Thank you for the reviews so far, and if anybody thinks that I'm writing out of character could they let me know? I don't own this movie – I'm waiting to get the John Hughes Pack for my birthday (still 2 months away), so I'm sat here with a transcript for referral. Just setting everything up with this chapter

December 29, 1999

San Francisco

This was unbelievable. Two months of planning. Two whole months. He figured that was a big chunk of his short life. His mom wasn't going to be back until 9, his bags were packed and he'd withdrawn all the money from the account that had been set up when he was born. It only came to $318. His whole life, 10 years and two months, he'd only managed to accumulate $318. That was meant to be his college fund but it would appear that his mom had forgotten to keep putting the money in. Figures, he thought bitterly. But the plan. It had all been carefully thought out and would have been perfectly executed.

And now, he was stuck in the kitchen of his apartment with some asshole who was apparently his father. To say that he was pissed might just be an understatement. Time was running out, it was already 7.30, and the man showed no signs of leaving. Instead he was sat on the kitchen counter, his feet resting on a stool. He'd smoked six cigarettes and helped himself to the potato chips that were left out by the cupboards.

It looked like Jack Standish was going to have to pick another night to run away.

"Oh, kid?" the man called, Jack still didn't know what to call him. Dad?No, that's not right. Too soon.

"What?" he replied with the disdainful voice he'd picked up from his mother. He wasn't too impressed with The Man Who Says He's His Father (until he knew his real name, this title would suffice). Although, he couldn't wait to see his moms face when she walked in to their small, but stylish kitchen and saw the strange looking guy with his expensive coat and scruffy combat boots. Not to mention smelling the tangy smoke that was emerging from the ornamental dish which now doubled as an ashtray.

"What time does your mom get home?" The Man tapped the edge of another cigarette. Seven, counted Jack.

"Umm…it depends. Could be eight or nine-ish." No, don't say that. He'll stay and wait. Make it later, he'll go and then I can still get out before she comes back. Change it. Make him leave.

"No, now I think about it, it'll definitely be around 11. Or midnight! Yeah midnight. Maybe even later" Jack cast his head down when he said this, hoping to look like one of those poor latch-key kids left to fend for himself. You know, get the sympathy vote. He'd done this a few times at school. He loved to confuse people, wind them up. It had never impressed his mother.Especially when it resulted in her being called in by Mrs Hughes to discuss the'welfare' of her child.And now, for the first time it backfired on him.

"I'll wait here then. Don't want to miss her" And with this, his face twisted into a sly grin. He reached in his pocket for yet another cigarette, discarding the old one.

Eight.

This guy was like nobody Jack had ever seen before. Well, there was a vague memory in the back of his head of someone similar. Maybe it's him. After all, his dad must have been around some time. And he was fairly sure that the man he remembered wasn't one of his mom's friends. They all seemed like they'd been sewn into their Armani suits at birth. He studied The Man closely. He watched him empty his coat pockets, closely. He watched as he rummaged around the findings to get a new cigarette, the current one dangling from his mouth. The contents were bizarre to say the least.

Sunglasses (In the middle of winter? What the hell?),

A lighter (well, that was to be expected),

A McDonalds Happy Meal toy, some kind of Barbie thing but with the head cut off,

A blue flyer entitled "Repent the Lord, and Welcome Satan,"

A half eaten Butterfinger

A red flyer entitled "Reject Satan, and Welcome the Lord" (schizophrenic, maybe?)

And a single diamond earring.

Okay. Jack looked at the clock above the oven. 8.00. Godammit. One hour left.

The Man looked over to him, having found the cigarettes wrapped in the blue flyer. Jack noticed that the lighter was shaped like a cigarette also. Surely that's gonna be confusing?

" Do you want a drink?" The Man Who Say's He's His Father asked. His nostrils are huge. Like really, really big. And why is he asking if I want a drink. This is my godamn apartment!

"If I want something I will get it myself." That voice of disdain was back again. But The Man didn't look annoyed, or even surprised. Jack scowled right at him, and he just smiled a small smile of recognition whilst reaching for the lighter.

Nine.

Then The Man leapt deftly off the kitchen counter. He began to walk around the apartment. As he walked, he ran his fingers over everything he passed, taking a pen lying on the table by the couch and placing it in the inside pocket of his coat. He examined photos. Not that there were many, something else his mom had forgotten to do – take photos. There weren't any of him past the age of three years old. To be fair, he wasn't particularly photogenic. He had the flaming red hair that came as standard in the Standish family, and that was his best feature. His permanent stare didn't translate well on camera. But The Man looked at everything. And then he strolled back into the kitchen. Jack followed. There was nothing else he could do.

Then it dawned on him. The note! He'd left a note in his moms room, on her bed, so that she'd know that he was fine by himself and he hadn't been kidnapped or whatever. There was no way he was going to be able to get out tonight, and so if she found that note……….he needed to get it back. He could always use it when he managed to go successfully. He ran to his mom's room, leaving the man in the kitchen. He could hear him whistling a song he didn't recognise.

He opened the door and looked at the open suitcase by the side of the bed. He hadn't noticed it earlier and now he wondered what it was for. He thought his mom had said something about going to Shermer to spend New Years with his grandparents. Why that was, nobody knew. Shermer was the most boring place on earth compared to San Francisco, and every time they went, which wasn't very often, but still, all that happened was that his grandparents argued with his mom. At least Uncle Kyle would be there. But this was the new millennium! As a ten year old, he wasn't a big partier but even he could see that it was definitely not promising to be the big event that it should be.

He was still vaguely aware of the man in the kitchen. The whistling had now moved on to another song altogether. He actually recognised this one. It was by Simple Minds. He saw the letter and was picking it up, when…

The front door slammed shut. Was it The Man? Was he going? They'd not even talked properly. That was his dad (alright, I'll admit it now. That was my dad. That was my real dad and I've just ignored him). Jack ran into the kitchen, the letter slipping from his hand……..

But the man was sat on the counter again, handling the cigarette he'd set up earlier. So that meant…

A voice from the sitting room and the familiarsound of heels clicking across the floor."Jack? You there? Oh my god, what is that…are you smoking? I can smell tobacco Jack. You're 10 years old and you're smoking. I don't believe this."

And the kitchen door opened, revealing his mother. She was back exactly on time. And she was just standing there, staring at The Man Who Was Definitely His Dad. The expression on her face wasn't readable. She turned her face down, colouring. For a moment, Jack genuinely felt sorry for her. You always had a hard time disguising your feelings if you were a redhead.

"John, get the hell out" was all she said, quietly.

But it was all that was needed to give Jack his plan.

The Man (John, thats his name)just lifted up the cigarette to his mouth, taking everything in.

"Hey, Princess." A little smoke escaped from his mouth.

Ten

To be continued…

Okay, thank you for reading!