The Family Man

Chapter 15

Two things might have been overlooked.

#1: The rebound effect of jealousy.

#2: Ari Onassis' black belt in Tae Kwon Do.

It took about seven and a half minutes before the lights came into focus and sensation returned to the left side of his face. Jack winced. Jackie was hovering above him, her hands cool on his cheeks. It occurred to Jack that she was calling his name, but a dull ringing filled his head like sand instead.

"I can't swallow," Jack murmured casually. "Is that bad?"

Joe handed Jackie a frozen pack of peas and she pressed it gently against Jack forehead, reeling out commands: "The broom is in the supply closet, Joe, tell Kate to take care of the broken glass. Make sure she doesn't cut herself. That entire cabinet might have to be thrown out, too. Oh, and tell Mrs. Lincoln to close shop for a little while; we need to time to sort out this mess. And the front counter is just a disaster."

"And what about Ari?" Joe cleared his throat.

"What about Onassis, Joe?" Jackie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Shove him into a cab and send him home. I don't want to fucking deal with him right now. At least not until tomorrow morning, depending on his job availability."

"Righto. I'm on it." The door clicked shut behind him. At the noise, Jack stirred and took in his surroundings. He couldn't remember being dragged into the back room.

Jackie turned back to find her victim staring off into space. She shoved his shoulder and Jack drew back with a grimace, "Ow. Goddamn, Kid. Man down."

"What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded, eyes glittering. "Enlighten me, for God's sake."

"I wasn't thinking," Jack mumbled, sore. "I was reacting."

"No shit you weren't thinking," Jackie glared. She adjusted the pack for him and touched his forehead tenderly. "This looks pretty bad," she muttered, her fingers grazing over his skin. "Onassis is a pretty strong guy, Jack, he kind of handed your ass over—"

"Yeah, okay, I get it," Jack spoke heatedly, "that explains the state of my internal organs right now. He's superhuman."

Jack watched Jackie sort through a First Aid kit. She cleaned the scrape on his forehead with a cotton pad. In the process, pieces of hair kept falling out of her ponytail and into her face and she kept tucking them back in frustration, practically huffing. This was the moment that Jack chose to ask, very cautiously, "Is there anything going on between you and Aristotle Onassis?"

Her blank stare was frustrating, and the breezy tone in which she spoke in all the more infuriating: "You're an idiot."

"I'm serious," he insisted.

"You're stupid, actually. Tell me if this hurts," she touched his head.

It hurts."

"Suck it up."

Jack scowled and propped himself up on his elbows, fixing her with a cold stare. And then the words tumbled out of him like verbal diarrhea: "I don't understand how you could let him speak to you that way. It's like you're encouraging him. Is that really who you would go after? Seriously? If you think Aristotle Onassis is such a catch, with his suburban tragic past and fucking Jet Li shit going on, then by all means, skip off into a sunset, go to Paris, buy a timeshare and make babies—"

Her hand suddenly clamped over his mouth and Jack blinked up at her, startled.

Jackie looked amused when she leaned in very close and said very calmly, "Hi there. I'm going to try to prevent you from making a comment right now that insults my morals, intelligence and values. Because we all know that you do not want to sleep on the couch tonight. That's where Tom camps out and he will kill you in your sleep and hide the evidence in his litter box."

Jack mumbled into her palm and she continued on. "Now," Jackie smiled, eyes bright, "as long as I have your attention, I'm going to use it to tell you that you're a shithead for all the assumptions you've just pulled out of your ass. I haven't let Onassis do anything. And as it just so happens, Mike Tyson, I was about to educate the man on the proprieties of employee conduct before you had your golden moment of failed testosterone glory in which you smashed Ari into the cash register."

Jack's lips moved against her hand in unheard protest.

"No, I'm not gonna include the kidney punch because that wasn't fair game."

He rolled his eyes.

"So," said his wife, "if we're clear, I'd be happy to let you talk again as long as you spare me your accusations made of bullshit. We've been together since the Stone Age; if there were somebody else, I would have run off years ago. But as it goes, for all your bitching and mood swings, I love you. Are we cool?"

Jack searched her face and hesitated. He remembered to nod.

She released her hand and sat back on her heels, drawing her unruly curls back into a loose bun. Jack sat up and watched her, his jaw slack and his expression puzzled. When Jackie finally sensed his attentions, her head jerked up, at the ready to reprimand his behavior for a second time.

But as it were, Jack was so taken with Jackie at that exact moment that he leaned forward, cupped her cheek and kissed her. He hadn't kissed Jacqueline Bouvier in years. And something about her mouth brushing against his, the way her arms folded delicately around his neck, her skin warm against his touch...

You've been a fool.

Her small hands crept to his chest and Jackie suddenly shoved him back, eyes skeptical. "I'm not stupid. You can't take a couple weeks of being cold, add in a violent misdemeanor and expect it to go away just because you kiss pretty well."

Jack looked at her mouth again, "That's probably true."

"Yeah, it is."

Both were silent. Mrs. Lincoln could be heard, voice muffled, hollering out directions and moving furniture. There was a thump. Probably Joe and Katie trudging the cabinets over. The splintered cabinets, because, well, Jack had to land into something.

Jackie looked down and bit her lip, and Jack tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers flitted by her cheek, her neck, her hair...

"Okay, fine."

Jack grinned and pulled her close again (Jackie laughing) as they sunk back to the floor...