CHAPTER 1
Sonny McCain's fair hair always looked unruly, his pale blue eyes against a tan looked reasonably 'cool' but unfortunately his wide mouth drooped at one corner, meaning he missed out being handsome. However some females tended to think there was something about Sonny that was loveable.
Sonny's two brothers and sister were highly personable and great looking but Sonny was his mom's favorite although she didn't know why.
At the post-grad ball Sonny with his master's degree in business administration didn't have one partner; he had two. Both fellow graduates, Becky and Karen, had wanted him to partner them so they approached Sonny together and asked him to pick one of them. He grinned.
"Look I'll take you both but one of you will have to disappear after we leave the ball."
The two women shrugged and smiled as if they already had worked that out.
That night proved to be a defining point in the young man's life, teaching him that the conventional attitudes to sex were unnecessarily restrictive and that three could be just fine in certain situations.
* * *
Sonny's father Grant McCain owned and operated the 'Paddington & District Star', the city's evening newspaper that was struggling to survive against the national economic decline affecting evening newspapers because of television and social changes. The Star also had strong competition from the 'Billingsgate City's Morning Enquirer' in the larger city only sixty miles to the north. Once Sonny gained more experience in editorial Grant intended to reduce his involvement to being company chairman and managing editor, handing over the very profitable commercial printing side of the business to Sonny who would eventually head the company. At least that was the plan.
On his first day at work Sonny's mother Peggy dropped him off at the office; after six years fulltime at university of rising early and falling asleep late he had a new regime to learn.
"Right darling," said his mother kissing him fully on the lips, her hand placed over his heart and her own heart pounding because of such close contact. "Do what you father says and don't go around lording it because you are the proprietor's son."
"Okay."
"Come on, give me another kiss."
"Aw, mom."
"Don't you love me anymore," Peggy said, eyes dilating.
"Sure do mom."
"Well kiss me, put your hand on my breast; you know that sends shivers up me."
"Aren't I rather old for this sort of full on mother-son thing?"
"You'll make my cry darling."
"Aw, we can't be having that, can we? Are your tits getting bigger?"
"Breasts darling. Yes, I'm putting on age weight all over. Haven't you noticed?"
"You still look perfect to me, mom."
"Oh you devil, now off you go and have a nice day."
Sonny went off thinking his mom really had to wean from him. The other day when he arrived home he had this distinct thought that she came within an ace of attempting to take him to bed; all the signs where there. Perhaps she needed professional counseling?
Since the age of fourteen Sonny had worked on the newspaper, starting in the printing works first for pocket money and accepting as heir apparent he ought to observe carefully how everything worked and pick up skills and as well become educationally qualified to become a top businessman. That was fine by him; he had no intention of leaving Paddington. He was left as the only sibling interested in carrying on the business started by his great-great-grandfather. His two brothers lived overseas and his sister was a junior partner in a law firm.
Sonny turned to wave goodbye to his mom in the car who was looking at him, wiping her eyes. He then headed inside the building to editorial.
Chief reporter Tim Giles looked at Sonny approaching and then looked pointedly at the huge clock that ruled the newsroom routine: it was 9:10. Start time was 7:30.
"Out finding an early-morning front page lead without the benefit of my guidance McCain?"
Sonny looked at the veteran newsman and said, "Tim, please give me a week to adjust my time-clock. Then I'll be revved up to fulfill you every need as my boss. How's Nancy?"
"Pregnant but it couldn't have been you; I'll mangle the scumbag when I find him. She's marrying Ivan Hurst."
"Wow, she's lucky; she adored him at school. How did she manage that?"
Tim lowered his voice. "His mother and I are, how do you say, wink-wink."
"I've learnt at university it pays to have influential friends in high places, Tim, but didn't realize that's how you rope them in."
"Smart-ass and call me Mr Giles in the office understand?"
"Yes Milord."
Tim hid his smile and looked at the list of assignments on his computer screen. "Let's see if we need someone to walk the city sewers with an inspection team."
Sonny looked uneasy but his face changed to relief when Tim said he should accompany Muriel White and photographer Jess Macdonald to a meeting at the Chamber of Commerce offices.
"I know Jess but who's this Muriel broad?"
"We only employ ladies in editorial McCain apart from you. Over there in the corner wearing a jockey's hat."
"I think it's a fashionable hat imported from Italy."
"Do you want to become our fashion reporter?"
"Hell no."
"Then keep your critical comments to yourself."
"Yes sir, Mr Giles."
"That's better. By Friday morning I want you starting like everyone else here at 7:30; is that understood."
