BIG DADDY SINATRA 2: IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU, Book 2 (15 page)

Denise
was the beneficiary of his makeup, and she was loving the benefit.
 
He pounded her so hard, and made her feel so
sensual, that she found herself, after long minutes of his masterful young
dick, feeling that urge again.
 
More
pounding, more intense feelings and she found herself cumming again.
 
She experienced that sweet sensation of
another orgasm.

And
Brent was still pounding
 
her.
 
He was still thrashing into her pussy and
fucking her ass into submission.
 
This
might not have been a love connection.
 
They didn’t know each other like that.
 
But this was the best fuck connection either one of them had ever had.

By
the time Brent came, Denise was on her third orgasm.
 

By
night’s end, she was already dick-whipped.

After
several doorbell rings, the outside light came on and Stoke Ackerman opened his
front door.

“Charles?”
he asked, obviously surprised.
 
“What are
you doing here?”

Charles
stood there in his jeans and sweatshirt, with a pair of tennis shoes on his
feet, and it was obvious he was angry.
 
He also had Jenay’s uneaten cake in his hand.
 
Without saying a word, he took that cake and
shoved it into Stoke’s face.
 
He shoved
it so hard that Stoke fell backwards, into his foyer, knocking over a flower
stand and flower pot.
 
Charles jumped on
top of him, shoving more cake down his throat, making him gag on that cake he
claimed was worse than poison.
 

His
wife Pat, and a few of the other ladies who were still there, heard the noise
and hurried to see what the fuss was about.

They
 
stopped in their tracks when they saw
middle-aged and out of shape Stoke Ackerman struggling to get Charles Sinatra
off of him, but Charles was too young and too strong.
 
Stoke didn’t stand a chance.

But
Charles forced himself to stop.
 
He
wasn’t above getting in the mud with anybody, but he also had promises to
keep.
 
And a wife and a baby and four
grown sons who still needed him to look out for them.
 
He stood up over the downed man.
 
“Disrespect my wife again,” he warned, “and
cake won’t be the only thing you eat.”
 

Pat
Ackerman and the other women stared at Charles, and Charles looked at
them.
 
They were already convinced he was
a monster from way back, and this little act would only solidify their
beliefs.
 
But he didn’t give a damn.
 
Monster or no monster, they were going to
respect his wife.

“My
wife attended your meeting in good faith,” he said to them.
 
“She was respectful to each and every one of
you, and she deserved respect in return.
 
She tried to participate and do her civic duty, to be a leader in this
community, she tried to make it work.
 
The vast majority of the people in this town get her, and respect her,
and trust her.
 
You so-called town movers
and shakers don’t even give her a chance.”

Charles
let out a harsh exhale.
 
“Not that your
approval of my marriage or my wife means shit to me.
 
It doesn’t.
 
Whether you like her or don’t like her, whether you agree with her or
disagree, I don’t give a fuck.
 
But what
I will not tolerate is for you or your husbands or anybody else to come at my
wife incorrect.
 
Because anybody who
mistreats Jenay Sinatra will have me to answer to.
 
You hear me?
 
You’ll answer to me.
 
And my
response will be a lot of things, but nice won’t be one of them.”
 

Then
he looked at Stoke as he continued to wallow on the ground, afraid to get up
least he be confronted by Big Daddy Sinatra again.
 
“Just ask cake boy here,” Charles said,
looked at the women once again to make certain they heard what he was
saying.
 
And then he left.
 

Jenay
was done with these obnoxious, sanctimonious people, he thought as he walked
out.
 
He had no choice but to deal with
them.
 
For the sake of the poor and the
disenfranchised in this town, he had to fight against their bullshit every day
of the week.
 
But his wife didn’t.
 
Not anymore.
 
He was pulling her out of that fire.
 

She
was done.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The
office door opened, and Mary peered inside.
 
“Your son is here to see you, sir,” she said.

“Which
one?”

“Brent.”

Charles
nodded.
 
“Send him in,” he said.
 
Then he looked at the two people in his
office.
 
Nester Hamilton, his property agent,
was standing in front of his desk, and Will Horton, his property manager, was
standing on the side of his desk.
 
Both
were in an uproar.
 
Both were overstating
the case.
 
It was Monday afternoon,
Charles was still feeling the effects of that craziness Friday night, he wasn’t
trying to get caught up in any more drama.
 
“Reinstate her,” he said to Will.

“But
sir,” Will pleaded, “she can’t keep promising these tenants the moon the way
she does.
 
They can sue us if she keeps
pulling that stunt to get them to rent those properties.”

“But
I’m not promising them anything,” Nester said. “That man was lying to you!
 
