Cheer Up, Daddy!

Can't Handle The Poop

-Chapter Two-

(Can't Handle The Poop)

Jackson was angry.

No, he's always angry. Right now, he was furious.

Jackson had been hiding in his private washroom for almost two hours, trying to wash out the coffee stain off his pants. Standing there in his black boxer-brief, he stared blankly at the dark black stain, hoping that if he stared hard enough the stain would magically disappeared. Jackson definitely hoped he stared hard enough that a black hole would appear in thin air and suck his whole existence right off this world. His hands were shaking in anger as he was rubbing the stain with a bar of soap, the soap broke into half under his strength and he lost himself by chucking the pants at the marble floor.

Jackson clenched his eyes shut and tuned out the rumbling engine coming from above. He needed to calm down, he couldn't afford to explain to his secretary why his mirror was broken again. She asked too much questions and the judgy look she gave him only made him angrier.

Jackson swallowed thickly, fists holding tightly to his sides. He wanted to break the mirror, he was tempted now he'd thought about it. The anger was oozing itself out from his body, breaking out slowly into wasp. No, Jackson thought, he needed to let it out now. He opened his eyes and with a sudden burst of adrenaline, he rammed his fist right onto the mirror.

He let out a clear sigh of relief until the pain exploded at his knuckles. Blood, his blood was breaking out from his skin and damping all over the shattered mirror. Jackson grit his teeth and held his bleeding hand under the running water, hissing with pain and gripping the edge of the sink with his other hand as the water washed the blood away into the drain. He turned off the tap after he could finally ignore the tingling pain left on his fist, slumping his whole body on the wall to rest his mind.

If only Jackson could wish it all away with a dandelion in hand or a shooting star across the night.

...

He's Jackson Ford for God sake!

Barely reaching the age of thirty, Jackson had graduated from Harvard University with a MBA degree. Due to his exquisite physique, he was a former model during his college year and he was on the cover of GQ magazine once. He only ended his modeling year when he had to return to his family business. His mother was Claire Ford, if anyone who didn't know her, they might have shopped at her mall, CM Ford. Claire Ford had an idea of offering a unique VIP segment for those big spenders and shopaholics. The idea soon blew up to be a popular hit in the marketing industry, allowing CM Ford to be featured as the most influence shopping mall of all America, she had hundreds of establishments spread over Italy, Taiwan, Japan, and China.

And Jackson Ford had been managing his mother's America branch of CM Ford all by himself the second he left the airport from Bali. He had gone through hell with the early and late night meetings, stubborn and snobbish clients, and lousy workers in order to keep up his outstanding achievement in raising the company's performance by 10%.

Jackson Ford was determined to be on top, being the son of the woman who had owned the biggest marketing enterprise across the countries, he had to live up the image. Hoping to create the illusion as the perfect man, Jackson Ford had done it all. 

But today's outrageous scene had left the shards of a perfect man.

He fired a lot of people, like a bunch of them. But never once a person was dared enough to dump his coffee on-

Oh god, Jackson was all fired up again, just thinking about Andrew Walker had brought a lot of blood and gore to his mind when he was done with him. He had personally called up his attorney to make sure he could sue Andrew Walker until he could no longer live on this planet. That was an assault and the rumor? Jackson had to remember the pain of his hand to calm down.