Part 9
The first time he met Chuck, the boy had been a squirming creature bundled in white silk, held up by a pretty young woman who sat in a rocking chair that faced a full glass window overlooking Manhattan. Jack had been twelve, and had made the trip to his older brother's New York hotel so that his mother could peek at the newborn who would inherit a kingdom.
Jack remembered that day. He rode in that elevator and watched the numbers swiftly change near the ceiling. He had wondered then, if his brother lived in heaven, because the ride never seemed to stop. Up and up and up they went, and his mother whispered into his ear, "Almost there, Jack. Don't be scared. We've almost reached Chuck." Jack had nodded somberly, because Chuck lived so high up and his ears seemed so full and heavy he waited for them to pop.
Like they did on the plane ride here.
It was so amazing that they were going to visit Jack's baby boy and needed to travel through the sky to get to him.
Chuck must have been so special, he had thought. His mother made him miss school, had pulled him out for the afternoon much to his classmates' envy. His teacher had excused him for the next few days. Out in the courtyard, Jack noticed his mother's red eyes, her red nose. She looked so sad, like she was sad when his dad died.
Jack wondered if Bart was the one who died now. "Mama?" he prompted. Jack's hand had touched his mother's face, and his little thumb caught a tear. "What's wrong?"
His mother forced a smile, then caught his hand. "You and me, Jack—we're going to New York City. You remember Evelyn?"
Bart had brought home the pretty lady and they all celebrated more than they did any other time Bart came home. When Bart returned to their small town, there was always a big to-do. He was the most successful out of the boys who left the town to make their own place in the world. One day, Bart took the lovely girl to meet their mother, and they threw a big party when they found out Bart was getting married.
Jack nodded. "Bart's wife."
"Well," his mother told him with a shaky voice, "we're visiting Bart because Evelyn's gone, and he has a new baby with no one to take care of him."
He frowned, because his mother was his caretaker and the baby should have a mom to take care of it too. Poor kid. "Bart's rich now. Can't he pay someone?"
His mother nodded, and grew ever sadder. Jack told himself not to bring up the idea again. It made his mom so sad. "Little Chuck has a nanny. But it's different when you're family."
On the plane ride over to New York, Jack clutched his mother's arm as they jetted through the sky. He was seated by the window, and the town he loved grew smaller and smaller until the little houses were noting but colorful dots below them. It was his first plane ride, and when the plane was angled up towards the sky he thought New York City was so high up it was close to the heaven. Even when he felt bad for the baby he thought how cool it was to be living up so high.
But then they landed, and drove through the shockingly busy streets. So many people on one street. More people, he thought, than the entire population of their hometown. When his mother pulled him along to the elevator, Jack craned his neck to watch the numbers move.
It was just when he thought that they were in heaven that his mother pushed at his shoulders. "We're here, Jack."
He was shuffled out, and Jack's eyes grew wide at the sight of the glass windows that proved to him that the baby boy really lived in the clouds.
"Jack, it's good to see you."
Jack looked up at the figure of his older brother. His mother's hand urged him to step forward. Jack did, but stared up at the looming character in front of him. He was his big brother, and he was not. With such a gap in their age Bart never felt like a brother should. He thrust out his hand to Bart, who chuckled and shook it.
"Mama, thank you for coming," Bart murmured.
And then suddenly, his mother pushed him aside to envelop Bart with a warm hug. Again, Jack saw his mother cry. His mother kissed Bart on his cheeks and swore she would help him out as long as she could. Jack thought back to his school, and his friends, and wondered how soon he would see them again.
"How would you like to meet new friends, Jack?" Bart asked in a hoarse voice.
Jack had shrugged and told him, "I like new friends just fine."
His mother seemed reluctant to tear herself from Bart's side. But she went over to Jack and knelt in front of him. Jack touched the silver strands on his mother's hair. "Jack, you're going to attend a nice upscale school for boys here in New York City. Wouldn't that be nice?"
No more of his buddies, no more of the teachers he really liked. But his mother's eyes shone with tears and his own excitement, and Jack just wanted to please her.
"Okay, mama."
She broke into a relieved smile, then was once more right with Bart, holding his hand, consoling him. That was when Jack wandered into the next room.
"Wow!" he declared in awe.
The nurse on the rocking chair held up a finger to her lips. Jack gazed wide-eyed at the shelves and shelves of toys surrounding the room. It had a wider selection than the biggest toy stores in his town. Jack pattered over to one shelf, then spotted the brand new ninja robot warrior they had displayed at the toy store. He had wanted it for his birthday, but his mother found it too pricey and impractical. He glanced at the swaddled baby. Chuck was too little to play it. His fingers would be too small to press the buttons to activate it. Jack's feet pattered over to it. It was too high for him to reach. Jack grasped the upper shelf and placed his feet on the next shelf, then hoisted himself up, and up. Finally, his destination. He plucked it out of the shelf, and sent about four more of Chuck's expensive toys clattering to the floor.
He glanced up guiltily, then heard the loud shrieks of the baby. Jack ran up to the nurse and shushed Chuck. The nurse rocked the baby to comfort him.
When the door opened, Jack squirmed. It was his mother and Bart. The two looked at the heap of toys on the floor. His mother's eyes zoned in on the robot that Jack clutched in his hand.
