Chapter 3. A dispute
Jackson Johnson
The Hamptons. It became my favorite place from this moment on. I stood in front of a large window on the third floor, the beach in front of me, a blue I loved, and the clear sky. To me, it was a sin not to have it. I thought over and over about the times I was going to use it. Officially, the weekends would be my new sanctuary, my private space where no one could enter, without exception.
"And the view is spectacular from this third floor. Do you want to see the terrace?" Solange, one of the best advisors at my company, spoke from behind me.
"Yes." I followed her as she swayed her hips shamelessly, which made me discreetly roll my eyes. As we stepped outside, I was struck by the outdoor space. It was very spacious and had a pool, something I hadn't seen coming. "A pool," I said, walking beside her to that spot. She crossed her arms, subtly lifting her chest, and smiled.
"I knew you'd love it. With this view? It's perfect. It would be a mistake not to buy it. I have a list of..." she stopped her sentence when she saw my expression. I tilted my head towards her.
"Are you using your sales tactics from my company on me?" She blushed, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Oh, sorry, Jackson." She shook her head slowly, embarrassed. "Sometimes I forget you're the boss."
"Yes, it happens." I murmured under my breath, then cleared my throat and proceeded to inspect every corner. Almost half an hour later, I was signing the purchase of the place.
As we left, she leaned in for a cheek kiss, but I didn't do that, so I extended my hand between us. She raised her eyebrows in surprise and immediately straightened up to shake my hand. A slight movement, and I let go.
"An honor to be one of the agents who sold you a property."
"You're the first." She visibly got excited but masked it with a smile and a nod, then turned and got into her car. My gaze stayed for a moment on the "Johnson Real Estate" logo before it disappeared.
Richard approached and nodded slowly, signaling that the property was good.
"It's simply a fortress." His words were very accurate. I walked down the steps and reached him.
"Good thing you like it; now it's mine." He wasn't surprised by my confirmation.
"Very good purchase, boss."
"We just need to do the usual, security system, cameras, electric fence, infrared..." He opened the back door of the armored car, and I paused. "By the way, we're going to my parents' house, then to the bar with JJ."
"Yes, sir."
Johnson Mansion.
The door opened before me, and the maid smiled.
"Mr. Johnson. Welcome."
"Thank you." I entered and stopped in the foyer, turning to the maid, whose name was Selma. "Is my mother available?" She shook her head.
"She has a visitor in her tea room." I let out a sigh. I knew that when she had a visitor in that room, it was her mother with a war helmet, plotting another plan to set me up on a date with someone's daughter.
"Fine. Don't announce me, I'll go surprise her."
"Yes, sir." She then left, leaving me to plan how to ambush her and escape unscathed from her blind date schemes.
"I'd recommend you run, but right now." My father's deep voice pulled me out of my thoughts. He had his hands in his plaid pants, and from that, I assumed he had been playing golf.
"Father." I approached to shake his hand, then he smiled at me.
"This is a surprise." I narrowed my eyes.
"Surprise?" He nodded.
"You rarely come to visit us," he confessed with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, you always see me at the company, in my penthouse, at charity dinners, at the club, and in your other son's penthouse. You don't give me the chance to come," he laughed, acknowledging I was right.
"Well, well, you've saved yourself," he leaned in and whispered. "But not from your mother."
"She's about to cross the line, Father." He nodded.
"I know, but what if you just agree to a few dates?"
"I'm not interested in settling down right now."
"Nobody said anything about marriage or kids. Just socializing with the daughters of our most important friends in our circle." He patted my arm briefly.
"Will I reach a truce with her?" He smiled and then shook his head. The voice of a woman and then my mother's approached.
"We should have tea next Wednesday, maybe and..." My mother stopped her words when she saw me next to my father in the foyer. The woman beside her was a former senator.
"Jackson, it's been a while since I last saw you," she approached to greet me, and before she had the intention of a cheek kiss, I automatically extended my hand. She accepted with a firm handshake, which I actually found pleasant.
