Chapter six:

The next morning's breakfast table was alive with her mother's chatter. On and on she went about the country club; how it had turned out to be a ghastly affair, how tragic the dresses on the younger generation were these days...after that, Rose had tuned out, much like a wireless that faded off after looping the same song all day. Another sip of her coffee, a bite of her toast and a simple nod ensured her mother that Rose was indeed engaged and listening, but she wasn't. After arriving home, just before her mother had the early hours before, Rose had quickly taken a bath and ensured that her dress was laundered within the servants' quarters to avoid any question of how sand had appeared in the main hallway. It was with such flushed cheeks and a sly smirk, that Rose had crept into the house, into her rrgular life but had taken a sense of freedom with her and that had kept eher mind absent all morning.

Jack had driven her to the end of the road, walked her to the door of the maid's kitchen before pressing his lips to her cheek, once and seeing her inside. Wearing the shawl, she had kept it with her all night in bed; his scent was woven into the fabrics and now into her as well, somehow-

''Rose?''

Ruth's shrill voice was like a blade straight through her head and she widened her eyes. Her mother had caught her absent mind. Even at such an early hour, Ruth was as sharp as a tack especially where her daughter was concerned. It was a gift really, an unneeded one.

''Yes, mother?''

''Good Gracious! Where is your head this morning?''

Rose took another sip of her coffee. ''I apologise. I haven't felt too well as of late.'' Lying to her mother had grown to be something of a gift of hers. It wasn't as though she wanted to, it was the small issue that her mother never liked the truth; the more brutal it was, the less it was accepted. ''I felt unwell during the night. The heat seems to be a little much and so I failed to rest thoroughly.''

Ruth placed her teacup onto her saucer, before putting it on the lavish breakfast table. Her sharp blue eyes inspected Rose, as though she was a doctor herself.

''You look tired. Awfully limp hair...'' Rose was about to roll her eyes in a response until Ruth raised her chin. ''Perhaps I should fetch the Hockley's physician.''

Yes, the usual response to any sort of weakness which Rose seemed to have, or just if a curl was out of place. ''No, that is not necessary. Any person near to the Hockley's are not welcome to me.'' Rose was solid in her defiance. The same ''doctor'' had deemed her to be experiencing some form of insanity simply because she had ended her engagement with the esteemed Caledon Hockley.

''Oh, Rose.'' Ruth threw her napkin atop the breakfast table, and straightened her back. ''How many more times will we see to this? Caledon is a fantastic match for you.'' Ruth was not a dim woman by any means but there was something about her which seemed off. The fact that she didn't seem to understand the words her daughter spoke, or simply dismissed them as 'tosh'. Rose had been firm about ending her engagement and she had also spoken truthfully of her reasons why.

''No, mother. Abuse is not tolerated. I refuse to marry such a man.''

''Oh tosh, abuse. Rose, you have always been a daydreamer. Your head is in the clouds, girl. Do you realise just how much you have put the poor man through already and yet he still is interested in proceeding?''

Rose put her coffee cup calmly on the table. This conversation had been had too many times. Yet, her mother didn't understand. ''No, he wants me to stay in this house. He wants to watch over me all the damned time,'' Rose stood from the table, ''I know he watches me when I go out, just to the park, the library or for a walk...and I will have it no more, mother. I am free to do as I please.''

''Rose, when I was your age, finishing school taught me all there was to know about refinement of the mind, curbing the tongue and teaching young women how to dismiss all-'' Ruth paused, and Rose sensed the disgust which was about to come, ''urges one may have.''

''And what urges would they be, mother?''

Goading Ruth was never a clever idea, but the discomfort was amusing. Shying away from these types of conversation was always how Ruth handled such a situation.

''I wasn't raised to be unaware of handsome men. Your father wasn't the most attractive, thank Heavens your features are much more angelic than his.'' Ruth paused, examining Rose's delicate face. ''You are a treasure, you could have your choice in a man yet, the most dashing answered our call for help. A man not just with funds, but with power as well. A man like he can take you any place you wish to go.''

''I do not wish to be with him, mother. That is final.''

''There are very limited other options. We live in a town full of—working class.''

''What if we do?''

''One could never associate with those kinds, Rose. You are a member of a prominent family. Elite. We could never be-''

''Oh, stop it mother, you'll give yourself another nosebleed.''

''Why are you being so selfish?''

Rose pushed her chair away from the dining table. The morning was too much for her. ''I am not the selfish one.'' Taking shaky breaths, she stood, to assert her determination. ''I will marry for love, and that alone. I am not a bargain to offer to any man who will take me in exchange for money, least of all to the Hockley's. Exchanging one's child for money would make me nothing more than a common prostitute and you the madam.''

