Chapter 1
Sitting in what can only be described as a bar for the elite, with its dark wood panelled walls, white marbled flooring and low lighting. Sat in two high back, brown leather chesterfield chairs, were Winston Hendrix, a slender businessman in his early 60s, smoothed back, jet black hair. Which he is secretly colouring to keep up youthful appearances, because who the hell at that age still has hair colour that dark? He was sitting bolt upright looking down his nose at no one in particular, legs crossed, and one foot tapping away. Seeming aggravated, even though they may have just taken on yet another client. Although that would depend on how his son dealt with the follow up. Hendrix never had much faith in him, even though he worked twice as hard as a lot of the staff and never had an issue with getting people to sign the final contracts. Hendrix still saw Jordan as a huge fuck up and beneath him.
He slowly swirled the block of ice around in his very expensive 40-year-old scotch as he quietly thought to himself. Next to him was his son, Jordan Hendrix. He was his only child and the one who had been given the unfortunate job to one day take over this family business. Gosh did he wish he had at least one sibling, so that his father’s attentions could be directed on them more than his own. Selfish? Hardly when you come to understand why, and then who knows maybe he could at least enjoy some leisure activities. Maybe even better, he could have not worked for the company at all but instead gone out and discovered himself. Let someone else deal with his father. But it wasn’t to be. His father was far from paternal and told his mother that one child was enough.
The room had the small murmur of other businessmen deep in conversation under clouds of grey smoke emitting from their pipes and cigars. The occasional fake laugh rocketed across the room as they took turns trying to impress each other by showing how funny they thought each other’s terrible jokes were. It was the sort of place men liked to come to talk business, to feel important and to show off to their clients. Not that clients were ever impressed, but they played the game as it meant an evening of free fine dining and expensive drinks.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence, regardless of the fact they finished a successful meeting with a potential new client for Hendrix’s business. He was providing state of the art software development and IT support to some of the biggest companies in the country. Hendrix hadn’t said a word to him since Davidson left. Even when he had gotten up and gone to the bar for a drink, Jordan was ignored, left to eventually go up to the bar himself and get his own.
When he returned, he just sat there and sank down into his seat, avoiding all contact with his father. Maybe if I don’t look at him, he will soon forget that I am here and he will get up and leave. Jordan set his eyes on his shoes as a point of reference to look at, watching his feet wriggle under the table from stress. If his eyes stayed locked down here, he wouldn’t accidentally catch his father’s gaze.
Hendrix was a cold, hard man who seemed to be born without a friendly bone in his body. Unless it came to clients … … clients with money. Then all a sudden he was a teddy bear, splashing his cash, and no expense would be spared trying to win them over.
Hendrix only cared about his business and teaching his son the ropes. Which wasn’t a problem – hell, if someone is setting up their own business you want them to be passionate and hard working.
One day he would inherit the family business and continue the legacy of being one of the richest IT development companies, possibly in the world if his dad’s plan worked out. The idea was to become a global empire. Hendrix didn’t want it ever to be sold off to some awful competitor when he was dead. Letting someone else get all the credit for his hard work? Not a chance in hell.
Hendrix didn’t exactly move to look at him, but he at least cocked his head slightly to one side to let Jordan know he was engaging with him. ‘Make sure you follow through with those emails, we can’t afford to lose a client such as him,’ Winston mumbled as he threw back the last of the ice-cold scotch.
‘What?’ Jordan replied, almost startled. He had been in a world of his own the entire meeting and was sure his father had noticed. It had been two hours basically of his father spouting utter crap about how his company was above all others, how they could provide competitive prices – all the usual sales bullshit men like to chuck around.
At no point did he bother to back up any of his father’s claims, and instead he just glanced around the room, frequently landing his eyes on the bar keep. He probably seemed quite rude to Davidson; Jordan did feel a bit guilty now because he seemed like an OK guy. But Jordan had absolutely no interest in this business, sitting behind computers, buttering up stiff old businessmen. It was a shame because he was quite good at it all.
Even though he could be quiet, Jordan was still a friendly bloke, and people seemed to like him. Just that, from a young age Hendrix had instilled it into him that he expected nothing more than for him to follow in his father’s footsteps as a high-flying businessman, despite his protests. This had only led to a lot of resentment for both his father and towards the company.
