Brent Sinatra: All of Me

by Mallory Monroe

  “Veto power over you?” Brent asked with a smile, knowing his father wasn’t going to dignify that question with an answer. And he didn’t.

  “I heard Makayla’s going to work in the D.A.’s office,” Charles said.

  Brent smiled. “You’re hearing a lot for a man who usually hears nothing.”

  “They were talking about Makayla and she belongs to you. Since you belong to me, I listened. I heard those career attorneys in that office are none too happy with an outsider getting that promotion. They thought it was theirs by right. Just warn your lady love. It might not be all puppies and flowers when she gets here.”

  Brent already expected as much. “She’ll handle it,” he said.

  “How did she manage to wrangle that job anyway?” Charles asked.

  “Ira remembered her when she was here four years ago as that special prosecutor on granddad’s case.”

  “Please do not remind me of that hellishness,” Charles said. “I still hate that she exonerated that asshole. But he got his. Justice was served in the end.”

  “Street justice,” Brent said, “which is no justice at all.”

  That was what Charles loved most about his oldest son: his integrity. But he couldn’t disagree with him more. “In my old man’s case,” Charles said, “justice was served. But back to my business proposition. I really want you to consider working for me, son. Especially now that Makayla’s coming to town. You aren’t a free bird any longer.”

  Brent smiled. “I still can’t picture you running a nightclub. You’ll probably turn it into a country club.”

  Charles frowned. “Like hell I will! If it ain’t broke, I’m not fixing it. I mean, I’ll swank it up a bit.”

  “Swank it up, Dad?”

  “I’ll give it some class and sophistication. Something the kids will enjoy of course, but something that people our age wouldn’t mind frequenting either.”

  Brent looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “People our age?” he asked. “News flash: contrary to how youthful you look, and you do look young I’ll give you that, and we are only seventeen years apart, but you’re still my father, not my brother. I have the birth certificate to prove it.”

  Charles laughed, which was an effort for a stern man like him. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I won’t muck it up. I want it to remain the go-to place in town for the young people. And it will remain that way. Especially if somebody hip like you agrees to runs it.”

  “Hip?” Brent gave a one-syllable laugh. “You think these people in this town think a person like me, their chief of police, is hip? I’m going to tell you like Ma tells you: get a life because you don’t know mine!”

  “I know enough,” Charles shot back. “I have eyes and ears. I know what’s going on. And I know for a fact that these silly girls around here think you’re hot stuff. They’ll show up at the club every night just to see you.”

  Brent was often amazed at how highly his father thought of him. He could do no wrong in his old man’s eyes. “What about Bobby?” he asked. “Running a nightclub seems to be more in his lane.”

  “Robert is hanging by a slender thread managing my rental properties as it is. He’ll out-party the partiers if I put him in charge of a club.”

  “Now that’s the truth,” Brent said. And then he nodded. “Okay,” he said.

  Charles thought he had heard wrong. “Okay? What does that mean?”

  “I’m going to think about your offer.”

  Charles was stunned. “Even if Porter wins the election?”

  “Even if Mayor Keith wins, yes.”

  Charles was suspicious. “Now that’s a hell of a turnaround. Why?”

  Brent could never put anything pass his father. Besides, he was going to tell him eventually anyway. “Makayla’s moving to Jericho.”

  That was no news to Charles. “I heard.”

  Brent exhaled. It was time to let the cat out of the bag. He planned to wait until she actually arrived, but he decided he wanted his father to hear it from him before anybody else. He looked at Charles. “I asked her to marry me, Dad,” he said.

  Charles stared at him. “Marriage? You asked her to marry you?”

  “Yes.”

  Charles continued to stare at his son.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? Men ask women to marry them every day of the week.”

  Charles smiled a smile of relief. “I thought it wasn’t going to happen. I thought you and that girl were destined to be one of those couples who stayed together for years and years, eight, nine, twenty years, and then went their separate ways. But you’re going to marry her. She accepted?”

