Before I start this off, I must say that staying within Jack and Rose's characters even though this is in a different era is very hard, but I have tried. Reading some of this, it isn't exactly like I imagine them to be in 1912 but it is in 1954. Forty years later.
I have put a lot a lot a lot a lot into this since writing it, going back making some parts perfect and I have actually really discovered loving writing again!
Also, some references to music, movies, things like that may not be 100% accurate either. I have tried to research the best I can for this era and that is what I have found but I didn't spend five hours searching for every little thing I just want it to be in the background so if there are errors then please let me know but just let them slide Also, there is some bad language in parts of this, as it goes on, so again if you don't like that sort of them then probably best to stop here.
Thanks for reading.
The Young and The Restless.
Chapter one:
Santa Monica, 1954.
She buried her face in a book, as she always did. Her face shielded behind a shiny menu at the Grill. A restaurant which she had discovered just that week. She sat right at the back in a booth; away from prying eyes, nosy customers and the front window. Her eyes flowed over the page as she listed the words in her head which formed into a beautiful story; a love story. She didn't even know the name of the book but she was so into it that she didn't notice a waiter approach her table once or twice, or that he had been sweeping the floor nearby with a brush that was so hard it almost marked the floor, just to get her attention. Only two others sat in the diner, at the front, where most of the young girls sat as they saw the young men who passed by town, eyeing up their quiffs and Rugby club style clothes. Their red lips shone, their nails painted shades of pinks, burgundies and the occasional blue and their hair set into the same permed style as the women of the fashion pages wore. Each one of them was a clone of the other.
The waiter passed those girls at the front, their giggling had started to annoy him. He was intrigued by the girl with the red hair, the long auburn curls which fell into her face. He knew that her style of mauve dress wasn't in 'fashion', nor was her hair. As he could now see her lips, he did spy they were a dark red, not the pillar-box colour of the models. He smiled as he flipped his hair from his face. He wasn't one to follow the fashions either, James Dean wasn't quite the icon for him as much as the other guys although he was fond of the car, the cigarettes and the jean style pants. The brush scraped across the floor, causing a loud noise but that still didn't quite deter the girl from the book. She was enthralled. He stopped sweeping and leant against his brush, hand on hip and felt the smirk cross his face. He coughed, once. Nothing. Then he coughed again, this time it was louder, faker but still she didn't even shift. He raised his eyebrows.
''You know, I'm starting to wonder what that damn book is about?'' He broke the silence. Slowly, she peeled her eyes away from her book and seconds later they met his. He felt his breathing stop for a quick second. They were the most beautiful green that he had ever seen. Brown and neutral tones of eyeshadow, liner and mascara set them off. Her skin was white, almost translucent. His eyes swept about her face. She didn't smile.
''I beg your pardon?''
He leant more onto his brush and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
''You've not looked up from the book for about an hour. In fact, you came in here and you never even ordered anything.''
For a second, she looked in front of her and seemed embarrassed as she realised that he was right. ''Oh- I will have a tea. Strong. No sugar.''
''Tea?'' He laughed.
She narrowed her eyes at him. ''Yes, do you serve tea?''
Jack closed his mouth and pressed his lips together as he nodded. ''Sure.''
He hesitated before proceeding to make her tea. Her eyes were back in her book and it was as though he didn't exist. He went out on a whim and leant closer to her. ''Hey, do you not want a soda, milkshake or an ice cream?''
That was what most of the girls her age drank or ordered. Tea was for the older ladies, those who gossiped over a pot at country lunches. He couldn't help but smirk. She wasn't one of them.
She lifted her head from her book once more. ''No, thank you. I want tea.'' She told him firmly.
''All right.''
He placed his brush against the wall and started for the counter to make her tea. He noticed as he passed the girls at the front, one of them giggled. He rolled his eyes. He ensured the water was in the kettle before placing it on the mini stove to boil. Finding a cup, he placed a teabag into it and allowed his eyes to watch her for just a minute. The menu seemed to cover her entire face. He frowned, trying to figure her out. Just what was the deal with this book?
The kettle boiled quickly and he poured water into the cup, filling it to the brim. Putting the cup on a saucer, he brought it over to her table, ignoring the giggles once more.
He placed it on the counter.
''Thank you,'' she said, quietly, not looking up from the page.
He sighed, heavily.
''It's all right.'' He lingered for about five seconds before she glanced at him sharply, obviously annoyed by his presence.
''Yes?''
He crossed his arms over his chest. He was going out on a whim here. ''I'm Jack Dawson. I haven't seen you around here before, that's all.''
She narrowed her eyes at him. ''I don't have a spoon for my tea, Mr. Dawson.''
''Oh, shit,'' he turned back to the counter to get her a spoon, seconds later he returned with a tea spoon which he handed to her slowly.