‘I said make sure you follow up … … are you even listening boy?’ Hendrix, as everyone seemed to call him, bellowed at him. Why he couldn’t just talk to him like a decent human being, instead of like something found at the bottom of his shoe, he’d never know. ‘Davidson is someone I have been working on for months, and you need to see to it that you follow through with this after that meeting before some arsehole swoops in and takes him.’ Apparently, anyone who managed to snag a client off his dad was an arsehole. Well, I guess it takes one to know one.
He obviously forgot that this was business, it was a cutthroat world out there. He just saw clients as property. And if you came in and undercut him, you basically stole from him.
‘Erm, yes, yes I shall get on to it first thing in the morning, I’ve booked an office day to catch up on some other bits so I shall do it then.’ Jordan froze in the chair, he didn’t dare lift his head, already feeling his father’s eyes firmly on him. Catch up was something Hendrix did not compute; everything should have been done yesterday. No excuses!
‘Maybe if you spent less time parading around with that stupid camera of yours and focused more on your work you would be able to get the job done properly and efficiently.’ Jordan rolled his eyes, like he ever had time to take his camera out anymore. Barely had time to take a piss these days.
He could feel the speech coming; it was the same monotonous speech he had heard for as long as he could remember. The one that reminded him that his life wasn’t his own despite being a 25-year-old adult.
Jordan wasn’t an argumentative man, although sometimes he had lost his temper. When that happened, he was soon put in his place each time, mainly for being right about what he was saying. In fact, he was fairly quiet, especially when his father was around. Despite being 6 ft and a broad, rugged but smart looking man.
His father’s presence always made him feel small and mouse-like. It was quite pathetic really, the emotional hold his father had over him. Well, had over everyone really. That’s part of how Arthur Griffin became involved, just worn down over the years by his father, but in the end behaving just the same.
Although from time-to-time Jordan did try and stand up for himself, he was always cautious about how far to go. But tonight was one of those nights where he felt he had a bit more courage.
‘You don’t need to worry, you know I’ve got this, I always do. You always seem to think I’m not capable, but I’ve never once let you down, have I?’ Frustratedly, Jordan peeked over to his father, half expecting him to at least agree with him that he was an exceptional worker, and that he had just been hard on him as he was overtired.
‘Griffin does not want a layabout for a son in law, this match has been in the making for decades, you are not going to fuck this up for me, and Becky does not want a waste of space for a husband,’ he snarled. Nope, he wasn’t getting shown any form of gratitude tonight; instead, the speech carried on for a further 10 minutes before his father finally decided he was going to head off to bed.
Hendrix placed his empty glass on the table, straightened up his suit, and walked off out of the dimly lit bar without so much as a goodnight son. What a prick, but that was Winston Hendrix for you. ‘Yeah, goodnight to you also. Great meeting. Lovely seeing you,’ he whispered into his drink. He wasn’t stupid enough to shout that out loud enough for his father to hear.
After a few more minutes Jordan decided to head to the bar for a refill. He knew he really should be heading off to bed, he could feel the start of a tension headache coming on. But after a long day in his father’s company he knew he wouldn’t sleep, regardless of the headache or the tiredness filling up his body. Jordan was still full of adrenaline – it was the same every time when having to do anything with Hendrix, it was like his body went into fight or flight mode. So, he decided he would have one more, help him relax and wind down.
At the bar he waved the bar tender over. ‘Another scotch on the rocks please, actually make it double.’
‘Yes sir, coming right up,’ the bar tender replied.
The guy must have been mid-thirties and was wearing a crisp white shirt, black trousers and a little bow tie for his uniform. Jordan couldn’t help but follow him with his eyes as he moved up and down the bar. The bar tender wasn’t too bad looking, although he wasn’t sure why he would even be thinking these things to himself. Jordan left the guy a tip, was the least he could do, he had been watching him all night and how he was treated by all these big shots here.
Moving over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Jordan loosened off his tie and top button, brushing back his smooth hair, similar to how his dad did his. That felt so much better; the suits always made him feel very restricted and claustrophobic. Leaning against the side of the window, he peered out of the 15th floor window onto the city lights that glowed as far as the eye could see, beneath the dark evening sky. Taking a swig of the smooth scotch and exhaled a deep sigh, he began to replay the last of the conversation in his head again. It was on loop, he could recite this speech almost word for word, it never changed. Like a subliminal brainwashing him, Hendrix’s voice, just repeatedly, never stopping.
