July 27th, 1984
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"Are we talking about the Teri? Your wife, Teri?" Audrey's voice broke through his memories, a hint of disbelief lacing her words. She had been following his story, but now something stirred inside her, a quiet curiosity. Were his casual words really about the one? Or just about another somebody he had met, incidentally carrying the same name.
"Yes," he answered, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.
Audrey was surprised. There had been no grand declaration, no pause to acknowledge the weight of it—no "this is how I met the great love of my life." Just the same steady recounting of events. Maybe, she thought, it was a defense mechanism. A way of distancing himself from the pain of remembering hat Teri was no longer around. Maybe the only way he could share these parts of his life was by locking away the emotions, telling the story as though it belonged to someone else.
"You still haven't told me about how you broke up with Marilyn," she prodded gently, steering the conversation to another figure from his past. She had the feeling that even the stories about the breakup with Marilyn would affect him less than the stories about meeting Teri.
"Wasn't there yet," he muttered. His voice was clipped, as if he were mentally keeping track of the timeline. He hadn't gotten to that chapter. Teri had entered his life before Marilyn had even exited it.
Audrey tilted her head, considering everything he'd told her so far. He was the son and heir to an oil drilling company, which, judging by the number of workers he had mentioned, wasn't exactly small. He was also into motorcycle racing and aviation. The image of Teri, the Greenpeace protester, handing him an anti-fracking flyer was the starkest contrast Audrey could imagine. "After all you said... I can't picture you with Lady Greenpeace, sorry." She couldn't help the lightness in her voice, an attempt to break the tension with a little humor.
"Lady Greenpeace has a name." His response came swiftly, a subtle edge creeping into his voice. He didn't raise it, but there was something firm and unyielding in the way he said it. Audrey felt it. He wasn't going to let Teri be reduced to some offhand nickname. She had been more than just a protester. More than a face in a crowd. She had been his anchor—the woman who had given him a daughter. No matter how much time had passed, or how much distance he put between himself and those memories, Teri was not to be diminished.
Audrey caught the protective note that lingered behind his words. Even after all these years, long after Teri was gone, he still guarded her memory fiercely. It was true, his way of recalling these events was factual, almost robotic at times, but in these rare moments she could tell that his feelings were anything but detached. Especially when it came to Teri. He seemed to remember every detail, every moment of their first meeting with striking clarity, every word they had said. It wasn't like when he had mentioned Marilyn—an afterthought, a passing reference. Teri took up space in his mind, whether he admitted it or not.
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1984
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Teri stood rooted in place, her eyes fixed on the spot where the bike had vanished, the distant sound of its engine still played in her ears, though it was long gone. She had watched as it sped down the road, at the next crossroads, it turned right and disappeared from view.
Jack.
Jack who? She realized with a strange pang that she didn't even know his last name. She hadn't asked. She hadn't thought to take down his license plate either, well, she wasn't an LAPD detective. Nor had she asked where he lived or whether he planned to return. Probably not, she guessed. He'd said he was done working for the company – the Bauer Oil Exploration & Drilling Co. – one of the enemies they were so fiercely protesting against, so there was no real reason for him to come back. Not to her world.
Just half an hour ago, he'd still been the asshole in her mind—the one who'd blazed past their protest line, kicking up clouds of dirt and gravel in his wake, leaving them covered in dust. The same guy whose reckless driving had nearly clipped Randy, forcing him to leap out of the way and sprain his ankle. And yet now, after that brief, charged encounter, he was something entirely else. A sudden, unexpected hero to the group of idealistic protesters who only moments ago had been seething at him.
It was almost absurd. They'd been standing there for days, holding their signs, voicing their quiet opposition to the oil companies, but Jack—Jack—had walked right in and escalated their silent protest to something far more audacious. He'd taken the very shield she'd been holding and carried it straight into the executive offices, planting it in the heart of the corporate beast. It was something none of them would have ever dared to do. They talked about change, but in truth, they were afraid. Pacifists, all of them. That was the word they clung to because it sounded nicer than calling anyone a coward. Jack, however, clearly didn't seem to be bound by the same hesitations.
She stood there for what felt like forever, staring after the space where she had last seen him. A mix of emotions churned in her chest, unfamiliar and confusing. She didn't know what to call the feeling swelling inside her. It was strange. She had never felt like this before—especially not for a guy whose first words to her had been a smug, almost dismissive, "Runs on oil," in reference to his motorcycle.
The crossroads where he had disappeared loomed in the distance, and for reasons she couldn't explain, she felt a hollow emptiness in her stomach. As if something important had left with him. And though she hardly knew him, though their encounter had been so brief, she already found herself missing him.
