A Christmas to Remember

11: Jack

JACK (8:15 AM): So what classes are you taking?

BABE (8:18 AM): You mean what classes I have taken, or which I’m shopping for, for the spring semester?

JACK (8:19 AM): The ones you’re shopping for

BABE (8:20 AM): I’m thinking about some psychology - one of my former professors recommended it - if I wanted to go into family law, then it’s a good background to have. I’m also thinking about taking a lit class, mostly because I love books. Then the usual extra math, civil law, community classes too.

JACK (8:22 AM): So, you’re telling me that you’re crazy smart too?

I couldn’t help but grin at my phone. Yeah, I had been texting her mostly nonstop since our meeting on Wednesday, but I told myself it was to get to know her, to learn about her likes and dislikes, just in case something like that came up. But it had actually gotten me quite a way. I knew much more about her now, and that made me feel even more comfortable about this arrangement. It was like Em just knew everything I needed from her and gave it willingly. Like she could sense my unease, and then just sacrificed even more of herself to just make me comfortable.

Emmeline Julie Slater had so many layers, she was so much more than a pretty woman to have on my arm. She was funny, first of all, she knew how to crack a joke and she had the most amazing laugh. When she had laughed so freely on her doorstep I simply couldn’t help myself. Sure, she was laughing at me and not so much with me, but hey, a man’s gotta take what he can get, right?

It had almost been devastating to me, just how purely she seemed to laugh. I had thought her giggle could send me to heaven alone, but when she laughed? Jesus, I was already there. Normally, women would laugh around me, but most of the time it would be forced, like she did it, because that would make me happy, like she did it to earn points. Em didn’t laugh to get into my good graces, she laughed when she thought something was funny, and then she laughed with everything that she was.

Realizing she was probably occupied by now, and wouldn’t answer any of my texts for the next hour, I put away my phone, and tried to focus on what should be more important, my work.

Sarah had been ready with my coffee when I clocked in at seven thirty, talking me through the countless meetings I had that day, and then handed me a giant stack of papers to go through.

I had been working on a rather big project in New Jersey. An entire block of apartment buildings was almost falling apart, and I wanted to acquire that particular block, build new and improved housing and then reinstate the residents already living there. My father didn’t share that particular vision with me. He would rather we tear the buildings down and build expensive townhouses instead, selling them at a much higher price for the upper middle class of society. However, I couldn’t make myself agree with that. If we kept doing what my father wanted to do, we would rid the entirety of New York and nearby areas of the lower middle class and further down, only leaving the wealthy to live in the city. The hole in his logic was that he still wanted lots of stores, and all the remedies there already were there, just not wanting to look at the poor people living among them. He wanted to kick them out and then make them commute hours to get to work, so that my father could have his newspaper and fresh bread in the morning.

I would rather take Hudson Corporation on another road. Starting to rebuild New York to its former glory, where the normal New Yorker could afford to live in something that wasn’t a complete dump. However, that would take some investing. It would demand us to invest in the buildings without seeing a profit for the first few years. However, we would help actually clean up the city and not just make it worse and worse.

That was also one of my goals in local politics. I wanted money distributed more fairly among the people, letting all of us take pleasure in the luxuries of simple life at least. Making sure everyone could afford the basic necessities, like food, clothing, schooling, childcare, and healthcare. It wasn’t a popular thought with my colleagues, none of them wanting to pay higher taxes to help the ones in need.

If we looked towards the European countries, we could see how they paid more in taxes. Yes, but also most of those countries had free schooling, had a much better health system where people didn’t flee from an ambulance because they couldn’t afford to be taken to the hospital. We saw a decrease in crime in those countries too, and I wanted us to be similar to that. However, the USA wasn’t ready for that kind of thinking.

“Incoming,” I suddenly heard over the intercom that was connected between Sarah’s and my phone. “Father landing in three.”

Yes, that meant exactly what she said. My father was not a pleasant man to be working for, which was why I was shocked to learn that this was one of the best workplaces in all of New York. Then I talked to HR and found out that my father pays his employees to be able to be a d**k to them. Everyone was willing to take extra crap as long as they got the salary to match that.

The door to my office flung open, showing my father in all of his powerful glory, standing in one of his expensive tailored suits, with his eagle eyes narrowed as he scrutinized my appearance.

“You look different,” he answered, before he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Immediately, he went over to stand by the windows that showcased the New York skyline, and put enough distance between us and the real world so that we couldn’t hear the traffic below us.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I asked, as I rummaged through my documents, trying to work out why he was here at all. Normally, I wouldn’t see my father unless there was a board meeting, and Sarah hadn’t informed me of that.