  “Of course she accepted! Why wouldn’t she?”

  “Because I thought she was a career woman who cared about her career more than anything else, that’s why! I’m pleasantly surprised.”

  “She never put her career ahead of our relationship,” Brent felt a need to explain. “But her career was important to her. Just as mine is important to me.”

  “I’ll admit she’s been showing some signs lately. When she moved back to Maine and took that pay cut, that was encouraging. And when you told me she was moving to Jericho, even more encouragement. But Jenay came to be with me right away. It didn’t take her four years. And she had a job offer too.”

  But Brent was not going to let even his father get away with putting that false label on Makayla. “Jenay had a job offer as an assistant manager at a Motel 6, or whatever motel it was,” he said. “And I’m not knocking assistant motel managers. But comparing that to turning down a chance to work as a supervising attorney in the Justice Department isn’t fair, and you know it. Mal works hard for everything she has. She had just met me when she was asked to move to Washington. She had to take the career move she took.”

  “Okay, I’ll give her that,” Charles said. “She had to take that career move. But did she have to take it for so long? Four years is a long-ass time, son.”

  “We weren’t ready to get married. That’s the bottom line.”

  “Then say that,” Charles said. And then he smiled, and squeezed his son’s considerable bicep. “But I’m happy for you, Brent. She’s a good woman. She’s smart. She’s certainly gorgeous. You could do worse.”

  Brent smiled. Only his father would consider a comment like that a compliment.

  “So when is she coming to town?” Charles asked.

  “In a couple weeks. She’s given her notice.”

  “She’s going to shack up with you in the meantime?”

  “Why not? We’ll be married soon.”

  “People in this town love to talk. You may not want them talking about her that way.”

  Brent looked at his father. “Since when did you start caring about people talking?”

  “I don’t care. Do you?”

  “Hell no,” Brent said in what Charles saw as a flash of that inward rage he carried. Even as a kid, it would come from out of nowhere. Brent would be fine, going along with your nonsense, and then he would strike. And mighty would be his strike.

  “So that’s why you’re considering my offer,” Charles said. “For your lady’s sake?”

  Brent nodded. “Having a dangerous job may not be the wisest move I can make.”

  Charles nodded too. “Now you’re talking like a man with family responsibilities. And you’re right.” Charles smiled. “I knew I would eventually learn to love Makayla. She’s a tough gal, Brenton. Tough as nails. But if anybody can tame her, it’s you.”

  “Tame her? She doesn’t need taming.”

  Charles snorted. “That’s what you think! Every woman needs taming.”

  Even as he said that, Jenay Sinatra, Brent’s stepmother and Charles’ second wife, drove up in the Mercedes-Benz Charles had purchased for her. Brent smiled. “Including Ma?” he asked.

  But Charles didn’t skip a beat. “Especially Ma,” he said, as he watched his gorgeous African-American wife step out in her gorgeous sunset-wine pantsuit.

&nb
sp; “Hey guys,” Jenay said as she made her way up the steps.

  “The queen is here,” Brent said with a smile, and rose to greet her. They were close in age, and in their relationship. “Hey, Ma.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your cell phone?”

  “I was running,” Brent responded as he moved to hug his youthful stepmother.

  “Not too close,” Charles warned his wife. “He’s sweating like a pig.”

  Jenay and Brent smiled. “That man treats you like a baby,” Brent said, shaking his head. “He acts as if he runs your entire life.”

  “When in truth,” Jenay said, hugging her oldest stepson, “I’m the one who runs his.”

  Even Charles had to smile at that. When Jenay stopped hugging Brent, she walked over to her husband. “What are you doing here?”

  He pulled her down onto his lap. “Having a heart-to-heart with my stubborn son.”

  “About running the Roulette?” Jenay asked, as she sat on his lap. She looked at Brent. “I take it he told you that he now owns the Roulette.”

  “He told me.”

  “As if he doesn’t already own the whole town. Now he owns a nightclub on top of everything else.”

