Chapter four:

The hands seemed to have crawled around the clock all afternoon. The sun was beaming through the windows, there was no air except when a customer came in and a breeze wafted through the door of the Grill. The greasy smell filled the air and Jack clock watched each second until quarter to five when his shift was almost over. Could time go any slower?

He ignored the stares from the girls who watched him sit, serve and generally tidy the area which he had done all day since 9am. They had ordered one orange juice between three of them and then sat daintily sipping from it for a few hours. He wiped his hands down his apron as he let his eyes wonder to the back booth where Rose had been sat the evening before. He sighed. The time they had spent together the night before had been the most fun he had had in a long time. Rose was a bright and beautiful girl, but she seemed to be trapped someplace and he didn't know why or how to even contemplate releasing her—or why he cared so much. Part of him knew how he should have left her to sit, engrossed within her book and to not give a damn, but the rational part had coaxed out the truth, in part. Of course, there would be more to the story, but the moral was; she had been hurt, physically by one of those—penguins.

Sighing, Jack placed his face in his hands and leant on the counter. His mind had not rested all day, and he was in some sort of constant state of agitation, knowing he would never see her again, feeling defenceless and also, like slamming his fist into something hard to either wake himself up from the romantic dazed dream he had fallen into, or as a practise for punching him square in the face as revenge for hurting a young girl.

When Jack had driven her home, it was in a prominent neighbourhood in the centre of town, away from the prying eyes on a private estate. He had lingered outside the house for a few minutes when she had gone inside. That was her home; it was like something from a movie. All white house, double glazed windows and lovely picket fence about it. A sweet home. One clearly above those who got their fingers dirty for a living. Perhaps seeing the place where she lived should have deterred him from the interest of which he had. The girl was classes above him in every way, though the cloud of misery surrounding her was not clearer.

The doorbell rang, indicating that a customer had entered and disturbed Jack's thoughts. He grabbed his notepad and pencil from behind his ear as he always did, in a monotonous routine which he knew backwards. it was difficult to give service with a smile though, his mind was so saturated of her. Pushing it aside, and ignoring his foggy head as he looked up, he came face to face with a pair of black sunglasses.

''You seen her busboy?'' Jack was asked, in a tone which he assumed to be a threatening one, thick with an accent he couldn't place.

The tone wasn't threatening at all. Jack smirked, lowering his pencil and pad to the counter. The man enquiring was one of those James Dean wannabes who rode around with Rose's ex.

''Seen who?''

''Rose Dewitt Bukater?''

Jack furrowed his brow, turning over his lip and shook his head slowly, knowing he was talking about Rose, even though her full name was never revealed the night before. He kept his cool and the vague quality which he possessed so well.

''Why? Can you not see her, not with how dark those glasses are?''

The girls behind started giggling, their laughs like that of naughty schoolchildren and Jack placed his hands either side of his notepad to lean against the counter. The young man narrowed his gaze at the girls, his stance widened and his spine rigid to puff out his chest to show his annoyance.

''Shut up, will ya.'' Turning back to Jack, he hunched across the counter. ''I asked you the other day, to keep an eye out, you told me that you would.''

Jack narrowed his eyes at the jerk. ''I am afraid that you are mistaken for you never asked me a damn thing.''

The guy glanced at the name tag on Jack's collar. Realisation must have set in, as he sighed in frustration before shaking his head. ''Well, I asked one of you guys. You all look the same.'' It was meant to be a cheap shot, Jack knew, one to allow him to know just how beneath this asshole he was supposed to feel, but none of it worked the way it was intended to.

''So, do you. Those leather jackets, the shades, the black denim...it's like you've played a damn funeral.'' The guy stayed silent. ''Now, my shifts about over so if you're not ordering a raspberry ripple then please, get out of my way.''

Jack ragged his apron above his head, and threw his pencil across the counter. His palm twitched in such an unexpected way. He wasn't about to hit the lot of them there and then, but the anger within the sunglasses' guy's face was obvious; perhaps he had just made them an enemy himself. The guy was about the open his mouth to probably threaten in response, when out of the window, the rest of the gang had just pulled up. They revved the engine, those ghastly noises coming from the engine...the same noise which sounded like the exhaust was about to fall off. It reminded Jack of his father's old Ford Model T which had died in the garage most days but still managed to get fixed up and then the next day it would die again. The amusement was written all across his face, as his lips twitched into a smirk.

The idiot saw the rest of them arrive, and prepared to join them, like a trainer gathering all of his puppies and they all would coming crawling back, snivelling hoping for a treat after being obedient. Who followed a master? Who could possibly have such a great ego about them?

''Oh, and for the record, I don't know that girl.'' Jack nodded his head, ''I suggest you don't come in here looking for her again. The boss ain't so happy when it comes to that sort of stuff.'' Jack's threat, he knew was empty but he hoped it would be worth passing onto the main idiot of the lot. The one who made the rest run rings about him. The one who Jack wanted to take his anger out of, but knew so much better.