Michael John Hudson might still be the CEO of Hudson Corporate, but he was that only in title and tyranny only. It had been a long while since he had actually had a full day's worth of work, showing that he had some kind of trust in me and the way I wanted to run this company. However, he would still hold the last word, making sure every decision was run through him before it was approved. The day to day of the company was fully run by me, making me put in insane hours, without reaping the benefit of it - what we didn’t do for the family.

“You tell me, son,” he answered, turning around to look at me yet again. You would think my father was satisfied with me, being almost his carbon copy, inheriting both his hair color and the color of our amber eyes. With age, I only looked more and more like him, hating the fact that my temples were slowly graying too.

“That is an impossible request, father, I don’t know how I look any different from the last time you saw me,” I answered, pushing back from my desk, crossing my legs and relaxing in my chair. The one thing that I had taken with me from my father, was, always look a little bored in meetings that way, you never let the other person have the upper hand.

Then he pointed towards my face, taking a step closer to me. “That, right there, that’s what’s new. And don’t try to bullshit me, Jackson, everyone has noticed it.”

I couldn’t help but heave an exasperated sigh from my chest, mentally stopping my eyes from rolling. “What is new, father? Just put me out of my misery and tell me.”

“You’re smiling,” he finally revealed.

I had a bodily reaction to that statement. My body jerked into action, raising a hand to touch my lips, and sure enough, I had a small smile on my lips. How long had that been there for? Had I been smiling all morning? What about yesterday? When did that start?

Of course, it was noticed, I should have noticed it myself. It wasn’t typical of me to just go around and smile, especially not at work. Sure, I was always polite, but there was a difference between a forced smile and just smiling for no apparent reason.

“Why?” Michael asked, still assessing me as if my body had been taken over by aliens, as if I wasn’t really his son anymore. Of course, I understood his reaction, I would have been freaked too, since I hadn’t really given that many smiles willingly unless to my sisters and their kids, and certainly not in proximity to my father.

Why would I be smiling?

Suddenly, my phone dinged, lightening up with a text message, and I knew why I was smiling. Her. Emmeline was the reason I was smiling. Sure, I wasn’t in love with her or anything like that, but I was really starting to warm up to the idea of us becoming friends. Like I said, she was funny, she was caring, and she actually listened to my opinion.

I looked back up at my father, who had now taken to a powerpose, with slightly parted legs and his arms crossed across his chest. Showing me he was still the boss of this establishment, that I was still answering to him, and now this was the question he wanted an answer to.

Should I just tell him? He would find out later, when the photos of the benefit leaked into the press. Would it be so bad to just come out and say it? It would definitely be more satisfying blindsiding him with the news, letting him find out through the press, but if I did that, I couldn’t control the story of how he found out. Like this, I could control it.

“I’m in love,” I answered, trying to sound calm and collected. Wouldn’t that be what we told people? That we were in love with each other? I wouldn’t bring her to Christmas if we weren’t serious.

A puff of air left my father’s lips. “Good one, son. Now, tell me the truth.”

I stood from my chair, buttoning the suit jacket I was wearing. “It’s the truth, father. I met a wonderful young woman. I’m in love with her, and I’ll bring her home for Christmas.”

For the first time in my life, I saw my father speechless. Michael always had something to say, something to add to a conversation, always had to have the last word. But right here, he was speechless.

“Her name is Emmeline, and I’ll be bringing her to the benefit tonight. We have been seeing each other for a while, but wanting to take it slow, we haven’t been out in public yet,” I explained, hoping he wouldn’t ask too many questions I couldn’t answer. We should come up with a story of how we met, of how long we’d been seeing each other.

“Emmeline?” he asked, still not quite following the conversation. He shook his head, his brows furrowing and then the feared CEO was back in place. “And what does Emmeline do?”

“She’s a pre-law student at Columbia,” I answered, because that was the truth. I shouldn’t be embarrassed by Em, or the fact that she was that much younger than me. You couldn’t feel that when we talked, sure she might look young, but what man in high society in New York didn’t have a younger partner?

Hell, my father was seventeen years older than my mother.

“Columbia?” he asked, clearly impressed by that. “And when will we meet her?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I answered. “I don’t want mother to scare her off with her talk about grandchildren.”

Michael nodded, as if he agreed with that. “I’ll rein in your mother,” he said, then walking towards the door to my office. “Is this serious, Jackson?”

“Like I said, I love her,” I answered.

“Then I want to meet her and see for myself,” he countered, and with that he was out the door.

Exhaling, I put both of my hands on my hips, looking down at my shoes, realizing I had just survived telling my father I had a steady girlfriend for the first time in over a decade.