Almost Forgotten (Contemporary Erotic Romance) (The Broken Men Chronicles Book 2)

by Carey Decevito

  I heard the snap of fingers in front of my face and jumped back. “What the fuck man?”

  He laughed. “Do you always talk like that around kids?”

  “It’s nothing you’ve never heard at your age so what’s it matter?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “What about this girl? Why does your mom have her panties in a twist about your interest in her?” I asked.

  “Dude, don’t talk about my mom’s panties!” He screwed up his face in disgust.

  I grinned, shaking my head. “I’ll ask again. What about this girl?”

  “It’s not so much the girl but what I said after Mom said I couldn’t go to her birthday party on Friday.”

  “And that was?”

  “That if my dad was around, that he would let me go,” he bit his bottom lip, “but I never meant any of it. I was just mad. Everyone’s gonna be there and…” He looked at me with such worry and regret then, bowed his head.

  His father had never been around? Something constricted around my heart for both the boy in front of me and his mother.

  “Have you ever met your father?”

  “No.”

  “Has your mom ever talked about him?”

  “Nope.”

  Before I could lead the conversation further, I heard the screeching of tires and I knew someone was in my driveway. Seconds later, the slamming of a car door followed and Jordan’s gaze filled with panic over the pizza box.

  Danica. “I don’t think I can do anything for you this time, kid.”

  Instead of the doorbell, I heard fists banging on my door and words that weren’t audible thanks to the barrier.

  “Stay here,” I said. “Let me talk her down a bit.”

  “What makes you think you can?” he asked. “I mean, you just said that you can’t do anything for me.”

  “I don’t think she knows that you’re here. If I don’t get her to calm down, this’ll all be over before it starts. Think grounded for a month, forget your current weeks’ worth. From what I saw last week, she’s just like her father,” I said.

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you some time. Right now, let me deal with her.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb, toward the front door.

  Chapter 17

  I opened the door and saw a frantic Danica standing there.

  “Is he here?” she asked, sniffling. “Is Jordan here? I thought he had gone to his room and when I went to check, he was gone. I don’t know what to do. I...”

  Crap! What do I say? If I said yes, then she’d fly off the handle and march his ass back home and give me shit in the process for hiding him out and not bothering to turn his ass around or bring him home. If I said no, then I’d be lying and I don’t lie.

  In a soft tone, I chose to bite the bullet. “Yes.”

  She didn’t react the way I thought she would which had me worried. I expected a slap, a few hits, something painful or maybe yelling. Instead, she collapsed to the concrete step before I had a chance to get to her.

  I bent over, picked her up off the ground and brought her to the living room where I sat her on my lap on the couch, holding her the way I used to when, very much like her and her son, she had had an argument with her father.

  “Shh.” I tried to soothe her. Most of her erratic mumblings were indiscernible through her sobs but I managed to make out bits about Jordan’s awful words and something about her calling him an ungrateful bastard son before she broke down again.

  I turned to see us being watched by Jordan and I waved him over, knowing that it wasn’t my place to make things right.

  “Mom?” I felt out of place but I couldn’t seem to extricate myself from the situation seeing as Danica held onto me with a death grip. “I’m sorry I ran off,” he said. “I didn’t mean what I said. Mom?” She wasn’t responding. “Mommy?” His softened voice seemed to have done the trick.

  Danica pulled away enough for Jordan to kneel in front of her. She cupped his face in her hands and aside from using my lap as a seat, it was as if I didn’t exist.

  “Baby, I’m sorry too,” she said. “I didn’t mean it. I was just mad and hurt.” She pulled him toward her and they hugged, me leaning my body away so I didn’t get nailed by stray arms. She breathed a loud sigh. “Thank God you’re okay.” Her tears had run dry. “I know that this move is hard on you, baby, but...”

  “Mom?” She pulled back so she could see his face. “Can you get off of Jake, it’s kind of weird.”

  She giggled. And just like always, my heart sped up at the sweet sound. Her eyes now apologetic, I nodded. “I’ll give you two a minute,” I said and when she got off of me, I couldn’t get my ass out of the room fast enough.

  I headed for the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Popping the cap, I took a nice long pull from it. The last fifteen minutes had been filled with so much raw emotion that I didn’t know what to think. My mind was reeling. I didn’t get how someone could have been with her and then left. With a son no less! What the hell had happened to her after she left? Whatever it was, it wasn’t all that long after I found myself alone.

  I was saddened by her situation and enraged against the good-for-nothing idiot who had left her to fend for herself. From what I’d seen since her return, Danica was a great mother. And Jordan, he was pretty damn fantastic too. The kid kept me on my toes and he had a rather amazing ability to read people. That father of his had no clue what he was missing out on.

  Looking out into the backyard through my patio door, I didn’t notice Danica’s approach.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I… he told me that you two talked. I appreciate you being there for him.”

