AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He didn’t have to wait long for her to answer his call and when her face popped up on his screen, he felt instantly grounded. Stella had that effect on him. With her big red-rimmed plastic spectacles, multi-coloured headband and bright red lipstick, she looked like a budding artist rather than a social worker who’d seen the worst of life on Melbourne’s streets for the last three decades.
‘Hey, Hudson, what’s happening?’
‘Not much,’ he said, a blatant lie considering plenty had happened since he’d lobbed into town earlier in the week. ‘Just wanted to check in on the progress with the accommodation at Ascot Vale, Clifton Hill and Fitzroy.’
Her nose crinkled. ‘The project managers at each site don’t have good news. There’s mould in the bathrooms at Ascot Vale, so that’s blown out the building budget. Clifton Hill has a rat infestation, and there’s a suspicion of asbestos at the Fitzroy site.’
‘Hell.’
Stella didn’t have to spell it out. They needed more funding, pronto, and that meant courting new investors with deep pockets willing to donate. So what was he doing, allowing Karly to stall for time?
‘Without an influx of money soon, renovations will stall and put us back a few months from our proposed opening dates,’ Stella said, disappointment in her eyes. ‘I know you’re doing the best you can, but any chance we can get a cash injection fast?’
‘I’m working on it,’ he said, wishing he could take back his acceptance of Karly’s weekend extension and get the Acacia Haven Agency deal done tomorrow as planned. ‘I should be back in town on Monday and I’ll meet with our investors on Tuesday to get the ball rolling before reaching out to new ones.’
‘Anything you can do to expedite the funding would be great. What are you still doing in the country? I thought your business there would be in and out.’
‘Something came up.’
His libido, which had derailed his focus and resulted in this current dilemma. Should he renege on Karly’s extension and get Jem to sign on the dotted line tomorrow? Or in the grand scheme of things, would two more days change much?
‘Hope it gets sorted ASAP, because we need you back here.’ Stella glanced over her shoulder and spoke softly to someone off-camera before looking back at him. ‘Sorry, Hudson, one of the kids has been arrested for shoplifting and I need to go.’
‘No worries.’
He’d been on the verge of stealing once. It had been his third week of living in his mum’s car and he’d been craving his favourite ice-cream, one of those fancy cookies’n’cream ones covered in rich milk chocolate. It had been a luxury they couldn’t afford and when his mum had sent him to the small milk bar nearby to buy a sausage roll they could share for their dinner, he’d lingered over the freezer. Slid the glass top open. Picked up one of the ice-creams. Glanced at the young guy behind the counter, who had his back turned. It would’ve been so easy to slide that ice-cream into his pocket, but he’d stopped at the last minute, guilt making his hand shake as he dropped it back in the freezer and slammed the glass top shut a tad hard.
So he knew how desperation drove kids to steal. Many didn’t want to but they felt like they had no other choice.
‘Chat to you soon,’ Stella said before disconnecting the call, leaving him staring at the screen and wishing he could do more.
Isaac had always said he had a rescue complex, that he couldn’t save everybody. But his mentor had also understood what drove him—the quest to give back—and Hudson knew that’s why Isaac had left him his real estate agency in his will. He never failed to see the irony: a man he’d met through Stella in his late teens, a virtual stranger, had looked after him and left him his life’s work, while his father had thrown away the family’s money, and in turn been responsible for the death of his wife, without a second thought.
He’d read up on gambling addiction during his first year working for Isaac, after his mentor had seen he had anger issues when it came to his dad. Considering his family hadn’t been in financial trouble when his father started gambling, his motivation hadn’t been to gain money for them, which left the other option: Rowan craved the emotional high that came with gambling and winning.
As a kid, he remembered the times Rowan would come home from the pub, drunk and ecstatic. He’d be jovial and upbeat, telling ridiculously corny dad jokes and turning up music so he could dance with Hudson’s mum. He’d liked those times, because his dad could be funny when he wanted to be. But the fun times were soon replaced by Rowan’s sullenness, when he’d slink home, drunk and morose, lashing out verbally. His mum had thought Rowan had developed a drinking problem. Little did she know that was a common sign with gamblers, a coping mechanism when they lost, and it signalled far worse to come.
Gaining an understanding of his father’s problems hadn’t helped Hudson come to terms with his resentment. It may have helped his anger issues, but he’d never forgive Rowan for causing them to lose their home and ultimately his mum catching pneumonia and dying from sleeping in an icy car every night.
As if thoughts of his father conjured him up, his mobile rang and one glance at the screen and seeing Rowan’s name made him want to fling the phone against the nearest wall. He contemplated answering it for a second before realising what was the point?
Nothing would change. Rowan would beg forgiveness and ask to meet up; Hudson would be icy and refuse. More often than not he ignored the calls but Rowan persisted. He sometimes wondered if he’d be better off seeing his dad face to face and putting an end to this infernal pestering once and for all. But he didn’t trust himself to look his father in the eye and not punch him.
He hit the ‘decline’ button on his mobile and slipped it into his pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. Predictably, it vibrated, indicating a voicemail. Hudson ignored it and pulled up the numbers for the investors on his laptop. He needed to focus on the task at hand: secure funding for the new youth housing developments. No distractions.
Did that include Karly?
CHAPTER
37
Heidi had enjoyed the post-coital cuddles and scrambled eggs the last time Jem had spent the night. She’d been looking forward to a repeat performance. What she hadn’t expected was to have Jem dress in record time as the first fingers of dawn stole through her bedroom blinds and streaked the ceiling in soft gold, unable to look at her as he sat on the end of the bed to tie his shoelaces.
‘Shall I make pancakes for breakfast?’ Heidi was a firm believer that her fluffy pancakes drenched in maple syrup could cure anything. Though medically speaking, pancakes probably wouldn’t do a lot for what had ailed Jem earlier.
‘No thanks. I’ve got a busy day, want to get a head start.’ He stood and took a step towards the door, his posture unnaturally rigid.
‘Jem, it’s okay—’
