Big Daddy Sinatra: Charles In Charge (Big Daddy Sinatra Series Book 6)

by Mallory Monroe

  “I had to put all the ice in it,” she said.

  But he wasn’t listening. He was too busy placing it beneath his shirt onto his bruised stomach.

  “Maybe you should go to the emergency room, Pa,” Shania suggested.

  “Ain’t nobody going to no emergency room,” he said as he elbowed her aside, still holding the ice pack to his stomach, and made his way toward the living room. He laid down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Every inch of his body was hurting.

  “Give me more pillows,” he ordered, and Shania hurriedly grabbed the pillows from the two chairs and placed them beneath her father’s head.

  “Knock knock.”

  Both father and daughter turned to the sound. When Jesse saw who it was, he relaxed. He even laid his head back down and closed his eyes. “What do you want?” he asked.

  “I hear you had a run-in with Big Daddy Sinatra.”

  Jesse’s blood boiled at just the mention of that name. “Wait till I catch up with his big ass.”

  But the visitor smiled. “Don’t get mad, Jesse,” he said. “Let’s get even.”

  Jesse opened his eyes. And looked at his visitor. “What you got in mind?” he asked him.

  “You do what I say, and the way I say it, and you’re going to not only have your revenge, but have everything that man owns. You, Jesse Colbert, are going to bring Big Daddy Sinatra to his knees. How about that? Intrigued?”

  Jesse was more than intrigued. “But how?” he said.

  “Act as a middle man,” he said. “Visit somebody who hate him as much as you do, and will pay to take care of him.”

  “That’s damn-near the whole town.”

  The visitor smiled. “Exactly right. Are you in?”

  Jesse didn’t have to think twice. “Oh, hell yeah,” he said. “After what that bastard did to me? I’m as in as in can get,” he added.

  Norm had ordered one of the waitresses to clean up the coffee Jenay had spilled, and had, himself, returned to his duties as chef. The Jericho Inn restaurant was virtually empty, as it usually was post-breakfast and pre-lunch. Jenay and Percy were sitting at the table alone, across from one another. And Jenay was still stunned beyond belief.

  “How can it be?” she was asking him. Her face was frowned with doubt and apprehension, and total confusion. “I got that letter. I must have read it a hundred times. How can you be sitting here right now? How can it be? If I had the money I would have went there. I wanted to go to Botswana myself and see your body, and see for myself. But how was I going to get to Africa? I could barely pay my rent back then.”

  “I know, Jenay,” Percy said. “And I did not want to hurt you. I still do not. That is why I stayed away this long.”

  “But this isn’t making any sense Perce! How can you be sitting here? That letter said you had died. That letter from your parents said you died instantly in a car crash and you were already buried. That letter said they only found out about me while going through your things. They apologized for the lateness of the letter, and for the awful news, but that was that. I couldn’t eat or sleep or do anything for nearly a month after that. It was so awful I refused to even mention that chapter in my life to anyone after that. I erased you from my entire being. But you’re telling me that letter, your death, was all a lie?”

  Tears appeared in Jenay’s confused eyes. She wiped away the tears harshly. She was angry and happy, but mostly just perplexed as hell. What in the world was going on?

  “The accident was real,” Percy said. His African accent was controlled and very formal, and his English pitch perfect. Just as she had remembered it. “I had only been back in Botswana for two days when the taxi driver lost control of his vehicle and went over a cliff. It was a horrific accident. Nobody survived initially.”

  “Except you,” Jenay said.

  He nodded his head. “Except me, yes. They rushed me to hospital, but the prognosis was not good. I had been in a coma for twenty-eight days. I learned of your efforts to find me later on. I learned that you had attempted to reach my parents, who lived in the village and was not accessible to such amenities as phone service. I learned that you had even reached out to the Botswana embassy to see if they could help.”

  “I tried everything. I even tried to raise money to go to Africa myself, but my friends were as broke as I was, and my parents flatly told me no. They weren’t about to bankroll my going to a foreign country to find a man who probably didn’t want to be found. I tried everything, Perce. And you were in a coma?”