"Mrs. Davis, it's a pleasure to see you again." We released our grip and she smiled excitedly.
"Likewise, but you've become quite the man." I noticed her discreet once-over. "We only see you in photos and on TV, but in person, wow, it's even better." She cleared her throat and smiled. "Abigail would be thrilled to hear about you; she just got back from an expedition in Egypt a couple of days ago."
"Oh, that's great," I replied politely.
"You should take the opportunity to have coffee with her and see that she's a very talented archaeologist. She's very intelligent and passionate about her work."
"Sure, I'll check my schedule," I responded. She was about to speak again when my father stepped in.
"Well, before you go, son, I need you to look over what I mentioned." My father saving me from the situation.
"Yes, of course, let's go. Have a good afternoon." I said goodbye and followed my father to his office.
"Sometimes Isidora shows her Harding side." My mother's maiden name. "Anyway," he pointed to the leather sofa, fetched two glasses of his best whiskey, and poured. He handed me my drink and then took his favorite individual chair, took a sip, and when he finished, he looked at me. "Her daughter has a reputation for being a heartbreaker." I almost choked on my drink, coughed a bit, and then wiped some drops from the edge of my lip. He let out a laugh.
"A heartbreaker?" I repeated his words.
"Yes, I've heard about her daughter, that she fell in love with an Arab, then a millionaire from Morocco, but she didn't give in to any of his demands, so she moved on, and when the love ran out, she left him."
"Wow." I took another sip, then focused on savoring the whiskey. I let out a sigh, but the door opened and my mother appeared, not looking pleased.
"James," she addressed my father. "You should have helped more before saving him with your excuse."
"I don't know what you're talking about, love." My father washed his hands of it.
"Hello, mother." She shot me an irritated look.
"Why do you do this to me, Jackson?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise at her words, looked at my father, and then back at her.
"Do what?" She narrowed her eyes.
"That. Running away." She said, clearly annoyed.
"I said I'd check my schedule, is that bad?"
"That's being cruel, she doesn't know you, you've subtly rejected her."
"Then she doesn't know, and it would be better if you didn't say that it's my subtle way of saying I'm not interested."
"I just want to see my future grandchildren."
"I think you forget you have two sons."
"Jacob will fall for a woman without my help one of these days," she then murmured to my father, "I hope to be in the front row to see that." She then looked back at me. "I mean, Jacob is more predictable, and I know that when he gets tired of playing the field, he'll find that woman, they'll get married, and give me grandchildren." Her expression changed. "But you," she let out a tired sigh. "You're unpredictable. You're secretive. You're a control freak, you'd rather be alone than..." then she stopped her sentence. "Or maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree," she furrowed her brow. "Are you gay?" I arched an eyebrow, my lips stayed at the edge of the glass, then I lowered it and held back many words that wanted to come out.
"Don't you have a healthier, less stressful activity than pestering me with blind dates?"
"Jackson." My father used his warning tone, one I hadn't heard in years, my mother, offended, put her hand to her chest.
"Pestering?" she emphasized the word in question.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it that way."
"You're cruel." She repeated the word that irritated me, I took a long drink until I finished my whiskey, then placed the glass roughly on the table. I stood up.
"Jackson...wait." My father asked me to return to my seat, I adjusted the sleeve of my shirt and looked at my mother.
"If that's the way to get you to stop trying to push anyone on me, then I'm cruel."
"Not just anyone." She replied in a cold tone, not taking her eyes off me.
"I don't care if it's the Queen of England herself. I'm not interested in dating anyone. At any time. On any day. Not an archaeologist. Not a politician. Not the pampered daughter of any rich friend of yours with influence. Please." I said in a very serious and clear tone. "When that moment comes, it will be because that's how it's meant to be. Not how you want it. So, have a good afternoon." I left the office with a knot of annoyance in my stomach, fed up with my mother's obsessive attention to dates. I didn't want anyone in my life romantically or otherwise...
Never.