"Yes sir, Mr Giles."
"Miss White?"
"It's Mrs White. What do you want?"
"Er I've forgotten," Sonny sighed, dragging his eyes away from her gaping cleavage; he was ready to roll. "Oh yes, I'm new and Mr Giles has coupled me to be with you today."
Muriel looked up to take a real interest and flushed. "Oh God," she wheezed. "Coupled?"
"Pardon me?"
"You're the boss's son, aren't you? We were told to expect you and to treat you as a spy."
"And?"
"I'll make up my own mind," Muriel said, reaching across her desk from her handbag.
"You can trust me. If you decide to have a piece of me I won't breath a word to your husband."
"You're cute sonny, but not that cute. What's your name?"
"Sonny."
"Your real name smart-ass?"
"Sonny!" screamed photographer Jess Macdonald racing up, camera bag bouncing against her very ample right hip. She grabbed him in a bear hug and smeared his face with lipstick. "It's so lovely to see you again. I knew you were starting with us today; keeping gentlemen's hours I see. You've met Muriel. She's new and very sweet but, alas for you, untouchable I believe."
Turning to Muriel, Jess said that she and Sonny use to be a number until the field came into his focus. "Oh, and of course when I started putting on weight. He likes them slim with big boobs... er, just like you."
The slim and big boob Muriel stood up and said, "Well, that's of no interest to me. Let's go gang."
"Oh goodie," Jess burbled. "We have you for the morning Sonny; how lovely."
They walked to the meeting room late because the two women kept looking in store windows.
The chairman stopped talking to glare and then announce, "The Press has arrived. Because the Chamber is a democratic society they are entitled to report anything they wish unless you rise and specifically ask me to rule that any particular comment is confidential and ought not be published. You abide with that don't you, er, Jess?"
"Yes Mr Philips-Brown, my colleagues and I agree."
A group of farmers had applied to the City Council to run a Sunday market; the Council had agreed subject to approval of the Chamber. The meeting was between retailers against the move and representatives of the farmers seeking the Chamber's endorsement.
The issues were discussed and a deadlock reached. "Well unless anyone has anything further to say I'll have to deliver my decision on behalf of the Chamber," Mr Philips-Brown advised.
Sonny, with his mind newly trained to approach problem-solving by paring it to main issues and pushing emotion to the side and then progressing analytically, raised his hand.
"I'm sorry young man but you have no status entitling you to speak," the chairman said.
One of the two Chamber members sitting on the panel with Mr Philips-Brown said: "Let him speak, Herbert, He's Grant McCain's youngest kid whose arrived back with his degree and will be running the Star soon and will doubtless become president of this Chamber one day. His name is Sonny McCain.
"Speak Sonny."
"Mr Philips-Brown, Billingsgate has had two farmers' markets at weekends for as long as living memory and both are very successful and well-liked. I suggest this deadlock between our farmers be put to test to determine when opposition by retailers who are worried about noise, mess and the attraction of undesirable people is justified. Advise the Council of the concerns of retailers and suggest the market be licensed for a month's trial with the condition imposed that the stallholders' group engage street cleaners on contract at the group's expense and undertake in writing to pay any costs the council wishes to pass on for the reinstatement of Fitzherbert's Green. For that of course the group will need a guarantor. My father will gladly accept that objection as a Saturday market will add character to the town square."
"Thank you Sonny," said the chairman, looking over the top of his brown-framed spectacles.
"Good work Sonny; he's smiling so your suggestion will be accepted," Muriel said. "As soon as Jess takes her pic of the two leaders with the chairman you grab the happy farmer's chief and I'll take the disgruntled retailers' chief; we'll only want thirty or so words of strong quotes from each of them."
The farmers' group leader Ben Hackshaw shook Sonny's hand while slapping him on the back. "Well done young man; I couldn't see that deadlock being broken and knew the panel would feel obliged to take the side of their own members under those circumstances. You're a hero and must come to the opening day of our trial."
Sonny thanked Mr Hackshaw and after tossing the farmer a few questions was finished. "My daughter is searching for a good-looking bloke like you. She's just graduated from agricultural college and has found most of the guys she knew before going away are either married or turned gay. Perhaps you should come to our farm and meet her."
"That's a nice thought, Mr Hackshaw but just tell her I'm interested and suggest she call me at the Star and ask for Sonny McCain."
"B-but it's the guy who organizes the date?"
"Not necessarily, Mr Hackshaw; times are changing. My photo will be on the business section of tonight's Star as coming on board at the newspaper. If she feels her hormones react she'll call me."