The whole idea of marrying Becky was ridiculous, no offence to her mind you. From a young age it had already been decided by his father that he would marry Becky Griffin, the daughter of Arthur Griffin. This idea his father and Arthur had was to join forces and basically take over the IT world, destroying all companies in their path. When I say their idea, I really mean it was Hendrix’s idea and he pressured Arthur until he was on board. Apparently for that to happen, Becky and himself had to marry to unite the families and ensure there was no competition. The entire thing was fucking ludicrous. Seriously, they behaved like they were the fucking Mafia of London, when they were basically just shitty IT companies ran by power hungry men.
Jordan was pretty sure his dad was insane and often wondered if he could have him committed. These ideas of the marriage, the family unit and all the other bollocks that spewed out of his mouth was just … … … fuck … … just fucking nuts. Not that he would ever listen, he gave the orders and you didn’t argue, and that was that. If you were brave enough to argue then it was likely your face was going to meet his fist.
But alas both he and Becky caved; nothing they could say to either father made a difference. Arthur had never really responded, it was mainly shrugs and, ‘You’ll have to speak with Hendrix,’ ‘Well see it from Hendrix’s’ point of view.’ So, it was decided, decades ago, Becky would marry Jordan and they would be the ‘superstars’ of the IT world.
To make matters worse this whole sham of a marriage had to be kept under wraps from everyone. It was like those TV shows where they’d have a mole and someone would be undercover, spying, or whatever the task was. That was them, leading some undercover lifestyle. Nobody to confide in.
Again, it was all about the company’s image; nobody gave a shit how Becky and Jordan felt. As long as Hendrix and Arthur take over the IT world. It sounds crazier every time, like kings fighting over land for Christ sakes, tell me I’m wrong, I dare you. I guess in a way at least they had each other through this madness and it resulted in them developing the most unique, genuine and closest friendship either of them ever had.
With that his phone vibrated twice. It was always silent in meetings with his father; he didn’t need a lecture about that on top of everything else. Reaching in his pocket for his phone, Jordan noticed two messages, one from his friend Jack and one from his poor future bride Becky.
Jack: Heya how did the meeting with the ole man go? Don’t get too drunk lol.
Jordan: Oh, fucking amazing, we talked about our feelings and hugged.
Jack: Haha-ha-ha yeah over his dead body.
Jordan: It was fine, I left him to do the talking.
Jack: Probably best mate, you know whatever you would have added to the conversation would have only been met with negativity.
Jordan: And don’t I know it.
They only spoke briefly nowadays, maybe once every two or three weeks now. Still, it was nice for him to check in on him. He had told Jack how he was nervous because this was the first time in about ten months he’d had a meeting with his dad. Jack had had the displeasure of meeting Hendrix a few times, so he knew Jordan’s nerves were valid.
Becky: Eugh finally got to my hotel, wish my dad would stop sending me on these ‘business trips’.
Jordan: Ah come on you know you love meeting those creepy old men and batting your eyelids at them so they sign for daddy.
Becky: Oh yeah what women doesn’t want to be launched as the pretty face of the business, luring in rich old men like a siren. Thank God I only have to smile and nod nicely and not touch them.
Jordan: Ew don’t need that thought before bed. I’ll Face-time you after your meeting tomorrow to see how you got on.
Becky: Yeah sure, night.
Jordan: Night.
With that Jordan decided it was time to head off to bed, taking one last sip of his drink and headed off to the suite he was staying in. He always needed to drink after meetings with Hendrix, so he always remembered to plan ahead, book a room where they were being held so he didn’t drink and drive. Walking past the bar to hand his empty glass back he took one last look at the guy serving. How does he run around all night serving drinks and mixing cocktails without even breaking a sweat.
Upon entering his room, Jordan didn’t even bother to turn the lights on. Both shoes were kicked off and flung across the room, almost hitting the side table. Such an organised man, on the table next to his bed were two paracetamol and a bottle of water. It’s like he knew when he checked in earlier that his father would give him a headache. Maybe he was psychic. Hey that could be a career path instead, he chortled. After taking the paracetamol he got out of his shirt and trousers which were now tossed on the floor next to his shoes, tie and jacket. Falling back onto the bed – not even bothering to get into the covers, he was so hot – he just lay there and drifted off to sleep, allowing the paracetamol to kick in.
Thankyou so much for reading the opening scene to Jordan's journey! As you can see, the corporate walls are closing in on him, and the tragedy that shatters his perfect arrangement is just around the corner. Because this book is already fully finished, you don't have to wait to find out what happens when Harrison enters his world. My ebook released 4TH Aug, and the paperback arrives 18TH Aug! You can officially lock in your copy right now.
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