Before Ruth could even respond, Rose started for the door shaking with such adrenaline that she ceased to hear her mother's calls after her. In seventeen years, she had never left the table without asking to be excused, and now she had stormed out. Her feet moved with a newfound determination; passing the astonished maid she went to the foyer, then out of the main entrance and down the wide, smooth steps out onto the pavement and then off into the road without even stopping to retrieve her hat, her bag or pins for her hair. The pale blue dress which she wore swished about her legs, as she went, twisting until she straight it with her hands and then continued on; it was as though it was a reminder for her to not leave, to stay within the grasps of something whether that be her mother or Cal. Or society. Why must there be so many barriers within her life?

Within five or so minutes, the Hockley's would no doubt be out watching her, ensuring that she was under surveillance at all times because the butler would have seen her leave and telephoned them immediately. Even after the engagement, Cal kept his eyes on her. Was he still so adamant on her becoming his bride, or perhaps it was just the thrill of him knowing the power that he had over her still, even now? Although spending time, away from her home with Jack Dawson had eliminated some of that power and now, it was fully vested within herself once more. That power was addictive, much like it was to be with Jack; to sit with him, to observe him smoke a rolled-up cigarette and toss the hair from his eyes with such a sexy ease that her toes curled right up and her stomach crunched. He had kissed her though; his lips so soft upon hers that she had almost been knocked over by a gust of wind. Beneath the warm sun, Rose felt her cheeks simmer with thoughts of him and how his hands had rested upon her waist and held her there for some time. Her mother was right in one regard, it was hard to be immune to a man that beautiful. It wasn't just his attitude, how he handled her and actually listened, it was how he was watchful and yet not like she was his pray. It was admiration, she was sure. Or perhaps the sun had been too much for her to handle the previous day.

It was then, she realised just where she was heading...

Working until mid-afternoon on a Saturday afternoon was never interesting. Especially with the heat. But Jack was sat behind a menu, his eyes lurking on the one person he had yet to come face to face with - Caledon Hockley. Even indoors he wore his trusted shades. Jack served customers, keeping his eyes firmly on the group as they sat with Cara and her girlfriend, the giggly one; Samantha, he thought her name was. They were all the same thouugh; cut from the same cloth, learning the same lessons and wearing the same fashions which made them all dissolve into one person when stood in a crowd together. Much like the crowd of Hockley's...

Jack kept chewing the inside of his mouth. His mind was so focused on Rose, of her kiss and the fun time they had at the beach the night before. He didn't know when he would see her again but he knew that they would need to be careful. He would go anywhere for her, to keep her safe and out of sight. There had to be more to the story than just the rumours and perhaps his job there at the grill was a great place to start digging out the dirt. If he could find shrapnels of evidence at all, he would keep it within his grasp to pull out at a later date.

Cara kept her bright red manicured fingers on the knee of Caledon Hockley, sliding it up and down every now and again. Jack grinned weariedly beneath the menu, keeping his thoughts as clean as possible. After a sigh, he exhaled deeply. Would it be unprofessional to throw the slime out? The others just sat around Hockley like lurchers, or groupies, it was as though he was Elvis and they were his band. The cling on's. Jack smirked; his lips lopsided at his own putrid thoughts of what he would like to do to each and every one of them.

''Hey, you got a problem?''

One of them called out, he sat at the end, with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

Jack turned his lip over and shook his head after taking a second to note he was been spoken to.

''No, I can't say I have.''

One of them elbowed Cal, breaking his concentration and flirtation with Cara. Stubbing out a freshly lit cigarette in annoyance, he was whispered to, before his head came up to Jack's direction. Stepping back to the fridges, Jack opened the door and allowed the coolness to freshen his face. Out of his peripheral, he clocked Cal stand and approach the counter with his casual walk.

Jack came forward, resting his hands casually upon the wooden desk before him, without taking out his note pad and pen.

''What can I get you?''

''My friend seems to think you got a problem.'' The first words spoken by the legendary Caledon Hockley. Jack wanted to laugh, right there in his face, but he remained calm for a second. Through the black shades, his eyes could barely be seen. God, the urge to punch his handsome face was causing his body to shake but as he thought of Rose, his cool apprasal returned.

Jack raised his eyebrows. ''Me? Sure. I got plenty.''

''Well?'' Caledon raised a far too perfect black brow in query.

''Well, for starters, I am too damned hot, it must be 100 degrees in here, right?'' He pointed to Hockley's leather jacket, ''but I guess you don't feel the heat. Second, I am tired-''

Hockley put his right hand up for Jack to cease. ''Do I look amused?''

Jack smirked and glanced at the other guys. ''Um, well, sir. I can't see if you do or if you don't. I don't catch many rays inside.''

Hockley sighed as he thinned his lips and removed his sunglasses slowly, revealing a face which looked a lot older than Jack had initially thought. He must have been thirty. Jack scanned his face, taking in each detail; looked at his knuckles, how two were split open and he wondered just who he had been fighting. Jack then took in the detail of his eyes; they were almost black, as though he wanted authority but for some reason, Jack wasn't buying any of it. He almost wanted to laugh in his face. This was Hockley. This was the man who Rose DeWitt Bukater had ended her engagement to. It was like gaining clarity for the first time as he seemed to see it through her naïve eyes.