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Audrey shook her head in disbelief. "I can't imagine you picking up a girl protesting against fracking by saying 'runs on oil'." The sheer absurdity of it had her grinning. It was such a far cry from any conventional pick-up line that it lodged itself in her mind, impossible to ignore.
"I didn't want to pick her up," Jack defended himself, his voice flat but firm. "I wanted her to leave me alone." He paused, reflecting for a moment. In the past 25 years, he had learned at least one universal truth: the harder you push someone away, the more they seem to fall for you. Later, he had used that trick more than once in his career, especially when a CIA mission required him to make contact with someone. It was ironic, almost laughable, how effective that tactic could be—but regarding Teri, it had really not been a pick-up. He had really wanted her to leave him alone that day.
"Still doesn't make sense to me," Audrey replied, her skepticism unwavering.
Jack realized, with a slight smirk, that she clearly didn't believe she'd fall for such a ploy. She had probably never responded to that kind of reverse psychology in her entire life. For a fleeting moment, his mind wandered back to the night they had slept together. What had made her say yes? He didn't remember, and the details of that night were lost in a haze of drug-induced fog. It was all a blur—he couldn't even recall what 'pick-up line' he might have used, if any, that had brought her into his room, and eventually, into his bed. If there even had been one. Who had even made the first move.
Jack pushed the memory aside. It was a useless distraction. That night with Audrey had been a one-time thing, nothing more. She was two thousand miles away, and realistically, he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again. Probably not. It was the safest assumption, given their circumstances. It was safer to dwell in memories of Teri, though in the long run, they'd only make him sad.
And yet... he couldn't deny how much he enjoyed talking to her. Every minute of their conversations was a quiet refuge, something that felt so good he couldn't put it into words even if he had to. He had to be careful. He couldn't let himself get too attached. He reminded himself of the cold, hard reality—she'd be gone soon. Every phone call could be the last one. In fact, tomorrow evening there wouldn't be a phone call because Audrey had already told him she'd be attending some charity event with her still-husband, Paul. The thought sent an unwelcome shiver through him. The idea of her with Paul was unsettling, even if Jack refused to admit why.
He glanced at his wristwatch. They had been talking for hours. Again. It was already nine in the evening on his end, which made it midnight for Audrey.
"Shouldn't we go to bed soon?" he asked, his tone light, though he was genuinely concerned about how late it was for her.
For the first time in hours, Audrey glanced at her alarm clock, blinking at the time as if seeing it for the first time. "No," she said, stretching out the word as if banishing the notion entirely. She had already laid down a while ago, and though her body was tired, she wasn't ready to end the call. "Tomorrow's Saturday. I can sleep in."
Jack chuckled softly. "You're gonna fall asleep again in the middle of the conversation," he teased, reminding her of the previous night when she had dozed off mid-sentence.
She laughed, the sound warm and carefree, even in the late hour. "Not before you finally tell me why you broke up with Marilyn," she replied, her voice turning playful but tinged with curiosity. It was the question she had been circling around for a while now. And got together with Teri, she added silently.
Audrey waited, half-expecting him to dodge the question, to say something like 'tomorrow'. But he started talking.
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Jack rode back to Ron's house, the hum of his bike doing little to quiet the storm brewing in his mind. Focus, he told himself, forcing the image of that girl, Teri, out of his thoughts. Her sign, saying "hydraulic fracturing kills". There was no time to dwell on her, no matter how much the impressions of the past ten minutes lingered. He had a far more pressing matter to deal with—Ron. He wanted to tell him the truth, give him a heads up on Philip's plans, because Jack wanted to save at least Ron and his family from the inevitable grip of Philip Bauer. But part of Jack feared it might already be too late.
His mind again flashed back to that moment when he'd jammed the "Hydraulic Fracturing Kills" sign into the pot in the executive hallway. He hadn't felt that alive in years, the rush of rebellion coursing through him in a way he hadn't experienced in far too long. It wasn't his usual style—he wasn't one for symbolic gestures. Still, the act had meant something, even if in the deepest part of himself, he knew it wouldn't change a thing. It was just a sign, after all. No power behind it. No real leverage. Just like the protesters cheering outside when he'd emerged, hailing him as some kind of hero. It was ridiculous. Didn't they see? They weren't changing anything with their signs and chants.
Jack's form of protest had always been different—darker, more direct. When he made a move, it was swift and undeniable. He didn't aim for applause. He aimed for results.
Focus. Ron. Jack forced his thoughts back to the task at hand. The protest was unimportant. It didn't matter. Ron was what mattered now. If he told Ron everything—what Philip had already done, what he was planning—maybe, just maybe, it could make a difference. Jack knew what it meant. Telling Ron would forever close the door back to his father. He had spent years guarding those company secrets, secrets he was now ready to give up for what he believed was the greater good. Part of him also worried about Marilyn, because she was inevitably attached to Ron's fate.
