The Family Man

Chapter 22

Jackie Bouvier laughed, loud and incredulous. "Jack. John Kennedy. Jesus Christ, you're the last person I expected at my door on a Monday night. I thought you were Chinese takeout."

Jack's smile was strained and uncertain. He thought to shrug (an awkward man's gesture of choice) but seemed to forget that his left arm was in a sling.

"Sorry I didn't call first." A beat. "Then again, you've probably changed numbers over the last decade." He winced a little. Dickhead.

"Yeah," Lizzy tucked a strand of hair out of her face and leaned against the doorframe. "What happened to you?"

"I got shot."

"Nice"

"Right?" Jack blinked.

"Sorry if that was insensitive," Jackie's mouth quirked up a little. She pushed the door open. "Oh, won't you come in, Jack?" The tinge of sarcasm was slight but deliberate.

This wouldn't be easy.

Jackie's apartment was clean and lived in. The walls were colorful and bookshelves were everywhere. In the corner of the living room was an old leather armchair and an abandoned quilt tossed over it. Two or three guitar cases rested against a radiator. A mug of tea sat above a dusty stack of records. And she was still painting. It was something that warmed his heart in its familiarity. There was a gorgeous piece of a faceless, fluid young dancer hanging above the coffee table; he must have stared for around thirty seconds before he realized he was alone.

Jack found Jackie in the kitchen, making coffee. He wouldn't have been making coffee for himself.

Hi," Jack cleared his throat. "I realize it's beyond weird—showing up like this, out of the blue."

"Just a little."

"But I was supposed to see you on Friday." When Jackie turned, skeptical, Jack wrung his hands together. "I'm that friend of Lem Billings. The jerk who never showed up to meet your sister."

Jackie's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry," she laughed, "my world just shrunk like five times. That was you?"

"Yeah. I uh, couldn't make it that night. Being shot and all." Jack looked down at his shoes. "But I still wanted to see you. It's been a very long time. I kind of wanted to catch up."

Jackie was chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "That's—wow." She shook her head, as if to clear cobwebs. "That's considerate of you. But I'm having trouble understanding why. I mean, I don't think I've seen you in ten years. At least."

"I know," Jack faltered. "But I just—you have to understand. I had to see you again. I had to know."

"Know," Jackie repeated, smiling. "Know what? How I am?"

"Something like that."

She handed him a cup of coffee and laughed. "The great Jack Kennedy comes looking for closure after all these years." Jackie cocked her head, "I'm sort of touched. Thank God I wasn't holding my breath. But Jack, you really shouldn't have. I'm fine. More than fine, actually. Life doesn't suck at the moment. Crisis averted."

Jack stumbled for words and was pretty sure he had them. But then the front door swung open and Jackie excused herself. Jack groaned and rested his forehead against the cabinets. Damn.

A dog barked and he bristled. Jack craned his neck past the doorway and saw a black lab dart into the living room and hop up onto the leather armchair, nestling into the old quilt.

"Tom!" a man's voice hollered. "Down, boy."

"No fucking way," Jack smirked.

In the foyer, a young man was shrugging out of a worn leather jacket and removing a baseball cap. He was about Jack's height, back facing the kitchen. Jackie took his cap and tossed it onto the end table.

"How was your walk?" she asked.

"That dog chases everything."

"So, you got some exercise out of it?" A squeak and a laugh. He had pulled her in for a kiss.

Jack pulled back and set his cup down in the sink. Then he left the kitchen.

The dog instantly started barking. Animals officially hated him.

Lee was right, and he hated her for it. The man was William Holden and he was scruffy but handsome and Darcy wanted to hit him square in the jaw. Mostly because he was just cool. He owned a record label downtown and played gigs. And he came from old money. Rich family in New York. Of course, Jack would spend the next couple of days collecting this information. Life didn't stuff handy 3'' by 5'' index cards in his pockets.

"Oh," Jackie turned, "Will, this is Jack Kennedy. An old friend."

Ouch.

William smiled and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you." He hesitated, "I hope Jacqueline didn't do that to you."

"No," Jack laughed uncomfortably. "I was shot last week."

"Looks pretty bad."

"I walked away with stitches and a concussion. It could have been much worse."

"Oh, you're concussed," Jackie's smile was shrewd. "This all makes sense now."

"No, it's not like that," Jack said suddenly.

Will looked up.

Jackie pursed her lips and looked down at her slippers.

"Well, I better go," Jack murmured.

"Take care," he clapped him on the shoulder and Jack stiffened. Will whistled to Tom and the dog went leaping to his side, tail wagging furiously. "There's a good boy. Stop being such a sweetheart." He disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.

"He seems nice," Jack stuffed his free hand in his pocket.

Jackie was nodding.

"You love him?"

She arched an eyebrow, "Wow. That's not invasive or anything."

"Sorry." Jack cleared his throat. "...I should go."

"Yeah."

Jack automatically leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Bye, Kid."

The door slammed shut behind him.