Chuck calmed down, and the screaming turned to mewling.
"It's alright, mama," he heard Bart say.
Jack hated it when his mother was sad, or angry. And now she was both. She stalked over to him. She snatched the robot from Jack's hand. Jack watched as the robot was placed in Chuck's crib. "This is not yours, Jack. This is Chuck's. Don't touch any of Chuck's toys. Learn your place," she said in a harsh whisper.
His gaze flew up to Bart, who gestured to the nurse. The nurse took the baby out of the nursery.
"This is Chuck's room; Chuck's house."
"Ma, that's not necessary," Bart protested.
Their mother glared at Bart. It was not an occurrence that happened often, so even Bart zipped his mouth. "We all have our place in the world," she told Bart. "You've worked your way out of it. He hasn't done that yet." She turned back to Jack, and her gaze softened slightly. "You will thank me for it when you're a man. Remember Jack, you only have a right to things you earn for yourself."
Jack wondered what the little baby did to earn so many toys, and to live up in the sky. But he didn't ask his mother. You didn't ask his mother when she was sad or angry.
It was not a little boy who sat in front of him now, nursing a glass of scotch. In other circumstances, he would have been more sympathetic to the boy. Chuck had lost his mother when he was born, and had only just lost his father. But Jack had lost his father far too early, and was left with nothing but scrap metal from a barely working car. He had a mother, but Chuck took her away. She had spend the last months of her life taking care of the baby that Bart had been barely able to hold in his own grief.
And he was the boy who lived in heaven.
Now, Chuck looked so different from the angel that his mother adored. With his dark-rimmed eyes and a back that curved so sharply, as if protecting his gut from something unknown, Chuck appeared defeated, helpless.
"Too much," the boy said. "She's had too much." Chuck held up his phone, squinting at the text. Jack gritted his teeth, because there was nothing like it in his inbox. No explanation like the one she was obviously able to do for Chuck.
Jack remained silent. He took a glass and poured scotch for himself.
Chuck scowled, then faced Jack. "What was I supposed to do? I can't—I'm barely holding on. She wants more than I can give her right now." His voice dropped. "She's the one who wants too much. And I've been trying. Why the hell would she leave me now right when I need her the most?"
Jack tipped the glass down his throat. "Maybe it's not about you," he finally said.
The boy had everything in the world, and this was how he responded.
"Then what?" Chuck snapped. "You?"
Jack smiled thinly, then finished his drink. "Maybe." He felt, rather than saw, when Chuck's shackles rose. "Or maybe it's about Blair. Maybe leaving is what's best for her."
"She's lived here her whole life, and you think being out there with strangers would be better?"
Jack waited, because even if Chuck was a kid, he was sure he could put it together. And he did. He saw the realization the moment it hit him. He had run away when it became too much, when he needed to escape and forget. He had left his friends and everyone who said they were family.
"I'm gonna find her," Chuck said in resolution.
Jack poured himself another glass. This was the time, because admission would be easier for her in the long run. So he said, "I'm gonna find her, Chuck."
"The hell you will. Stop messing with us."
He leaned over to his nephew. "I've been in love with her since before I dragged your ass back here. Just thought you should know." He slid out of his barstool and took his full glass with him.
"Does she know?" Jack heard his nephew call to him.
He turned, raised his glass to Chuck, and said, "Of course she does."
"No wonder she ran away," the boy returned.
Jack drank his scotch, then discarded the glass on a vase pedestal. He walked out of the bar and entered the town car he had waiting for him. Jack settled into the backseat. He called the lawyer, and retrieved the name and contact details of the PI in Bart's employ.
And then he called the man.
"I need you to find someone for me."
The man did not miss a beat. "Blair Waldorf."
"How did you know?"
"Just got off the phone with Chuck Bass for the exact same thing. No can do, boss. I'm on an exclusive project. The boy's the one who's got the money," answered the investigator.
"I'll double the fee," Jack offered. There were tons of other PIs out there, but this was different. This was hiring someone out from under Chuck's nose. He needed to get something that Chuck was sure was his.
"It's a matter of establishing good business relationships. Sorry. This is the Bass heir."
Jack hung up the phone. He would find another man, a better investigator, a faster worker, even a more expensive one.
The Bass heir.
Always, it had to be the Bass heir over him.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He missed her, her fragrance, her eyes, her voice. He licked his lips, in the vain hope that there would still be a faint trace of her coating them. But there was nothing but scotch on his tongue. His hand rose to touch himself over his pants. Jack squeezed himself, imagining it was her hand. He gripped even tighter, remembering the noises she made she came on his face.
"Blair." The name flew from his lips. His hips rose from the seat. He unbuttoned his pants and lid his hand inside his boxer's and grasped himself. He would find her. Soon. Even before Chuck did. He would find her. And then he would bury himself so deep inside her, look down into her eyes and hear her gasp into his ear. His hands worked, faster, lighter, more violently. He grabbed the box of tissues that sat at the back, then grabbed several sheets. He jammed them down in his pants in perfect time. "I love you too," she would moan just the exact moment when her muscles clamped around him. Jack spurted a long, tightly held release, drenching the tissue. He gasped as he tried to catch his breath.
Jack discarded the used tissue, then with a slightly trembling hand, reached for his phone.
tbc