  I shrugged my shoulders like it was no big deal. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not.” I turned to face her, brows furrowed. “He should be able to come to me with anything. Instead, when he did, I snapped and he ran.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Why am I telling you any of this?” She turned away from me but didn’t make a move to leave. “After fifteen years, you’d think it would get easier.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that but I figured she was speaking about childrearing. “Don’t worry about it,” I said but I was once again distracted by the kid’s age. Fifteen. Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I continued, “From where I’m standing, you’re doing a great job.”

  She turned to face me again and offered a solemn smile. “I’d like to think that it would be easier if he had a father.” Her face scrunched up in disgust but I also saw resentment and was that guilt? “I’ve already tried that route and failed with Bruce. It’s just me and him. I guess that’s what it’s all cracked up to be, huh?”

  “I guess,” I said but I didn’t agree with her. “Can I ask you something?” She nodded her response. “Who’s the father? He told me that he’d never met him, that he doesn’t know anything about him. I get the sense that...”

  “I-I…” she stuttered, her eyes full of fear.

  She’s hiding something.

  Before she could answer or I could push, Jordan walked into the room. “Mom?”

  A look of relief washed over her face. “Yes?”

  “Can we go home now?”

  “Sure.” She turned toward me and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it’ll have to wait for another time.” She walked up to me, palmed my face with both hands. Lifting onto the tips of her toes, she kissed my cheek, remaining close for a moment before pulling away. Whispering, she said, “Again, thank you.”

  Jordan was smirking at me as if he knew a secret I didn’t. “Any time.” I eyed the kid. “And you, try and stay out of trouble with your mother for more than a week at a time. But if you need me, you know where I am.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “unemployed.”

  “I have a client, that’s not unemployed.”

  “You got fired?” Danica asked.

  “I quit, there’s a di
fference.”

  “So you’re pulling a Jerry McGuire and starting your own practice?” She smiled and I returned it with one of my own. She remembered. It felt like ages ago since we’d talked about that.

  “Show me the money,” I quoted the infamous line from the movie. We both laughed.

  “Dorks.” Danica and I turned to face Jordan, who stood all too pleased with himself.

  “Mind your manners, mister!” she said.

  I laughed and her gaze came back to freeze on mine. Silence ensued.

  “Mom, if you want to stay, I can walk home you know.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming!” I smiled at the two of them. “I better go.” She looked to her son. “We need to have a little talk and then I’m sure someone has homework to do.”

  The guilty look spread over his face. “Busted!” I gave him a soft punch to his shoulder.

  Arms crossed over his chest, he said, “I could bring you up on charges for child abuse, you know.” Laughter danced in his eyes.

  “You and what lawyer?” I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him along toward the front door.

  “I don’t know, how about the one that whooped your ass last week?” he suggested. “Oh, wait, that won’t work. You threw that case, remember?”

  Danica turned to me. “What?”

  “Yeah, Mom, he did. I told you he did, remember?”

  “That’s enough, kid,” I warned.

  “No,” Danica said, “did you?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. It was easier to look at her son than her. “Perhaps.” Jordan stood behind his mother, his arms crossed at his chest, his shoulders bouncing with silent laughter.

  “Come on, Mom.” He opened the door and pushed her outside.

  As Danica walked to the car, I grabbed Jordan’s arm to stop him and whispered, “You shouldn’t have told her.”

  “I like watching you squirm, hot shot.” He grinned. “Catch you later?”

  “Drop in whenever, kid.”

  “Cool.”

  Chapter 18

  I was up until two in the morning, drafting up papers and contracts to include all the clauses that Stan and I had discussed over our lunch.

  Intent on revising my document with a fresh perspective, I woke at six o’clock. Pleased with everything, I rushed around to get ready only to realize I had a single thing to do today: get my contract signed. For the first time in years, I came to a conclusion. I was looking forward to a day’s work.

  Dressed in my usual shirt, suit and tie, and convinced that everything would be according to Stan’s liking, I printed off two copies of the contracts, stowed them in my briefcase, and made my way out the door.

  I walked through Standhope Incorporated’s glass doors and smiled at the receptionist. “I’m here to meet with Stan.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “He is. The name is Landen, Jake Landen.”

  “Please have a seat and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived,” she said.

  Standhope Incorporated was one of the largest construction firms in the area. Founded on donations and government grants alone, they were well-known and respected in the community for building and setting up low-income family housing.

  Two years ago, Stan’s wife, Hope, a former teacher, started an education fund that drew in more philanthropic benefactors and yielded even more money for their linked causes. Suffice to say that Jacksonville’s shady neighborhoods were taking shape, improvements being made and its residents were more than happy to see them happen.

  The education program survived on monies generated by an annual ball which Hope organized and let me assure you, those tickets didn’t come cheap. The leftover funds from the ball, as well as for those that trickled in throughout the year, paid for Standhope’s employee salaries as well as the building, rehabbing and restoring of the buildings they owned.