  “That’s what I said,” Brent said. “It’s crazy. And even crazier? He wants me to run that club.”

  “I told him who would be perfect for the job,” Jenay said.

  “Who?” Brent wanted to know.

  “Carly.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Brent agreed. Carly Sinatra was his adopted sister. “She would be perfect! And besides, she’s Pop’s favorite. She’d be perfect.”

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Charles said. “I don’t want to saddle her with all of that responsibility. She’s young and free and in California trying to make a life for herself. We’re going to keep it that way.”

  Jenay and Brent glanced at each other with knowing looks. Charles was heartbroken when Carly decided to move West after graduation. He had a special bond with Carly.

  “Anyway, I can’t stay,” Jenay said. “I’m here because I need you to supply me with some cops, Brent.”

  “For what?”

  “A Biker’s convention next week. They just reserved the Inn for their weekend stay. We’re going to need the extra security.”

  “My officers will be out in force,” Brent assured her. “Don’t worry.”

  “Can you assign a few to specifically cover the Inn, though? I don’t want any drunks destroying my hotel.”

  Brent laughed. “Don’t worry, Ma. I’ve got you covered.”

  Jenay felt better. “Thanks. We’re thrilled that they chose Jericho Inn for their convention, although they could have given us more notice. But I want to make sure I cover my bases.”

  “Understood,” Brent said.

  And then she moved to stand up, but Charles held her back down. She suddenly realized he had a boner. And she suddenly loved the feel of him pressed into her that way.

  She looked back at Charles. He looked at her. “Guess who’s getting married?” he asked her.

  Jenay was at first confused by the question, and then she couldn’t believe it. She looked at Brent, a smile already on her face. “Is it true? Our child is getting married?”

  The idea of Jenay, who wasn’t even a dozen years older than he was, calling him her child, made Brent smile. “Yes, Ma,” he said. “Looks like I’m getting married.”

  Jenay jumped from her husband and gave her stepson a big, bear hug. “Oh, Brent! I’m so happy for you and Mal! When’s the big day? Is it going to be a big wedding? Surely the reception will be at the house?”

  “My goodness, Jenay,” Charles said, “you’re acting as if you’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life.”

  In a way, she had. Ever since she was twenty years old and married to Carly and Ashley’s father, before she met Charles and long before she and Charles adopted them. “I’m just happy for Brent.”

  “Makayla will be moving to Jericho in a couple weeks,” Brent said. “You guys can set a date and plan the wedding then.”

  Jenay’s smile could not have been any grander. “I can’t wait,” she said. “This is going to be so wonderful!”

  “And what’s more,” Charles said, “Brent is seriously considering coming to work for me.”

  But Jenay looked hard at Brent. “Make sure it’s what you want,” she said. “Don’t do it if that’s not what you want to do.”

  Brent nodded. He appreciated how Jenay understood what being a cop meant to him. “I’ll be sure,” he said.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll call Mal later.” She hugged Brent again and kissed Charles on the lips, a kiss that Charles wouldn’t release as a peck. He looked down the length of her gorgeous body as she began to head down the steps. It was too much. He was getting a serious erection. He stood up, hurried to her, and took her by the hand. “I need to discuss something with you,” he said, and began moving her toward Brent’s front door. “Give us a minute, Brent,” he said.

  Brent smiled. “Sure thing,” he responded, as they entered his house. He and his siblings often joked about their father and how he always had a noticeable hard-on whenever Jenay came around. It was like clockwork. Brent never met a man more virile than his father. Unfortunately he, and all of the Sinatra boys, took after him.

  Inside, Charles knew his time was limited. He took his wife into the first bedroom they came to, one of Brent’s guestrooms. He closed the door and turned her until her back was against the door. They were already kissing, and he had his hand down her pants and was fingering her, as she unbuckled and unzipped his pants, and he unbuttoned and unzipped hers. She kicked off one of her heels, and he slid down her pants and panties, sliding one pant leg off of her foot, to give him the access he needed. And then he slid his already fully aroused penis inside of her.