''I see too many wise ass punks who work in these greasy dives every day. They're all mouth. You don't get smart with me.''

Jack narrowed his eyes; anger filled him. It wasn't a new thing but it was more than expected for the man had done very little wrong to him. Jack had plenty of ammunition to fire at him but he chose not to, knowing it would reveal just a shred about Rose. She was the reason for his anger. She seemed to be the centre of many things lately.

''I know your type, too.'' Jack lowered his voice, but he pinned Hockley beneath an icy gaze. ''You think you can beat up some poor girl, that makes you a hard guy? I don't think so.'' Jack removed his apron and threw it on the counter. ''I work here, sure, but least I got my own money in my pocket not living off Daddy and bumping off guys just to make a living. My name is clear.''

Hockley stared at him deeply. A nerve had been touched. Jack waited for a response, but he quickly turned ensuring that his little gang hadn't heard. Jack smirked; nail hit right on the head.

''Speaking to me in that way will not bode well for you.'' Hockley threatened, replacing the sunglasses upon his eyes. ''I'll-''

''You'll what?'' Jack interrupted, his voice louder. ''You going to split another knuckle trying to bump me off too? No. See, I know you. I know a million guys like you and you're all the same. You think you're everything when beneath the damned shades, the leather jackets and hideous jacked up car you're-''

Before he could finish, Hockley moved quickly, lunging forward across the counter to grab Jack by the lapels upon his shirt, but Jack jumped back using his instinct to know just how much he had provoked him. Hockley was spawled across the counter, his sunglasses sent flying across the wood and Jack could only fold his arms across his chest. Within a second, his groupies had come to his aid; retrieving his sunglasses, tidying the way his jacket sat upon his shoulders and Hockley ran a shaking hand through his jelled hair.

''What happened, boss?''

''Did he go at you?''

Hockley gritted those teeth, and Jack knew the reason why. He could never admit that he had missed his target. He could never be a failure to them. He was the ringleader. It was embarrassing enough, already.

''Stop fussing, godmanit!'' Hockley burst, dismissing the fussing fools like naughty children.

It was as though, wordlessly, they had an agreement; for now. Jack would remain quiet and escape unscathed although it was not to be the end of it. Walking around the side of the counter, Jack went past Cara, without even a word and started for the door. His shift wasn't even over for another hour, but that afternoon had been far too long. Perhaps seeking new employment was necessary.

''I don't think you're leaving now.'' The one known as Ethan, stepped out from the booth and held his guitar in his left hand. He was like his brother, perhaps taller and thinner with a lot less respect going for him.

Jack smiled, shaking his head. ''What you going to do? Shoot me with the guitar?''

With a ring of the doorbell, he was gone. Hockley was speaking as he made his way out, but it was unheard and uncared for.

The salty sea air engulfed Jack as he rubbed his face with his hands in an attempt to wake himself up. He removed his white work shirt revealing a white tank top underneath and he threw it over his shoulder, feeling the breeze across his exposed arms and shoulders. As he reached his car, he threw the worn shirt through the window into the back, stuffing it in before taking a quick glance back to the Grill. That afternoon and meeting with Hockley had ensured that he had ruffled more than a few feathers. Laughing with such amusement, he exhaled and gazed about with a hazy head. Damn, he needed to be careful, if only for Rose's sake. Those guys were feared all across town, by God knows how many people. It was wondrous how money seemed to come with a power; and folk were afraid of it.

Jack whistled a familiar tune, tossing the keys to his car about as he approached the driver's side when he almost tripped over someone sat on the sidewalk, crouched beside his car in a bundle of pale blue skirts-

''Rose!'' She had startled him. And he had her. ''What are you-?'' He glanced up to make sure that Hockley hadn't seen her from inside the Grill. ''Shit, you scared me.''

Jack was about to use his hand to help her up, when he saw the softness of her eyes.

''I was coming to you,'' she whispered, ''then I saw the car outside over there, I was stuck.''

Jack nodded, as he opened the door to the driver's side. ''Get in, climb over the passenger side and make sure to keep your head down!''

''All right,'' Rose scrambled inside, across the seat and taking care of raising her head. Jack reached into the back window, pulling out his worn shirt and he placed it over her hair in a sort of fashion.

''Is that all right?''

Rose nodded, the scent of the shirt washing over her and she arranged it into some sort of headscarf for a moment. He started the car quickly and they sped off in an unknown direction. As soon as they had passed the Grill, Rose removed the shirt from her hair and shook out her waves to return to their natural state. The breeze through the open windows was a refreshing welcome.

''Rose!'' Jack started but then noticed how she had curled her fists into his shirt. ''That was risky.''

''I know.'' She said softly, glancing at her joined hands. ''I just had to see you.''