When Sharon let him into the house, she could already sense something was wrong. Jack was tense, his movements brisk as he headed straight for Ron's office, brushing off Marilyn's attempts to talk to him with a curt "Later." He didn't have time for her now.
Inside the office, Ron stood up from behind his desk, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Jack. He noticed the leather jacket still zipped up, the look of a man who wasn't planning to stay long.
"Have a seat, Jack," Ron said, gesturing to the visitor chair in front of his desk.
But Jack didn't feel like sitting. The adrenaline still had him pacing, his mind buzzing. "Ron, this is about your company," Jack said, stopping by the window, his tone serious. "We need to talk. It's important."
Ron, sensing the weight of Jack's words, stepped away from his desk and moved closer. "Go ahead." A bad feeling began to creep up his spine.
"My father claims to have bought a significant number of shares," Jack started.
Ron laughed dismissively, waving the idea away. "No, Jack. None, actually."
"Really? What about GCD?" Jack asked, his voice sharpening.
"They hold 18%. They've always held that much from the beginning. Never changed," Ron replied, pride tinging his voice.
Jack didn't waver. "And who owns GCD?"
Ron hesitated, the confidence in his voice faltering. GCD had been early investors, he knew that much, but the details had grown hazy over the years. It had been two decades since he last thought about them. But the way Jack pressed the issue made him uneasy. "I don't believe you," Ron said, his suspicions rising. "Is this one of Philip's games?"
Jack didn't flinch. "Two other companies have invested lately. Supposedly related to GCD."
The color drained from Ron's face. Jack wasn't speculating—he was dealing in facts, insider information. Only someone who'd been part of the deals would know this. "What does he want?" Ron's voice turned cold, barely masking his fear.
"He'll force you into hydraulic fracturing."
"Over my dead body," Ron spat.
"Or your dead business," Jack countered. The words were a hammer blow, and they landed exactly where he knew they would. They both didn't need that many words to know that Ron's company depended on Philip's and vice versa. But holding 48% of the shares, Ron's company couldn't make any decisions against Philip's needs. It meant Ron's business depended on Philip's – entirely, not vice versa. Ron staggered slightly, clutching his chest, struggling for breath. Jack's concern spiked—Ron wasn't young anymore, and the weight of this revelation was clearly crushing him. It wasn't just the threat of Philip's move into fracking; it was the realization that Philip already controlled enough shares to dismantle everything Ron had built.
Ron gripped the edge of his desk, his anger bubbling up, unable to lash out at Philip, the real threat. Instead, it turned on Jack. "What role do you play in all this?" he hissed, the accusation sharp, like a knife aimed at someone wo carried the last name 'Bauer'.
"I quit."
"You can't quit on family," Ron scoffed, the words laced with bitterness.
"Trust me, I can. And I did."
Ron's expression twisted with disbelief. "So, you're here to ask me for a job?" The way he emphasized "me" made it clear that whatever offer there once was, it no longer stood. It was off the table the moment Jack revealed the truth. Not that Jack had ever really wanted the job, but the sting of Ron now seeing him as an enemy rather than an ally still cut deep.
Jack's jaw tightened. "I don't want to work for a company controlled 100% by my father, and I won't work for one where he owns 48%." He knew the words would land hard, but Ron had already thrown his own punches. If Ron saw him as nothing more than a Bauer, then so be it.
"I'm leaving," Jack added, his tone final.
"You'd better," Ron shot back, his voice brimming with fury.
Jack turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. He knew there was no going back now—not to Ron, not to Philip. The doors had all closed, and this one especially.
He made his way to Marilyn's room, where his bag still sat, packed and ready. As he pushed open the door, her face lit up with a hopeful smile, expecting him to join her in bed, as he had the past two nights. But that smile faded instantly when she saw his expression, his jacket still on, his hand reaching for the bag.
His voice was cold, emotionless, as he spoke. "This has nothing to do with you, Marilyn. But I'm not coming back." He hoped the words would be enough, would explain everything.
For a moment, he held her gaze, saw the shock and confusion in her eyes. She was speechless, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all.
But he didn't have time to linger. He didn't want to face Ron's anger or try to offer Marilyn an explanation that wouldn't make a difference. He turned and started walking out.
Behind him, Marilyn rushed forward, her voice rising in a panicked cry. "Why?"
"I'm leaving. Forever." Jack's voice was flat, his words final as he pulled his arm out of her grasp and continued walking, leaving her standing there, crying, helpless to stop him.
Sharon Williams stood in the hallway as Jack approached the door, her intuition telling her something significant had just happened, though she couldn't quite piece it together. She watched him walk past, her eyes full of concern. Jack paused for a moment, out of respect. "Thank you. For everything," he said, a quiet acknowledgment of her kindness, the way she had always welcomed him into this house.