  And they made love.

  “You run me alright,” Charles said as he fucked her. “You run me crazy the way you do me. Oh, Jenay.”

  They were both so into it that they didn’t realize it would be nearly twenty minutes later, after several hundred strokes and more than a dozen on-the-verge of near-cums, before they came.

  Charles leaned against her and strained his every vein as he poured into her, and she held on and squirmed with delight as he pulsated and pushed even deeper into her. Until the sensations rolled around like sweet jelly in their bellies, and finally subsided. They held onto each other, breathing heavily and feeling so satisfied that they felt giddy.

  Until Jenay saw the clock on the wall and realized how long they had been at it. “It can’t be that late!” She pushed Charles away from her, and began putting back on her clothes.

  Before she did, Charles took an expensive handkerchief out of his suit pocket and wiped her soaked vagina before she pulled her panties up, and then he wiped his penis. “You’re the boss,” he said as he wiped. “Stop panicking.”

  “I’m not panicking,” Jenay said as she dressed. “I don’t like being late. It sets a terrible example.”

  And within minutes they both were dressed, Charles’ expensive handkerchief was in the bottom of the garbage can, and they were heading back outside.

  Brent was still sitting on the porch when they came back out.

  “See you, luv,” Jenay said to him as she hurried down the steps. “I can’t wait to congratulate Makayla! But I’m late now.”

  “Don’t drive recklessly just because you’re late,” Charles yelled after her, worried about her. “It’s not that serious.”

  “I’ll drive safely,” Jenay assured him. “I always do.”

  But before she could make it to her car, Eddie Rivers was driving up and was jumping out of his pick-up truck.

  “Hey, Eddie, how are you?”

  “Not good, Mrs. Sinatra.”

  “What’s wrong now?” Brent asked him. Was the police union trying to give them fits about the McCurdy/Saunders arrest?

  “We’ve got trouble, boss,” Eddie said. “Big trouble.�
��

  Brent stood up and moved to the end of his porch, his water bottle still in hand, his clothes only marginally dry. “What is it?”

  “There’s a gunman at Grantham. He’s holding some of the children hostage.”

  Charles and Jenay took off faster than Brent could. They jumped into Charles’ Jaguar, since Jenay knew how fast her husband could drive, while Brent jumped into Eddie’s truck and they all raced toward Grantham Middle School. Not just because there was a shooting there, which was reason enough. But because Charles and Jenay’s youngest child, Brent’s youngest sister, attended that school.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The double doors at the middle school flew open, as another group of kids came running out, with teachers and policemen leading them out.

  “He’s got a gun!” they cried to anyone who would listen. “He’s got a gun!”

  Eddie’s truck and Charles’s Jaguar swerved onto the campus and stopped at the main doors. Every available police car appeared to be at the scene, and half of the school had been cordoned off. Brent and Eddie hurried in, and Charles and Jenay hurried in behind them.

  When they entered the hall, there was chaos everywhere as students as well as staff were running down the stairs toward the front entrance, while others were already down and running out.

  “Where’s Bonita?” Charles was asking as they ran. They had tried and tried her cell phone, but it kept going straight to Voice Mail. “Where’s my daughter?!”

  But nobody responded. They were too busy running for their own lives to comment on anybody else’s. Until they were met by Tangley, a sergeant with the police department. They ran in his direction.

  “Where’s our daughter?” Charles asked. “How can we find our daughter?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Tangley said.

  Charles and Jenay’s heart began hammering. “Why are you sorry?” Charles asked. “What are you trying to say? Where’s my little girl?”

  “What is it, Tang?” Brent asked him, anxious too.

  “It’s one gunman, sir,” Tangley said, “and he’s in the cafeteria. We just cleared the school---”

  “What about my daughter?” Charles screamed. “Don’t tell me about some fucking school. Tell me about my daughter!”