The guy turned to leave as he flung his guitar over his shoulder, huffing. Jack was surprised he hadn't said another word. As the doorbell rang, the guy left and Jack eyed him out of the window, offloading his guitar into the boot of the car and then climbing into the back passenger seat before it drove off, leaving only a trail of smoke about the air.

''Hey, Jack, that guys trouble. I heard he carries that guitar because there's a gun in it.'' Cara, one of the girls sat in the forward booth started told him, her blue eyes sparkled beneath the layers of black kohl and mascara.

Jack removed his name tag and threw it on the counter, it clattered and fell to the floor on the other side but he didn't retrieve it. ''Well, I sure as hell know he wouldn't have brains to play the damn thing.''

''He goes around with the Hockley guy.''

Jack narrowed his eyes at Cara. He knew that actually interacting with her would give her the wrong idea but for some reason the need-to-know information about the group of guys niggled at him. She seemed to know them pretty well. She knew everybody's business pretty well. That was what Cara did.

''Hockley?''

''Yeah, he's the main guy. He drives the truck, smokes the most ciggies.''

Jack laughed. He was the ex. ''Hey, do you know his first name?''

''Caledon. His family moved out here a couple months ago with his fiancée. Pretty girl from what people say. She went a little crazy and broke off their engagement but rumour has it he was cheating with other girls.'' Cara blinked several times at him, her eyes playful, signalling that she had some other ulterior motive but he dismissed her immediately.

Jack smirked, gathering his wallet and adjusting the buttons on his shirt to accommodate the heat. Cara had stepped away from her two little sidekicks, as though them overhearing would be a bad thing.

''Rumour had it or you know from experience?''

Cara sipped the last of her juice from her straw. ''A girl never kisses and tells.'' She smiled, sweetly.

Jack had gotten his answer there and then. She must have been one of the girls who Hockley had been with.

''Oh, really. That how you know so much about them, huh?''

Cara's face went serious, the pout vanishing and instead a flash of something else flashed within her eyes. ''Look, seriously, they're all trouble. Caledon is just the jealous type. That is all I can really say.''

''I bet he is.'' Jack narrowed his gaze at her, certain she was half lying about something but still, what he did know about them could be used in some way. ''What do you know about the girl? The ex?''

Cara shrugged, twisting her straw about her now empty glass. ''Just that she went crazy, had a breakdown and now hasn't been seen out since. Her Mother keeps her locked away in a tower someplace and nobody knows where. She is said to be beyond embarrassed at her daughter's behaviour so she doesn't let her out. Or if she does go out, to like the library or something, Cal keeps looking for her. He must want her back.''

Jack felt his stomach twist as though someone had reached inside and meddled with his internal organs. Sure, all of this was idle gossip and chit chat but he could only wonder just how much truth was in it. One thing was sure, Rose wasn't crazy. Sure, she was a little strange to some people but when one had to hide away, or so it seemed, then it was understandable.

''He wants her back?'' Jack tried to tie the lose edges together in his brain, but it didn't seem to add up, not by half.

''Sure.'' Cara raised her eyebrows, at Jack's sudden interest in the chatter. ''Do not get involved.''

Jack raised his hands up and laughed, sensing how she was taking note of his reaction. ''Hey, you know me, I keep away from the gossips.'' He told her, jesting, ''I just don't want no trouble around here that's all.''

She smiled. ''That's nice.'' Although, she felt there was other reasons for his questions.

The doorbell rang once more, and Carlo the twenty-four-year-old Spanish dancer came in ready to start his shift.

''About time.'' Jack was flooded with relief, as Carlo muttered something in Spanish before leaving a trail of cigarette smoke about the entrance and then wafting it away quickly.

''Damn.'' Carlo found his apron. ''Sorry about the time, my friend.''

''Don't make me wait again, brother.'' Jack half threatened, smirking as they shook hands before he reached for the door.

''I promise, Dawson.''

Making his way out of the Grill for the first time since that morning, the early dusk air hit his face and awoke Jack's senses a little. With nothing to do but stare at the same few walls inside the grill, along with the stuffy air, he felt it had curled him a little mad. He looked over the street to locate where he had parked his Dodge and looked both ways as he crossed and realised that his mind was clouded with thoughts of Rose and this Caledon guy. What if what Cara said was true? Jack shook his head free of the damned thoughts, as his stomach rumbling reminded him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast but as he sat in his car, he placed both hands on the wheel and tried to clear his mind. Perhaps a cigarette would help but then he soon realised he had left his tobacco at work and he didn't intend to return for it.

''Damn.'' He cursed, banging his hands against the steering wheel. Was that her faint scent that was lingering about in his car? Winding the windows down as quickly as he could, it still didn't filter out into the air as though it was meant to remain there and torture him more than he already was.

The truth was, she was no good and neither was he. Rose would spell out trouble; there was no use for her in his life and nor him in hers. Both were better off never having been acquainted—until she had laughed, clutched onto his hand, trusted him...