But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't be coming back.
Outside, his bike was already positioned toward the street, just as he had left it. The keys were in the ignition, his helmet ready to go. In one swift movement, he mounted, revved the engine, and rode away without a backward glance.
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"You were a real asshole to her." The words slipped from Audrey's mouth before she could stop herself, but she couldn't hold them back. It was impossible not to feel for the 17-year-old Marilyn, blindsided by Jack's sudden, unexplained exit. The way he had walked into her room and ended things without a hint of warning—it felt cruel, even if Jack hadn't intended it that way. From the little things he had mentioned, she could picture that Marilyn must have felt a lot for Jack, probably more than she had ever meant to him.
"I had no other choice," Jack replied, his tone calm but resolute, as though the decision had been out of his hands.
"Really?" Audrey wasn't convinced. She began to weigh the situation in her mind. "I was raised to believe that if you really love someone, there's always a choice."
"Sometimes the choice to leave is the better one. Especially if you love someone.," Jack said, his voice firm but not unkind. Audrey's belief clashed with the hard lessons life had taught him, but for Jack, it was the truth.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I wanted the best for her. I wanted Ron to find a way to save his freedom."
"Did that work out for him?" Audrey asked, her voice probing, not letting him off the hook.
Jack took a deep breath, his pause heavy with uncertainty. "I think not. I didn't meet him ever again." He didn't want to go into details now, but of course he had heard over the years, how Ron's company had progressed.
Audrey wasn't surprised by his response. She suspected as much. "Or did you just fear that being with the Williams family would wreck your plan to get away from your father?" Her words were sharp, cutting through his defenses. To her, it seemed like Marilyn had been nothing more than a pawn in a much larger game—a game that had been orchestrated long before either of them had a say. The deals made between their families had always held more sway than Jack or Marilyn's personal choices.
"I could have lied," Jack said, his voice hardening as he tried to make Audrey see the bigger picture. "I could have kept everything from Ron. Lied about the fracking. Lied about the hostile takeover." He paused, the bitterness rising in his throat. "Would that have been better? One day, he would have found out I'd known, and I'd been keeping things from him the whole time. Or worse, my father could have used that as a leverage against me." His disgust for Philip Bauer was palpable, each word laced with venom. Jack knew he had been a pawn in his father's game, but this time, the pawn had chosen to walk off the board.
"There was no way out."
Now lying on his bed, Jack stared at the ceiling, that day's events still weighing on him. It had been some of the most important decisions he had ever made in his life. It would have turned out totally different, if he hadn't walked away from the family business. Thinking back, after 25 years, he still couldn't shake the sting of how quickly Ron had turned on him. Maybe, in the long run, it was for the best. What if Ron had offered him a job that night? Would he have taken it? The thought gnawed at him. No, Jack shook his head. If he'd stayed, he would've ended up working for a company where his father owned 48%. That was just the same fate under a new name. It might have worked out for a year or two, but no longer.
Audrey, lost in her own thoughts, tried to imagine herself in Marilyn's position. She could picture what it must have been like for Marilyn—the shock, the pain. She thought about all the women who'd been blindsided by breakups, dropped without explanation. "There's no way to make a breakup less painful," she remarked quietly.
"No," Jack agreed. "It is what it is." For a moment, he wondered if he should have been more honest with Marilyn back then. Maybe he should have explained his reasons, told her the truth behind his actions. But she had been so young, so unaware of the complexities of their family's businesses. Hearing that her father had lost control, that his freedom was slipping away, would have devastated her. She would have hated him, too—the only Bauer within reach—for causing it all.
Maybe, Jack mused, if he had told her everything, Marilyn would have made different choices later in life. But he kept that thought to himself, unsure whether to share it with Audrey, because it would lead to a lot more new questions.
He was just about to call it a night, ready to suggest that they both get some sleep, when Audrey's voice broke through his thoughts. "And when did you meet Teri again?"
The question brought an unexpected warmth rushing over him. That simple inquiry, so soft and straightforward, triggered a cascade of memories that filled him with a strange sense of comfort. It pulled him back to that moment—the moment he'd met Teri again. It was like a wave of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. Jack hadn't revisited those early memories in years, not like this. When he thought of Teri, it was usually the years they'd shared with Kim—the big, pivotal moments of their life together. But this? This was something different.
His mind drifted to 1984, a time he had long since pushed to the back of his consciousness. That period wasn't just tied to Teri; it was tangled with memories of the company, his father, the tough decisions that had made back then. It wasn't a time he liked to revisit. But now, with Audrey asking, it felt right. It felt good to remember the early days with Teri, to focus on the parts that brought him peace.
Jack took a deep breath, centering himself. He planned to tell Audrey the good parts. The parts that mattered.