by Lacey Legend
“Would you like me to walk you inside?” asked Spencer, nodding up to Jenna’s front door.
“Spencer, you’ve done more than enough for me for one weekend. I don’t really think I can ask you to face Liana right now. She has a habit of spoiling your kindest gestures.”
He kissed her tenderly. “You’re worth facing her wrath for.”
“All the same, I’ll let you off tonight.”
“I won’t pretend I’m not grateful,” grinned Spencer.
They kissed again and Jenna skipped out of the car with a load of shopping bags as well as the tiny overnight bag she’d bought.
She opened the main reception door. Sitting on the steps patiently was her ex-boyfriend Leon.
“Hey Jenna, guess who got let out early for good behavior?”
Chapter Eight
Jenna dropped all her shopping bags at the sight of her ex-boyfriend. She wasn’t threatened by Leon, she’d grown up with him and he’d always been good to her, but seeing him on the stairs was a shock given he’d been in jail for well over a year.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said apologetically. “I was looking forward to seeing you.”
She couldn’t even reprimand Leon for stalking her because he lived in the same building as her.
“When’d you get out?” she uttered.
“Saturday.”
She couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I did say the other week when you were visiting, I was looking at getting an early release.”
Her eyes were wide as she tried to take in the boy she’d grown up with sitting in front of her. Except he wasn’t a boy now. Leon was all man. He was big and broad and had the build of a heavyweight boxer.
“I wasn’t expecting it to be that quick.”
“I thought it’d be a surprise for you,” he said softly.
“Well it is that,” she chuckled.
They’d made an agreement when Leon landed in jail, that they’d keep their distance from one another. Leon would let Jenna get on with her life so that she could turn things around and get a degree and help other teens like them from a deprived background. Leon had assured her he’d use his time in prison wisely to educate himself in order that he could leave gang life.
There had never been any discussions of reuniting. Even when she’d been asked to visit him recently, because Spencer had been investigating her background, he’d been adamant he’d stay out of her way after release, so as not to interfere with her progress. Now, here he was, waiting on the steps as if they were both fifteen again.
“Can an old friend ask for a hug?”
It seemed mean saying no, but at the same time, Jenna knew she could be sending out the wrong signal by agreeing to it. His big brown eyes were akin to an excited puppy and she felt her heart melt.
“Course.”
She hugged him lightly and noticed his grip on her was tight, like that of a man being thrown a life ring cushion while drowning at sea. Jenna had released her embrace some time before Leon finally let go of her.
“You look good,” he commented with his big white innocent smile (which was anything but innocent).
She shut her eyes. It was too easy to go back there and it wasn’t fair of Leon to do this to her – not after the weekend she’d just had.
“Thanks.” Jenna opted not to return to the compliment. The situation was awkward and she didn’t know how to extricate herself from it. She began collecting her shopping bags.
“You want a hand with those?”
Again, it seemed churlish to refuse. “Leon, Mom’s in and you know how she feels about you. I can do without the argument tonight. It’s probably best I manage them alone.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said quietly.
She could feel him watching her as she arranged the bags in a way that she’d be able to manage the stairs.
“Elevator’s still broken?”
“Some things never change, Leon.”
“Bad luck for me on floor fifteen.”
Jenna grimaced on his behalf. That was a lot of stairs to trek. “How does your mom manage?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She’d made a rookie error by showing an interest. He’d translate an interest in his mom as an interest in him.
“Elevator around the other end of the building works fine. It’s a longer walk, but preferable to the stairs.”
The conversation was sounding hollow and forced. Jenna wondered if Leon felt the same. He reached out and tugged one of Jenna’s bags.
“That French?”
She noticed he was pointing to the writing on the shopping bag’s logo.
“Yeah. Don’t tell me you were studying another language while you were banged up?”
He laughed and the sound was rich and real. “No. I just knew it wasn’t English. Lucky guess.”
They remained staring at each other. Jenna couldn’t get up the stairs until he moved and Leon didn’t look as if he were in any rush.
“There are French shops round here or something? Because that would be a change.”
“No,” she huffed impatiently.
“Where’d you get it then?”
“Leon, please. I need to get upstairs.”
“Sure, of course. I was looking forward to seeing you. I kept an eye out for you all weekend and it’s only now I’ve found you.”
“I was away, Leon.”
“In France?” he teased.
“Yes.” The bold statement rung around the staircase.
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” said Jenna more quietly.
“Well good on you girl.”
Leon stood up.
What hurt Jenna most was that he sounded as though he meant it. He sounded as though he was pleased she’d been lucky enough to score a weekend in Paris. There was no bitter resentment there. Jenna felt sick to the pit of her stomach.
“I need to go.”
“Jenna--Jen!”
She raced up the stairs and prayed Leon wouldn’t follow her. Keys in various locks, she let herself in, threw her bags on the ground and raced to the toilet where she proceeded to vomit.
“Baby girl, are you okay?” It was her mother’s concerned voice.
“I’m fine,” she shouted.