She trusted him.

That meant something.

Turning the key into the ignition, Jack reasoned with himself for ever wanting to become involved. How could he be? Exhaling sharply, he put one foot onto the gas, the other tapped about like it had a mind of its own. He sped off in a cloud of smoke coming out the exhaust, and instead of following his head, he followed his heart just knowing full well of where it would lead him.

Across town, Rose listened as her mother clattered about downstairs with something before, she left the Dewitt Bukater mansion in a cab which would take her to the country clubs. She had no idea why it was called a country club but it was where Ruth Dewitt Bukater would gather on Friday and Saturday nights with her group of friends and together they would speak of the week's events, sip sherry and listen to other idle chatter, gossip and God-awful music. Her mother never missed an event for fear of missing the gossip. On the odd occasion Rose had attended, she had been paraded around in expensive dresses like some prized cattle, endlessly smiling in between sips of virgin punch and a sea of overwhelming perfumes. The other ladies were hard to speak to, and to give them even a shred of information too much and it would be all over the district before morning. Yes, those gatherings were hell on earth but to have an invite there, people would have sold their souls to the devil just to be seen there and have their heavily powdered faces on the front of the newspapers.

Tonight, Rose had feigned tiredness and retreated to her room to read. Lying to her mother was easy enough, when she used the butter soft approach and kissed her cheek, as lovingly as could be. Sprawling herself out across her wide bed, with books scattered about her, Rose found her mind was as restless as it had been for the entire duration. She wasn't alone in the house, there was the hired help; a cook, a cleaner, two maids and a butler who had left for the evening just before her mother had.

The Butler was a new hire. One she feared the Hockley's had connections with. The old man would watch her from afar, sensing how properly it was to be out and about without an aid, as though it was Edwardian times. Rose had managed to shun him several times now though, and so he would have turned up to report to the new employer; her mother and ex-fiancé, that he had lost her, or could draw conclusions of where she had gone to that day. Ruth had warned her; both as a threat and then a promise that soon, unless Rose was married to Caledon Hockley before the summer was out, then they would be stripped of the last bit of money, land and title which they had. Defying her mother had been easy at first but then the doctors had arrived; ensuring she was certified insane after the death of her father to cancer just the previous summer and insisted that marriage would be the answer to all of her questions. She would have stability, children and money for the rest of her life. Wealth. That is what everything boiled down to. The truth was her father had left some debts, which the Hockley's had quickly paid off to save the Dewitt Bukater family name in exchange for Rose's hand to Caledon. But Ruth had made out that he was interested, that he was in love with her and that marriage would be not only ensuring their survival but she would be looked after, treat like a human. Of course, that wasn't true.

Rose's balcony overlooked the main road, with several other quaint houses which sat along with her own. It was quiet, it was-meaningless. How she wished her windows could overlook the ocean, where just the evening before she was stood with a strange man; running about the pier, hand in hand and free. All day Jack had roamed about within her mind, leaving her even too consumed with thoughts of him to pursue a book. As the wind hit her face, as she leaned far across her own brick balcony to feel the way it wrapped its way about her body, a car exhaust echoed around the quiet street. It was familiar somehow-

A green Dodge pulled up, far too fast to be on a small street but somehow the erratic driving made her smile before she could even stop the way it crept up across her face and as she kept watch, the car came to a screeching halt directly across from her house. With a racing heart, Rose gawped at the driver's window and sure enough, that wild imagination wasn't playing tricks on her for once. Jack Dawson.

Quickly, her legs stumbled just inside her bedroom, to the ornate gold mirror adorning the wall adjacent the wardrobes. Within just a moment, she was flushed, alive and shaking once more. What was the trembling which ran about her body uncontrollably? The girl gazing back at her was not the one which she recognised. A pale pink summer dress, with laced sleeves fell to just below her knees. It was not the current style, not even by two or three seasons, but still it was a dress which she loved to wear for comfort. It was loose, silk and hung to her curve and yet didn't cling too much. The curls of her hair had straightened to a wave in the humidity but what did that matter when the colour of her cheeks seemed to be on fire. Pressing her hands to them, she felt how warm she was.

Jack remained in the car, not moving just sat facing forward. Returning to the balcony, the wind hit her face and suddenly it washed across her face in a way that awakened her senses. Rose watched him; after several seconds he got out of his car, checked his shirt was tucked in and pushed his hair from his eyes. Those eyes which she had found bewitched her so much. He was coming to call to her home.

Rose's stomach lurched so fast as though she was falling from the balcony down to the grass.

''Psst,'' she called from her window, hoping he would hear and that no one else would. Jack stopped mid step across the road, on the route to her front door and glanced around, ''psst'' she called once more.

Glancing upwards, Jack noticed her there hovering above her balcony. A smile crept across his face, and it relaxed her senseless.

''Go back to your car, wait for me at the corner.''

Nodding, he started back for his car.