  “For nearly a month, yes,” Percy said. “When I came to, the doctors remained skeptical. They said if I lived, and that was a very big if, I was going to be an invalid for the rest of my life. That was what the doctors had said. I remembered you when I first came to. I told my parents I have a girlfriend back in the States, and she has to be reached. She’s worrying sick I am sure. But when the doctors told me about my prognosis; when they told me I would be paralyzed, an invalid, for the rest of my life, I knew I couldn’t even begin to try and reach you then.”

  “But why, Perce?”

  “What do you mean why? I was not going to let you take care of me for the rest of your days. That would not be fair to you. You were not my wife. You were not my parent. You had no such responsibility to me. So I . . .”

  Jenay stared at him, still unable to believe that he was sitting right in front of her. “So you what?” she asked him.

  “So I told my parents to send you that note. I told them to tell you about the accident, and how it killed everybody, including me, and how I was already buried. I needed you to understand the finality and move on with your life. I knew it would be painful for you at first.”

  “Painful?” Jenay asked, with nothing but pure pain in her voice. The tears were coming uncontrollably now, but she was wiping them away as fast as they were coming. He offered his handkerchief. She accepted it. “That news was more than painful, Perce. It was . . . It was devastating. I didn’t know if I was going to make it through. If it had not been for my faith, I might not have.”

  “But you made it through, Jenay,” Percy said. “And, as I knew you would, you moved on. You graduated from that hospitality college in Boston. I know because I checked. You went on to come here, to Jericho, and run this fine hotel. And,” he added, although she could see the change in his eyes, “you married the hotel’s owner. But none of it would have been possible had I been selfish and told you about my plight.”

  “The doctors said you would be an invalid,” Jenay said, “but that didn’t happen?”

  “Oh, yes, it happened,” Percy said quickly. “For several months thereafter, I was very much unable to walk or do anything for myself. I began a rehabilitation program that they said could help, but even that wasn’t supposed to do very much. But, as always,” he said with a smile, “I exceeded expectations. I regained strength in my legs, and I did walk again. But it took years, Jenay. It did not happen overnight. And by that time, it was too late. I knew it was. I lived and worked in Africa, in Gaborone, deciding not to return to the States. Until now.”

  “What changed? Why now?”

  “I received an appointment as a Diplomatic Attaché at the Botswanan embassy in DC. It was then, and only then, that I decided to check up on you. To make sure you were okay. My investigation led me here, to this town in Maine. I was surprised. I always fancied you a big-city girl. But I guess you’ve changed too.”

  He’d never know how much Jenay had changed! She used to think that any relationship after her divorce would be a rebound romance. She had just gotten out of an awful marriage with Quincy, and just wanted to be left alone. Then she met Percy. They were friends at first, and then lovers. And then much more. It wasn’t a long romance, but it was like a whirlwind. Fast and wonderful. When Percy left to go visit his family in Botswana, they had been together for only six months.

  But as they continued to talk, and as Percy continued to try and get her to understand why he absolutely had to let her go all tho
se years ago, Jenay ultimately asked the all-important question. “Why are you here?” she asked. “And please don’t say you just wanted to check up on me. Why are you here?”

  Percy pushed his lips in, and then back out again. He was going to be frank with her. “I want you back, Jenay,” he said bluntly.

  Jenay suspected as much, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She had a new life now. A new man. But those feelings she once felt for Percy were still there. Doggonit they were still there! And Jenay was overwhelmed. Tears came again, and she couldn’t wipe them all away.

  And then Donald Sinatra, Big Daddy’s youngest son, entered the restaurant. He wanted to grab a Coke before he made his way across town to meet with vendors. He didn’t see his stepmother in the place, and she didn’t see him, because she was occupied with her own grief, and because he saw a waitress he liked, Bev, at the counter. He hurried in her direction.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said with a smile.