As she retched until there was nothing left in her stomach, Jenna finally collapsed on the floor. She rested her head on the cool porcelain of the sink. Of all the times for Leon to re-enter her life, why now? Closing her eyes and taking some deep breaths, she gathered her strength. Running the cold water tap she stood to wash her face and brush her teeth. She tried opening the bathroom door quietly but her mother was standing there - arms crossed and waiting for an explanation.
“I told you he’d find her.” Liana’s voice sailed through the apartment.
“Shut up Liana,” chanted Jenna and her mother.
Liana walked over. “You know he’s back then?” she asked kindly, putting a blanket round her sister’s shoulders.
“Yes.”
“He promised to stay away,” muttered Jenna’s mother.
“When did he ever keep a promise?” grumbled Liana stonily.
“How’d you know he was back?” Jenna asked her sister.
“He’s been loitering round the staircase all weekend. I didn’t tell him where you’d been or who you were with. I didn’t even say you’d gone away. I said if you wanted to be found, you would be.”
Ultimately, despite their differences, the two sisters would do anything for one another.
“And you spoke to him?” asked Hannah, her mother.
Jenna looked at her mother. Even before she answered, she could see the disapproval in her mother’s eyes.
“I couldn’t just ignore him.” Was her answer.
“Of course you could. You didn’t have to say a word. Now see the state you’re in.”
“Mom. We’ve known Leon forever. What was Jenna supposed to do?” interjected Liana.
“Tell him t
o mind his own business.”
“It’s not that easy,” argued Jenna. “I think he’s turned himself around.”
“And how would you know that? He hasn’t even been out for forty-eight hours. Already he’s working his silver tongue on you.”
“The fact that he didn’t serve his full sentence speaks volumes.”
Liana rolled her eyes at her sister. Defending Leon wasn’t going to calm their mother down.
“It says he knows how to work the system.”
“Stop being cynical, mom. I changed, why can’t Leon?”
Her mother was furious and Jenna had to share a bed with her.
What a rotten end to the weekend, she thought.
“Keep your head on your shoulders,” warned her mother. “I’m not around to force Leon to keep away from you. He’s a bad influence. That’s why you ended up involved in silly, stupid, dangerous games as a teenager. I blamed myself because I work three jobs but what could I do. Nothing’s changed. I still work three jobs to support us and I can’t take time off to protect you. I only hope you’ve grown up and have the sense to stay away from whatever he cooks up. You’ve got a new life and a future. Focus on that. Focus on this billionaire; he’ll give you more than Leon ever could.”
Jenna was on the verge of having a rip-roaring row with her mother. They hadn’t fought in ages. Not since Leon was sentenced. One ten-minute conversation regarding her ex and they were already circling each other like wild cats ready to pounce.
“Money doesn’t maketh the man, mother.”
Liana could see the two women were reaching boiling point.
“Jenna, come in my bedroom. I want to hear about Paris and I’m desperate to see what’s in all those bags you’ve bought back. There’s nothing we can do about Leon now. Don’t let him ruin Jenna’s weekend mom, not when it was her first time out of the country.”
Hannah relented. She didn’t trust Leon and she never would. She only hoped Jenna had the good sense to remember a leopard never changed its spots.
*
Spencer made an executive decision to allow Jenna twenty-four hours to recover from their rushed weekend in Paris. Jenna still had her studies and was still contracted to Ms. Princely at Supreme Cleaning Services, so had obligations to fulfill. Spencer’s insistence that she be at his beck and call, allowing him to finance their relationship, was not one that instilled a feeling of security or equality in their burgeoning romance. He knew better to even put the suggestion to Jenna.
Having collected his parents, brother and niece from JFK Airport, he arranged for the family to be driven to the luxurious town house on Fifth Avenue that Spencer purchased for his parents some years back. Spencer had the house cleaned, stocked and prepared for the guests. He sat easily on the steps awaiting their arrival.
Greeting his petite mother bodily, and his sister-in-law with a kiss on the cheek, a firm handshake for his father and a brusque hug for his brother, Spencer bolted to the car seat to extract Rosie from the vehicle.
‘Hey Rosie,” he cooed softly. “Do you remember your Uncle Spencer?”
The pretty blonde haired, brown-eyed girl dressed like a fancy china doll, said nothing. She wrung her hands and remained placid as Spencer carried her upstairs. Setting her straight in the cot, he sat cross-legged on the outside as if entranced by his niece. He passed her a soft toy with sensory materials attached for Rosie to look, feel and touch. She made no attempt to take the toy or play with it.
“It’s okay, mate,” said Spencer’s brother, Rupert. “She can go in out of these little trances. It’s been a long trip. She’ll be more active when she’d less tired.”
“Sure. I know I should know that,” he said rubbing his eyes.
“Are you okay, Spencer, love?” asked his mother. “You look a little stressed.”
“I probably am. Feel like I’m juggling a lot at the moment.”
“You know we’ll stay out of your way,” said his father pleasantly. “It’s not like we need to interfere in your life.”
“Don’t be proud, Dad. You’re not interfering in my life. It’s nice to have you here. Most of my friends still reside mainly in England. I only ever see them in New York when they’re passing through. I enjoy the company of friends and family to the acquaintances I’ve made here.”
