Chapter 7: Hendrix

Hendrix

Your attendance is requested.

We're honoring your commitment to the greater city of Miami Development, Architecture, and Construction Association.

Don't forget to R.S.V.P!

My finger hovered over the delete button.

It'd be so easy. Just check off one little box highlighting them all, and it'd all go the fuck away.

"Leeches," I hissed through my teeth before slamming my laptop closed and staring off into the warm waters of the Atlantic. None of these people were my friends - people I might even consider a colleague.

Most had never been on a job site, much less gotten their hands dirty in their life.

Just your average snob with money to spare and who loved to make themselves feel important. This wasn't for charity or to raise funds for the city.

It was to rub elbows, kiss ass, and show off: three things I didn't give a flying one about. Thousand-dollar plates and an open bar were not my idea of a good time.

As if you remember what that is.

Ignoring my own self-deprecating thoughts, I looked toward the shore a few feet away. The waves crashed with a bit of violence. As if the water felt my mounting ire.

Picking my bottle up from the table, I brought it to my lips and took in a long pull. Savored the hoppy flavor while surveying the shore a few steps from my back deck.

Nothing brought me peace like being home, and the Florida Keys was just that - my getaway from it all.

I'd built this place with my bare hands.

A side project between large jobs to help me decompress. Three years of blood, sweat, and calloused fingers created what would've been our retirement home. Our golden years retreat. Ophelia wanted to enjoy the salt life to its maximum while the grandkids we'd someday have played on the same shore in my line of sight.

But things change. Emotional connections change.

My phone vibrated on the small patio table, bringing me back from my thoughts. Four shakes and it stopped, only to go off again. Jax, the persistent fucker that he was, kept hounding me.

For a week, I managed to avoid him. Had my secretary thwart any attempt at an impromptu visit.

He was dead set on reminding me of the small but ever-tightening noose around my neck.

"Asshole," I muttered before taking another sip from my beer. I knew what he wanted. "I'm not desperate enough yet."

A ping alerted me to an incoming text, and I tapped the screen.

Pick up, fucker. ~Jax

Busy. Stop calling. ~Hendrix

Rubbing a hand down my face, I scratched my chin. My beard was longer than I'd ever worn it before. Something else I needed to take care of.

If you aren't jerking off or plowing into something tight...ANSWER ME! ~Jax

The last one caused me to laugh aloud. Fucking was a necessary release every few months. A quick smile, buy a drink, and then bend them over the nearest available surface.

No caresses or sweet words. Quick and dirty.

Contrary to what Jax believed, I never took a celibacy vow.

And since we both know you aren't...stop being an ass and check out your account. You have several ladies ranging from twenty-one through thirty trying to connect. ~Jax

I'd begun to type in my reply when another came...

Keep ignoring this and I will set you up with my P.A. Lisa. Coke bottle glasses my friend. ~Jax

I'll drive her down to the Keys myself! ~Jax

A shudder rushed through me. That woman had been trying to ride my dick since the day I met her. Didn't care one bit that I was attached at that moment and found her repulsive.

Maybe I was a superficial asshole, but I liked what I liked, and she was not it. Frizzy, over-dyed hair, clothes too tight - short, and most of the time in spandex. Her hideous glasses finished off her look, but it was the nasty attitude attached to her that was my largest turn off.

Grabbing my keys... ~Jax

And I'll shoot you...claim it was self-defense. One look at her, and they will understand I felt threatened. ~Hendrix

Again, my phone rang and this time I answered and pressed the speaker button. "What?"

"Did you look?" Like I said before, he was like a dog with a bone.

"Ask me that again, and I'll hang up." And because I was a masochistic man, I booted my laptop once more and read through the emails I'd been avoiding. Why? No clue, when I knew what each one would say.

One stood out amongst the pile:

WE'D LOVE TO INVEST IN YOU...

The fuck? That title alone screamed scam, but I opened it up anyway and then proceeded to crack the fuck up. People in the real estate business had balls; investors more than anyone.

"You okay there, Parker? Is the world ending?" Ignoring his snide remark, I kept on reading. Jax hated to be ignored. "Hello...did you die? Was the laughter the end of it for you?"

"First off, fuck you." Again, I re-read what was supposed to be a short, vibrant email and laughed. "Came across something funny."

"Share with the class." Impatient ass.

I cleared my throat. "The Lexington Co. wants to invest in me and my newly opened - exclusive - golf course in Cocoplum. Same golf course which is finished, open to the public, and has all the surrounding properties, which I also built, purchased."

"Are you serious? Again, with that shit," he snickered while I shook my head. "They are trying to find a way in and buy you out."

"Noted, but they won't succeed. I'm a developer, not a real estate agent or investor who wants to buy and mass-produce flips. They want to buy? It's going to cost them more than an eye to get an in."

At the very least, the fuckers in that office were good for a laugh.

Deleting the message, I scrolled through a few more that I'd yet to open. They all held the same tone...

You must attend. No choice. Tough shit.

A few minutes later, Jax let out a long and winded sigh. "Listen, man. I'm not trying to be a pain, but trust me for once. You need this. It'll help you get through the next few months at least." I stayed quiet and let him talk. It was more than obvious that if I didn't, I'd get no peace tonight. "...look at it as if it were a summer hire. An intern of sorts...just that she'd be taking care of you and not the phones in the office."

Couldn't hold in the bark of laughter that escaped then. "You mean taking care of my cock."

"Not at all." The seriousness in his tone caught me off guard, and the humor I'd found in this ridiculous conversation waned. "That's not how any of this works, Parker. Have some respect."

"Hey, man," I hissed out, "you called me. You've been riding my ass to talk about a subject I have no interest in. Don't give me shit for what you brought on."

"Then act like the mature thirty-eight-year-old you are and take this seriously." The sound of clinking ice in a glass carried through the line then, and I looked down at my own now lukewarm beer. Nasty. Standing from my chair, I walked into the house from the deck and straight toward the kitchen. Phone placed between my shoulder and ear, I tried to pay attention to what Jax said while opening the fridge. "...those girls just like men with a certain position in life. Men who can afford a nice meal and are career-oriented. Hold a position of power in their communities. They want to be taken care of, security, just like any other girlfriend would - "

"Let me stop you there." From inside, I pulled out another beer and uncapped it. Took a deep pull from the ice-cold bottle. "Most women don't sign up to date older rich men and take their money in exchange for the use of their bodies. That has a name, Jax. Stop trying to sell me a lie."

"They won't sleep with you unless they've initiated the act. Is that prostitution?"