Just because he said it’s true, doesn’t make
it true.”

“And
if it’s not in the four corners of that contract,” Charles said to Will, “then
it’s not true.”
 
Brent entered the
office.
 
“If you can show me proof that
that’s what Nest is doing, then we can talk.
 
But I’m not allowing you to fire a good worker on the strength of what
one man said.”

Nester
was almost in tears.
 
She needed her job
like she needed air to breathe.
 
“Thank-you, Mr. Sinatra,” she said.

“Now
both of you get back to work,” Charles ordered, and both of them began leaving.

“Hello,
Brent,” Will said as he headed out.

“Hey,
Brent,” Nester echoed him.

Brent
spoke to both as he made his way toward his father’s desk.

“And
Nest,” Charles said, and Nester, just as she was clearing the exit, turned
toward him.
 
“Sir?” she asked.

“Let
another tenant accuse you of oversell, and I won’t be so forgiving.”

Nester
nodded.
 
“Yes, sir,” she said, and left.

“What
was that about?” Brent asked.

“Nonsense,
what else?
 
Sit down.”

Brent
sat down in front of the desk.
 
“You
wanted to see me?
 
I do have a job, you
know, Dad.
 
I’m not like your other sons
who work for you.”

“Robert’s
the only son who works for me, and he’s hanging on by a slender thread.
 
You and Anthony are doing your own things
unfortunately, because I could really use both of you, and Donald’s . . .”

“Being
Donald,” Brent said.

“Precisely.”

“But
even crazy Donnie wasn’t selling drugs,” Brent pointed out.
 
“What about Bobby and that drug dealing?
 
What was that about?”

“Jenay
seems to think he just wanted to get my attention.”

Brent
nodded.
 
“I can see her point.
 
You’re married now and have a kid.
 
He can’t constantly run to you the way he used
to.
 
And he’s always idolized you.
 
He and Donnie both.”

Charles
looked at his son.
 
“Whereas you and
Anthony never did.”

“We
did,” Brent admitted.
  
“Tony still does,
although he’ll never admit it.”

Charles
stared at his oldest son, the one he respected above all of them.
 
“What about you?” he asked.
 
“How did I lose my glow in your eyes?”

“I
grew up, and got over it.
 
And it was a
very traumatic thing, Dad.
 
To discover
that you actually can’t walk on water was devastating.”

Charles
laughed.
 
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“It
was!
 
I felt cheated.”

“And
because I wasn’t superhuman, you decided to stick it to me by becoming a cop
rather than my right hand man?”

Charles
was smiling, and was pretending that it was a joke, but Brent knew he meant
it.
 
Brent knew how much his decision to
become a cop hurt his father.
 
“I wanted
to be a police officer, not a businessman, Dad.
 
I did it for me.
 
It had nothing
to do with you.”

Charles
wasn’t going to argue with him about it.
 
He was a cop.
 
A sergeant no less.
 
It was water under the bridge now.
 
“I hear you had a date Friday night,” he
said.

Brent
smiled.
 
“You ordered me to your office
because I had a date Friday night?”

“I
ordered you to my office because you had a date with Denise Donahue.
 
You had a date with Jenay’s friend.”

 
“So what?”

“Why
her?
 
Of all the girls in this town who
would give a body limb to be your girl, why Jenay’s friend?”

 
Brent hesitated.
  
That was the million dollar question to him
too.
 
“Why not her?” he asked.
  
“Don’t tell me you think she’s not good
enough for me.”

Charles
gave his son one of his best
get serious
looks.
 
Brent laughed.
 
“If anything,” Charles said, “it’s the other
way around.
 
So that’s not the
issue.
 
Nowhere near it.”

Brent
stared at his father.
 
“What is the
issue?”

“She’s
Jenay’s friend.”

Brent
smiled.
 
“You sound like a broken record,
Dad.”

“Well
here’s another song for you: don’t go breaking her heart.
 
I don’t want Jenay caught up in none of that
kind of drama.”

“How
would she get caught up in it?
 
It’ll be
my problem, and Denise’s problem.”

“And
you’re her stepson, a title she takes very seriously, and Denise is her
friend.
 
Another title she
cherishes.
 
I would prefer you leave the
girl alone altogether, but that’s not my call.
 
But you’d better not break her heart.”

Brent
exhaled.
 
“I don’t plan on breaking
anybody’s heart.
 
We’re just hanging
out.
 
It’s not that serious.”

“For
you and her,” Charles asked, “or just for you?”

“Me
and her,” Brent said.
 
Then a sadness
came into Brent’s eyes.
 
“Especially her,”
he added.

It
didn’t take long for word to get around town about what happened Friday night
at the Ackermans.
 