  Bev was wiping down the countertop, but was staring off in the distance as she wiped.

  Donald snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey? Over here. Bev?”

  It was only after he said her name did she snap out of her gaze, and looked at Donald. “Oh! Hey, Donnie. What’s up?”

  “What’s up with you? I was standing here for ten minutes already!”

  “Yeah, right, sure you were.”

  “Why were you so distracted?”

  Bev was surprised that he didn’t see for himself. “Over there,” she said. “Your stepmother with a man. A very attractive man, I might add.”

  Donald immediately looked in the direction Bev was pointing. When he saw Jenay with Percy, he was curious. But when he saw that Jenay was wiping tears from her eyes, and that Percy had reached out and was holding both of her hands, and she allowed it, he was more than curious. He was peeved. “What the hell,” he said out loud. Nobody comforted his mother like that but his father! He wanted to go over there, and find out for himself just what that guy was up to, but he knew Jenay would cuss him out for getting all up in her business. Jenay was a firecracker. She didn’t play that, and Donald knew it. She would cuss his ass out easily.

  But she wouldn’t be cussing out his father.

  He asked Bev to get him a Coke quick, he took the Coke, and then hurried off, to go tell his father.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Charles had just parked his car in front of his storefront office in downtown Jericho, when Jenay’s Mercedes drove up. It parked beside Charles’s Jag, and the passenger window was pressed down. Charles leaned inside. When he saw that it was Donald behind the wheel, he bristled. “Jenay know you’re driving her car?”

  Donald smiled. “Why are you worrying about her car?”

  “Because I paid for it,” Charles shot back. “Answer my question.”

  “Of course she knows, Dad,” Donald said. “Unlike you, she does let me drive it to take care of hotel business.”

  “What business are you taking care of? Other than flipping birds with your mouth.”

  Donald laughed. “I have a meeting with vendors, thank you very much. A meeting I’m already late for.”

  “You’re late? Then what are you doing here if you’re late?”

  That was when Donald’s cheeriness left. And reality hit. “I needed to tell you something, Daddy,” he said.

  Charles waited for him to tell him. It could be something major. Or it could be a load of nonsense. You could never tell with Donald. But when he didn’t immediately get on with it, Charles stared at him. He could see real concern on his son’s narrow face. “What is it?” he asked him.

  “It’s Ma,” Donald said.

  Charles heart began to tighten. “What about her?”

  “She’s over at the Inn with some dude.”

  Charles frowned. “What do you mean with some dude? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s at the Inn with some great-looking, tall black dude like I said,” Donald said. Then he added the crucial point: “She was crying, and they were holding hands.”

  When Charles heard that she was crying, his heart dropped. When he heard that some other man was comforting her, his anger flared. And without asking Donald another question, he got back into his Jag, backed up, and sped off.

  Donald watched his father leave. He watched him wondering if he would ever feel for a woman as strongly as his father felt for Jenay.

  But he didn’t wonder long. He had a meeting to attend. He took off too.

  By the time Charles arrived at the Inn, he had tried to call Jenay five times. Each time, her phone went to Voice Mail. On his last try, he tossed his phone on the passenger seat in frustration. He picked it up again when he pulled in under the portico at the Inn, got out, and casually made his way inside.

  He wore sunglasses, and purposely kept them on to shield the concern in his eyes, as he made his way through the lobby. He forgot to ask Donald where he’d seen them, but assumed it was probably around the lobby area. But he didn’t see Jenay, nor anyone matching the description of the guy. He made his way to the front desk.

  Becky Hamlisch was already blushing as soon as she saw him get out of his car. She was a desk clerk with a monster crush on Charles. Donald often teased her about it, and even Jenay knew about it. But she couldn’t help it. Her boss’s husband was her idea of an ideal man.

  But even though people might have suspected she had a crush on Charles, she did everything in her power to hide her interest, to deny it, and to deflect it. She wasn’t stupid. If Mrs. Sinatra felt she was getting a little too familiar with her man, she’d be out on her rear. Her strategy, instead, was simple. Smile, be nice, and pay attention. She’d done it before in her life, and it worked. She was counting on it working again.