“Is work bothering you, then?” probed his mother.
“No, no. Seriously don’t worry about it.”
The four standing adults exchanged a look.
Spencer was unable to see it because he was peering into Rosie’s cot.
“It’s a girl,” mouthed Rosie’s mother, Eloise.
There was snickering and Spencer’s head popped up.
“Nothing old boy,” assured Rupert. “Look, why don’t you and I and dad go for a drink? There must be pubs around here.”
“Bars more likely, but I’m sure we can find something suitable,” agreed Spencer. With three females in this house, he suddenly felt very out of his depths.
“Not a dreadful sports bar,” announced Mr. Lawson as they stood outside on the doorstep.
“No, Dad.”
“And not a gentleman’s club . The last thing I need is Eloise breathing down my neck and asking me five hundred questions.”
“Rupert, I’m not sure I like what you’re implying about my character, but I have no wish to spend an extortionate amount on strippers in the middle of the day with my brother and father present. All I want to do is spend time with my niece and ensure that her care and development is still top notch.”
“I know old chap, we all want that,” started Rupert, “but it’s not a crime to think of yourself or outside of Rosie’s Rett Syndrome. Don’t let her or our family be defined by the blasted thing.”
Rupert’s hand on his shoulder calmed Spencer considerably. He flagged a yellow taxi to take them to The Churchill Tavern just off Madison Avenue. The pub was to the liking of all three men. Its decor was exceedingly British. The pub was dimly lit and even darker thanks to the brick walls and an old wooden bar and stools. Pleasing to the men’s thirst and appetite, the premise’s offered local British fare and craft beers.
The men opted for a booth and a pint of stout. One sip of the strong dark brew beer had Spencer wincing.
“Spending too much money on champagne?” laughed his father. “Forgotten your roots?”
“Not at all. I have beer in the fridge at home; this is just a particularly strong brew. It’s a while since I've had something decent from a barrel.”
Spencer listened to his father and brother talk shop. His brother was now a specialist in Rett Syndrome, making the professional change and undertaking the relevant studies and placements shortly after Rosie’s diagnosis. His father remained a top neural surgeon, but as a doting granddad, had a strong interest in Rupert’s niche area of medicine.
“You looked bored, Spence,” remarked Rupert.
“No, just intimidated by all the medical jargon. When I hear you speak, I realize how actively you work toward helping Rosie. I feel I’ve the intention but unable to deliver anything useful.”
“Spence, the charity gala dinner you held the other week brought in loads of money for the research department. You pay for all of Rosie’s care and ensured we have a residence suitable for Rosie when she’s growing up. Eloise and I could’ve afforded that, but we’d have spent a good part of our professional lives working to pay it off. That kind of work would’ve meant not spending precious time with our little girl.
The gifts you’ve given us extend beyond the materialistic. I can’t put a price on what it’s like not have to work long hours to support the extremely difficult living situation we have in catering to Rosie’s syndrome. Your money helps, mate. It helps us to enjoy our little girl while we can. I hope my work helps but there’s no guarantee on that. We see an instant response to your contribution to the family and the quality of Rosie’s life.”
Spencer smiled, but it was watery. He didn’t feel useless, but it didn’t aba
te his frustration about potentially never being able to communicate with his niece.
“Son,” said Mr. Lawson, “Your devotion to the family is admirable and it comes naturally to you. You’re thirty-two now. Do you ever think of settling down? Maybe stop playing the field and looking for someone who’s better suited to you for more than just one night.”
Only drunk in a pub could three British men have a realistic heart-to-heart.
“I need another drink.”
“It wasn’t until they were four pints along that Spencer was able to reveal his conundrum. “I have thought about settling down. No, not settling down so much as dating. Proper dating. The kind of dating with an end view of developing a relationship.” His brown eyes were glassy, his face flushed, his body relaxed and his persona pleasant, thanks to his gentle inebriation.
“And who’s the lucky lady to catch my brother’s eye?”
“I’m not sure she thinks she’s lucky.”
“What woman landing a handsome billionaire born from my genetic pool wouldn’t be a lucky lady?” guffawed Mr. Lawson.
“She’s not a lady for a start.”
His brother and father raised an amused eyebrow.
“She’s not gentry,” carried on Spencer.
“Spencer, we aren’t in the Victorian era,” guffawed his father.
“Yes, I know that, father. I mean she’s from a very different background to ours.”
“So the lady is a tramp,” giggled Rupert.
Spencer’s hand slammed on the table so hard all three glasses spilt.
“NO!”
“Calm down, mate. I was joking.”
“She’s not a tramp. In the right clothes and in the right place she’s a complete lady. It’s only her background doesn’t afford the right clothes or opportunities to enter my playground.”
Silence stretched between the family. Rupert wasn’t trying to flare Spencer’s temper, nor offend his love interest. He was being cryptic about the girl, which meant he clearly had some reservations.
“I’ve always thought a lady wasn’t born with the title, nor could it be bred into her. A lady is defined by how she conducts herself in the company of other’s and how she chooses to spend her time,” mused Mr. Lawson.