It also didn’t take
long for Pat Ackerman and Karen Green to show up at the Jericho Inn late Monday
evening.
 
Charles had already ended, by kicking
them off of his property, their beloved country club location.
 
Now he could start pulling his support of so
many of their husbands’ businesses that relied on loans from Charles’s bank, or
contracts with Charles’s boating company, or his car dealership, or even this
Bed and Breakfast, to stay afloat.
 
Although Stoke’s business wasn’t involved with Charles in any way and
was in fact his competitor, the other husbands’ businesses were deeply
involved.
 
They urged members of the club
to go to Jenay and make this right.
 
They
never dreamed a man like Big Daddy Sinatra could be this head-over-heels about
any woman, especially some non-blue blooded outsider like Jenay, but there it
was.
 
His response last night at the
Ackermans, and earlier with the country club ouster, could not have been
clearer.

And
so Pat and Karen, two members of the founding families in Jericho, found
themselves tasked with the responsibility to make nice with a woman they felt
was beneath them.
 
But they had no
choice: the situation had reached a critical mass.
 

Jenay
was seated at the computer station behind the desk, with Denise seated beside
her.
 
Jenay was attempting to show Denise
how to complete final vendor approval forms.
 
Norm was on break from the Hot Spot and was standing in front of the
desk watching his two friends, and talking with Megan, who was the bookkeeper
but was working the front desk while the clerk was on break.

Pat
and Karen ignored him as they walked up to the desk, and immediately turned on
the charm offensive for Jenay.
 
“Hello
Jenay,” Pat said jovially.

“Hi,”
Jenay responded flatly, without looking up.
 
“Every page has to be re-verified,” she said to Denise.
 
“If you don’t do it on each and every page,
you will get an error message.
 
Let me
show you.”

“It’s
Pat and Karen, Jenay,” Pat said, as if their presence alone should have had
Jenay jumping from her seat to greet them.

But
Jenay continued doing what she had been doing before they arrived.
 
“May I help you?” she asked, still schooling
Denise.

Pat
and Karen gave each other a glancing look.
 
Who did she think she was?
 
But
they understood the mission.
 
They
continued to smile.
 
“We need to speak
with you,” she said.
 
“If that’s
possible.”

“It
isn’t,” Jenay responded.
 
“Not right
now.”

Norm
smiled.
 
Exactly what they deserved, he
thought.

“We’re
here to see you,” Pat said, unaccustomed to such a response.
 
“Surely you can grant us a few moments of
your time.”

Jenay
looked at them over the rim of her reading glasses.
 
She could only imagine how they would treat
her if she showed up at one of their businesses and demanded to be seen.
 
They’d kick her out on her rear.
 
“If you care to make an appointment with my
secretary, I will be more than happy to meet with you.
 
Right now is a terrible time.
 
I am busy.”

Denise
looked at her friend.
 
Jenay was never
one to get nasty with people.
 
What was
this about, she wondered.
 

Pat
was wondering it as well.
 
She didn’t
feel she nor Karen deserved such treatment.
 
An angry look crossed her face, but she maintained her composure.
 
“We’re here to apologize,” she said.

Jenay
would prefer if they just left her alone.
  
She remembered how they snickered when Stoke gave his
we’d rather eat poison
speech.
 
It was so high school to Jenay, and so
hurtful.
 
“Okay,” she responded.

Pat
took exception.
 
“Okay?
 
Is that your only comment?
 
Aren’t you going to at least tell us that you
accept our apology?”

“You
have the right to apologize,” Jenay said.
 
“You do not have the right to determine my response to your apology.”

“Amen
to that,” Norm said.

The
women looked at him as if he was a dangerous animal, and then they looked at
Jenay.
 
“You don’t have to be rude,”
Karen said.

But
Jenay was already done with them.
 
“I
want you to try it,” she said to Denise, and turned the keyboard her way.

“Do
the entire re-verify screen?” Denise asked.

“The
entire page, yes,” Jenay said.

Pat
and Karen couldn’t believe her insolence.
 
But it was true.
 
Jenay didn’t
bother to look at them again.
 
When they
got tired of just standing there, they left.

“That’s
right,” Norm said as they were leaving, “take your arrogant asses right back
where they came from!”

Megan
laughed.
 
Even Jenay inwardly
smiled.
 
“You don’t have to be rude,” she
said, echoing what Karen had said to her.

“I’m
not thinking about them,” Norm responded.
 
“People like them treat me like a leper in this town.
 
They call me names.
 
They give me dirty looks.
 
And they want everybody to believe that
they’re the ones with dignity and class.
 
Give me a break!
 
They can kiss my
low class, undignified ---”