  The domicile component to the foundation had been established over a decade ago. When Stan discovered he couldn’t run both Standhope and his construction company, he sold half of his business, hired a President for it, and stayed on with the foundation, bringing along some of his most trusted contractors with him.

  “These people need the help more than me having to build some millionaire a mansion or some new office building,” he’d once told me.

  I was further humbled the day I found out that beyond the salaries, his functioning office costs as well as the building his office was in had come from his pocket.

  No wonder the man had issues with my former employer’s stand on ethics.

  “Jake!” Stan’s voice reverberated against the lobby walls.

  I stood up to greet the man who seemed to have an added bounce to his step this morning. “Good to see you, Stan.” I shook his hand.

  The signing went off without a hitch. Pleased with the reduced fees, the various clauses we had discussed as well as to the additional allocations, he put his pen down and shook my hand.

  “In a year’s time, you’ll be able to build that new learning center in that neighborhood you just took on,” I said. Yes, the amount that he had paid my former bosses had been that substantial.

  “I like your way of thinking, Jake, and I’m sure Hope will love you all the more for it.” He smiled. “Listen, if you’re interested, I know of a few organizations that may be able to benefit from your help. I’m not sure if you’re willing to do pro-bono but I know Anna is in dire need of someone.”

  “Pro-bono is something that’s held an appeal to me. Lord knows litigation fees aren’t slight. But I need to get my legs back under me first, Stan.” Something about the way Stan mentioned Anna made me say, “I have to ask, what makes you mention Anna out of everyone else?”

  Stan began to relay Anna’s story.

  Proof was in the pudding, as they say. I felt validated and thus satisfied that I had branched off on my own. Money wasn’t an issue and it appeared that I might be gaining clientele soon enough.

  Parking my car, I got out and stared at the five-thousand square foot monstrosity that stood before me and shook my head. I had no business buying something so large. Hell, I had no family, I was single. Most of the rooms lay empty and if not, they seldom saw a human presence.

  I bought the place for my love of architecture, but also because I was compensating for the lack of things I had while growing up. We weren’t poor, we just tipped the scales from middle to lower class. It’s why I needed a scholarship to go off to college and make it through law school.

  The day I signed that letter of offer with Blake, Davenport, Smith & Michaels, I jumped at getting the bigger and finer things in life. I had made it in this crazy game of life and the first thing I did after buying a car was pay off my parents’ mortgage and put a sizeable down payment on my first home.

  I headed toward my front door, listening to a message from Brent, asking me how my first day of unemployment had gone. I laughed. It seems he hadn’t received the memo about Standhope leaving BDS&M and me bagging their business.

  Brent and I have been friends since college, being part of the same graduating class. It was a surprise when he walked through the firm’s doors, a few months after I was hired.

  Since then, Brent and I made a point to hang out from time to time. Whenever it was, you could tell that his heart wasn’t in it much but to please Beth, his ailing wife, he gave in. She would crack jokes that he was driving her nuts by hovering over her when he wasn’t at work. He didn’t think it funny, all too aware of his limited time with his wife.

  It was a sad story and one I cared not to ever witness first hand. To watch as his vibrant, energetic and beautiful woman sped her way through declining health, as her cancer ate away at her, was heartbreaking. Brent loved her with all of his being.

  I dreaded the day the news came of her imminent death, where friends and family would have to jump in and help him pick up the pieces. Brent and Beth’s situation was a constant reminder of how short life can be.

  Chapter 19


  The rest of the week flew by and my phone rang a few times with potential clients. Stan sure worked fast at getting the word out. Of the handful of potential clients, I had turned most of them away with the exception of Anna.

  Thanks to Stan, I already knew most of her story and upon our first meeting, I had decided that I was going to help her out. The woman had been dealt by the hand of misfortune and it was time for her luck to turn around.

  At first glance, she appeared as if she came from a humble background what with the over-worn pant-suit, the purse with the broken strap and her exhausted expression. That is, until she opened her mouth. From that action, it was clear that she was well-educated, proper, and proud. The haggard appearance was due to being overworked with refusal to fail. It was familiar. I had seen it on my parents’ faces a time or two, the closer I got to graduating and heading off to college, prior to my being granted my scholarship.

  Much like my admiration for Stan, Anna awed me with the passion she demonstrated and emotion her words held as she told me about the small charity for orphaned and homeless children she was trying to revive. She had under a year to turn things around or it would cease to exist.

  I could tell that she held little faith in litigators. I couldn’t blame her. Her former legal counsel had swindled most of the monies she had in the foundation’s account and she was now using her personal funds to make things happen, funds that were dwindling at a rapid pace.

  As I listened to her story, a new plan of action with regards to helping Anna was taking shape. There was more I could do for her than handling the legal aspect of her business. With her approval, I told her that I’d run with my idea and touch base as soon as I had an answer for her. Her drawn face brightened and all evidence of exhaustion and worry dissipated prior to her departure.

  With Anna gone and a warm feeling building inside, I picked up the phone and called Withers International’s local offices. A woman sounding more like a high school student answered.