimping yourself out to get your next fix?”

  “It’s the way of life for a model, Joe. Surely you know that!”

  “I know no such thing. You were a model, Sandra. Past tense. Not anymore.”

  “If you wanted, I’d go into rehab.” She made the offer seem like a huge deal. I’d do anything for you; her voice said. Sickening. At least, I thought so until she had the audacity to add, “I just want to be with you.”

  “Excuse me while I throw up.” With a huff of laughter, I ask, “Let me guess, I’d have to fund the rehab?”

  “Well, I don’t have the money for it and what with your new promotion… surely you can afford it?” There’s a coyness to the look she shoots my way that doesn’t set well with me. The pouty curve to her lips that tells me she’s trying to entice me.

  She’s failing miserably.

  If there’s one thing I demand from a partner, it’s loyalty. And the minute I spotted Sandra with Christ knows who and in my bloody bed, that was it.

  Nothing would entice me back to that.

  “Maybe you have the idea that my wage packet will fund your habit, but you’re seriously wrong. You’re lucky that I transferred you to the PA pool; that I didn’t fire you or tell Bernard about your extra-curricular activities.”

  She glares at me and strides over; teetering on too high, high heels to come within touching distance to poke me in the chest with a manicured nail. “And don’t you think that I could do the same? What would old Rustin say if he knew what you got up to in the bedroom? Everyone knows that you’re the apple of his eye, but he’s as traditional as they come and don’t you forget it!”

  Grabbing her wrist, I jerk her hand away and grip it tightly until she squeaks at the pressure I’m placing on the joint. I’m not a violent man, but there’s no way that I’m letting her think she can blackmail me.

  “Bernard might be old-fashioned and I might or might not be the apple of his damn eye, but don’t you dare think you can damage my relationship with that man. What I do in the privacy of my own home is my business and if it’s between consenting adults, then you’ve even less fire to fan the flames.” She made to butt in, but before she could utter a word, I hiss, “And don’t think you can try and make out that you weren’t consenting, because you were; every step of the way. And if you want, I’ll go and tell Cass what you get up to behind closed doors and she can fire you and set you out on the street like the slut you are.”

  “I won’t give up on us, Joe.” The warning was a peculiar one. I’m not entirely sure if she won’t be giving up on the idea of being able to con me out of some money or if her ego is too huge to believe that she isn’t entirely replaceable.

  “You can do what you bloody like, Sandra, but we are no longer together. Do you understand me? I’ve already had myself tested, because of you. Had to go through the indignity of seeing if you passed some disease on to me. You might be a pretty package, but you’re poison through and through. I’ll let you know if I have picked up something; I’ll make sure to sue you for knowingly transmitting it to me. Two can play at making threats,” I bite out, taking pleasure in her flush.

  “I’m perfectly healthy! What do you think I am?”

  “I’ve already told you. A whore. A drug-riddled whore. Who knows who you’ve fucked to feed your habit?” She wasn’t to know that I’d already had a preliminary blood test back. I’m clear so far, thank God. I’ll get the all clear in a few months’ time.

  The sheer indignity of having had to go to my doctor and request such a test makes my dealings with her now all the meaner. Humiliation has never been my perversion, my idea of a fun time.

  Well, never again.

  “It was just the one time!” Her whine hurts my ears.

  “That’s a lie. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my ey
es. I know you for what you are, Sandra and that’s what hurts your vanity. I see the real you and it isn’t the glamorous ex-model you like to paint yourself as.”

  I begin to walk forwards, forcing her into retreating until her behind knocks into the desk. Placing my hands beside her hips on the desk’s edge, I crowd her as much as I can. Intimidating a woman isn’t the highlight of my day and before this occasion and the moment I saw her with another man, I’d acted the complete gentleman around her. But not anymore. Not when she’s threatening everything I hold dear.

  I’m not a greedy man, just an ambitious one. I want more for myself; crave it like my body craves oxygen to survive. I will not be like my father; content to subsist on a minimum wage salary, pleased with the house the council rents him.

  I want more. I’ve worked my arse off for the last sixteen years; working up through the ranks to reach this position.

  And Sandra will not get in my way.

  “You better listen, Sandra and listen well. This is my final warning. This is the last time I want to see you. If I even cross you in the corridor, you’d better duck into an office to get away from me. You think you can threaten me?” I jeer. “You think you can blackmail me? Well, let’s get this right. You’re no one, nothing. No one gives a toss about what an old has-been like you has to say. And if they did, if you did make up a round of lies and decided to present them to someone -someone who was stupid enough to believe you- then I’ll show them something of my own.”

  Rearing backwards and out of her personal space, I slip a hand into my pocket and pull out my phone. I scroll through the pictures on the camera roll and hold it up; when I reach the one I want her to see.

  At her gasp of horror, I grin. “Yeah. I took that photo. And look what other photos I took.”

  There were three, all in all.

  Mid-coitus. A face shot of the guy. And, more importantly, the bedside table. Complete with lines of coke, all ready for after she’d finished paying off her dues.

  “Get out. Now.” The words were uttered in the softest tone I’d used with her and yet, she stared at me as though she didn’t recognize me. Like a rabbit caught in headlights.