''Thank you.''
''You're welcome.'' He crossed his arms once more, leaning against the opposite side of the booth. She sighed.
''Thank you for the tea, now may I be left to drink, alone.''
Jack nodded, ''sure,'' he went to walk away but something stopped him. What was it about this girl? He had to know something, anything. ''Hey, you got a name?''
''No.''
He sighed, frustrated. ''All right, I get that you don't want to be disturbed but the thing is, those girls there at the front, they sit in here all days, giggling like something is tickling their panties, and I get like I could just talk to a new face. I'd like to just get to you know.''
The girl raised her eyebrows, repulsed. ''I assure you, Mr. Dawson. I am not one of those girls, I do not wish to be like those girls and therefore you will not be getting to know me, as I am sure you have those girls.''
Jack laughed aloud. ''You think- you think I've dated them? That I want to get to know you for that reason?''
''Well, why else would you stand around here for fifteen minutes when I have clearly said I wish to be left alone?''
Her eyes were cold, almost icy. He wondered what her story was. He felt like he needed to get past that exterior. ''So, who are you hiding from?'' The words just slipped out, it was more of something which he was thinking at that moment and not something which you ask a lady right out.
She widened her eyes, directing that stare right at him. Her body was stiff, upright and rigid. ''Excuse me? Just what are you-''
At that moment a loud car door slamming could be heard. Music followed and it wasn't from inside the Grill. Outside, four guys stood dressed head to toe in black suits. One carried a guitar, the others all wore black shades. They got out of the black car one by one as the girls passing by town stopped to see them, to steal a glance. It was as though James Dean himself had arrived, perhaps followed by Elvis Presley.
''They look like they've just played at a damn funeral.'' Jack shook his head. He noticed the girl was now pretty much laying her head down on the table. She wasn't one to be eyeing up the new crowd.
''So that's who you're hiding from? Which one is your boyfriend?''
Her eyes met his and they seemed less icy, almost normal. He sensed her worry and his jaw tightened. ''Are you all right?''
She nodded. ''I just need to get out of here, before they come in.'' She was glancing about for another exit as she gathered up her things as quickly as she could whilst keeping one eye firmly on the door.
Jack glanced up at the Coca Cola clock above the door. It was five to five. His shift was due to end in five minutes. He quickly removed the apron from around his waist and he grasped a bunch of keys. ''Wait here,'' he told her quietly. He threw his apron on the table which the girls sat at the front of the Grill. He startled them.
''Carlo will be here to start in five minutes. Give him these and tell them you need a couple of sodas on me, all right?''
One of the girls, known as Cara grabbed the apron. ''If I tell him, do I get more than a soda?'' She asked, one eyebrow raised.
''Sure, whatever's on the menu.'' He told her, oblivious as he walked away. He kept one eye on the guys outside the Grill. They were slowly approaching the door. The girl was sat in the same spot, her book now folded away inside her bag. He knew he would have to work quick but first he needed facts.
''All right, so who's the guy?''
''What?''
''Look, I can get you out of here within seconds and they'll never know you were here.''
She closed her eyes tight. She seemed to struggle with something. ''He's an ex.'' She muttered.
''All right.'' He grabbed the menu, holding it to her face so that it wasn't visible. He took her hand in his as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She pulled back at first but he grabbed her tighter. They were just about to enter the Grill when he pulled her through a back door and into a dark room. It was so dark that she could do nothing but step and hold onto this strange man's hand, trusting him and hoping that he wasn't going to lead her to her death. They went down two long, narrow corridors until he led her outside. Two large gates sat in front of them and one beat up dark green Dodge sat there. He let go of her hand.
''Jump in.'' He told her. She went to the passenger side and slid into the seat. The car smelt of tobacco and cologne.
Jack got into the driver's seat, he shifted about, raising his pelvis as he rummaged in his pocket for something and then he pulled out his keys. Her eyes travelled to his trousers. They were a dark denim, his navy shirt tucked in. He moved his hair from his eyes as he put the keys into the ignition and started the car. He was handsome. She hadn't noticed that about him before.
''Rose.'' She said, quietly.
He frowned, as he put on his seatbelt.
''My name, it is Rose.''
His serious face broke out into a smile. ''Rose.'' It rolled off his tongue so easily.
''Yes.''
They drove around the back of the Grill and through a narrow side street onto the main road. Rose pulled a patterned headscarf from her bag and pulled it over her head and tied it beneath her chin, a pair of dark sunglasses followed. Jack watched her. She was like a movie star.
As they passed the front of the Grill, no one battered an eye lid at the beat up old car. Rose watched as her ex stood outside, smoking a cigarette. She failed to notice Jack's eyes on her. He couldn't stop watching her.