  “Hello, Mr. Sinatra,” Becky said with a big smile. “Welcome to the Inn. How are you doing this fine day?”

  Charles, however, had little patience for gold-diggers, and that was how he absolutely saw that little vixen. “I’m okay,” he said without displaying it. “Is my wife in her office?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well do you know where she is?”

  “No, sir. But I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. I saw Donald, I mean, Mr. Sinatra, take her car to go to a meeting.” Donald was Becky’s supervisor. She’d been warned, repeatedly, about calling him by his first name.

  But what that woman called his son was the last thing on Charles’s mind. Jenay was on his mind, and where in the world she was. If she’d been crying, he wanted to know why. He removed his shades.

  Becky, seeing what appeared to her to be distress in his eyes, decided to give it a gentle nudge. “I can check and see if she has her walkie talkie with her,” she said, although she knew Jenay didn’t have it with her.

  “You do that,” Charles said, and watched as Becky grabbed her walkie talkie and pressed Jenay’s number.

  “Mrs. Sinatra? Mrs. Sinatra?” Nothing. “Mrs. Sinatra, this is the front desk. Do you copy?” Still nothing.

  And Becky decided to go for it. “If you would like, sir,” she said, “we could go up on the floors and do a room-to-room search. I’m sure she’s in one of them.”

  Charles looked angrily at Becky. He was already frustrated enough that Jenay wasn’t where he could get his hands on her, and now this chick was bugging him too? “What the fuck I need you to take me into hotel rooms for?” he asked, a frown on his face. “You do your job,” he added, “and taking me in some room ain’t it.” Then he left the lobby, and headed into the adjacent restaurant.

  When he looked around, only a handful of customers were having their meals. But no sign of Jenay. No sign of some great-looking, tall black dude, as Donald described him, either. And only one restaurant employee was languishing around, a girl named Bev, but she was another chick he tended to steer clear of. He, instead, walked into the kitchen where he knew Jenay’s top chef, and best friend, was working.

  Norm saw him coming as he stirred
his big pot of pasta. His sous chefs were busy, too, but all of them took the time to greet Charles. Although Jenay was technically the boss around the Inn, they all knew Charles was the owner. Jenay was the owner, too, thanks to Charles, but none of the employees, most of whom were there before Jenay was there, saw it that way.

  Norm assumed somebody had ran and told Charles all about Jenay’s visitor today. And if he had to lay bets on whom, his money would be on Donald. He’d never seen a group of men who were more daddy’s boys than those Sinatras.

  “Hello, Norm,” Charles said as he approached.

  “Hello, Charles.” He was the only member of the staff allowed to have liberties with his bosses. “What are you doing here?” Although Norm knew full well.

  “I’m looking for Jenay. You’ve seen her?”

  Norm nodded. “Yes, I did. Earlier.”

  “Where was she?”

  “In the restaurant. We were talking and drinking coffee during my break.”

  “Just the two of you?”

  Norm knew what he was asking. “Initially, yes,” he said. “But you needn’t worry, Charles. She’s not in trouble, or anything like that.”

  “I was told she was crying, and some guy was there.”

  “Black guy?” Norm asked. “Good looking?”

  Charles nodded. “You know him?”

  Norm hesitated. He really did not want to get up in Jenay’s business. But Charles deserved an explanation. “Luis?” he yelled to one of his sous chefs.

  Luis hurried over. “Yes, sir?”

  “Manage these pots until I get back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Norm removed his apron and, with Charles, walked out of a side door that led into the back side of the Inn. He pulled out a cigarette.

  “What is it?” Charles impatiently asked him.

  “The guy’s name is Percy,” Norm said, pulling out a liter. “Percy Diallo. She left with him.”

  Charles frowned. “Left to go where?”

  “That I don’t know,” Norm said as he lit his cigarette. “But I know Percy.”