Chapter 2

Second Hand Emotion

7 years later

"Jack! We're gonna fall!" she laughed as he leaned in heavily and whispered something into her ear. They staggered down the hallway toward his apartment. It would've taken far less time if he hadn't insisted on caressing and kissing and blowing into her ear the entire way there, not to mention the already clumsy Jack was also very, very drunk. She managed to steady the both of them before a glossy white door. "Is this one yours?"

"I think so," he pulled away from her long enough to speak.

"Give me your keys."

He patted his trousers and came up empty handed. "Uh oh."

"Let me help you out," she teased and patted his thighs. She got dangerously close to his groin before she stopped and smiled. "Are those your keys or are you just happy to see me?"

"The second one," he said into her neck in between kisses.

"Both," she giggled, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Since Jack was a little too inebriated to get them properly into the lock, she offered for him and opened the door to a swanky apartment that was most certainly a step up from his old place above the bistro.

"Ta da!" he pulled her inside. "Welcome to my home," he slurred.

"Oh, it's lovely, Jack! You should've brought me here sooner," she said, nudging him.

"I tried," he grinned as he pulled her toward the bedroom. A California king covered in silk burgundy sheets awaited them. It was a large bedroom with high ceilings and windows overlooking the city below.

She scoffed through a smile. "Well, it's hard to tell with you. You're always so serious. Before the office Christmas party tonight, I have never seen you let loose."

Jack unbuttoned her shirt in one quick motion, but with a force that nearly caused him to stumble forward. "How's that for loose?" He slurred and did a dance, both fingers pointing up and down Saturday Night Fever style.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, "Now you're talking my language."

Their lips were all over one another as they backed toward the bed, but neither one of them had a whole lot of stamina at the moment, which meant they fell onto it in less a graceful, sensual manner and more of a panicked freefall. Jack banged his head on the backboard and her arm flung back from the force and knocked the items on his side table to the floor.

"OW!"

"Are you okay?" she asked as she attempted to grab the items she'd knocked over.

Jack sucked in air through his teeth and pressed his hand to the back of his skull. "Is it possible to bang your heard so hard it knocks you sober?"

She winced. Well, if that were the case, her night of fun was over. In the two years Michelle had worked with Jack at the studio, he never exactly struck her as someone who had time to enjoy anything outside of work. She reached out and felt for a bump on his head.

"Is it bleeding?" he jerked away dramatically.

She didn't feel anything. "You're fine."

"I feel dizzy."

"You're fine."

Michelle rolled her eyes as she continued to pick up his things. Her hands ran over some loose change, his alarm clock, and a crisp copy of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People that had clearly never been touched before landing on a framed picture. A slightly younger Jack stared back at her, his arm around a pretty brunette. Other people were in the picture off to the side, but the flaps were folded over so that only the two of them were visible.

"Hey, who's this?" To her knowledge he wasn't married. She hoped he wasn't married. She didn't even think he'd seriously dated anyone since Vicky what's her face walked out.

"Give me that!" he pulled it away from her in one swift motion.

Michelle pulled it back with a mischievous glimmer in her eye. "She's pretty."

"Give th –" Jack reached out for the picture again, but she raised it over his head. He was still drunk enough to struggle a bit.

"You look so different."

Jack relented with a sigh. "It was almost ten years ago."

"No, I mean, like, your eyes. You look happier," she looked over at him as if to confirm her observation.

"Yeah, well," he grabbed it back again. "That was lifetime ago. I'm a completely different person now."

"So who is she, then? I've never seen you around with her before, but she's clearly important enough that you have a picture of her on your nightstand."

"If I'd have known you were this nosy I'd have never brought you home with me!" Jack huffed.

"Fine, fine," Michelle said with her hands up in surrender. She stood up and grabbed her purse. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"So...no sex then?" Jack asked in a pathetic, last-ditch tone.

Michelle playfully smacked him on the head with her purse. "Yeah, I don't think so. Looks like you have some baggage that needs tending to."

"I have no baggage," Jack asserted as he followed her to the door.

She buttoned up her shirt and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. "Goodnight. Jack. I'll see you around at work." And with that, she was out the door.

"I'll put the picture away," he called down the hallway as she walked away without looking back. "I don't have any baggage!" he asserted as she rounded the corner and walked out of sight. "I don't even travel! I don't go to the airport! I hate planes! I have no reason to have baggage!"

Jack hung his head and shut the door before leaning against it. It was still hard to stand straight so he allowed his body to dramatically sink to the floor in defeat.

The picture was still in his hand. In fact, he'd been gesturing with it during the last minute of conversation. He turned it toward him and stared at it for a good while. Even though it had been on his nightstand since he moved into the apartment a few years ago, he never really looked at it. Instead, it had become a comfortable background piece, a source of comfort for his subconscious mind.

He could always tell by Janet's hair what year it was. This one must've been '82. It was the day they had all gone to the zoo, shortly after Terri moved in. It was their way of trying to bond with her and make her feel comfortable with them. Cindy came, Larry had insisted on coming when he found out that Terri was going...and for some reason Mr. Furley had decided that he just had to see the penguins. He would just die if he didn't see the penguins. And so, they'd brought him along as well to ensure his continued existence.

At some point, after making sure everyone got to see their preferred animal, Janet had insisted they take a group picture. She was always the one to make sure they remembered to do things like that. A random passerby was kind enough to take it for them. Janet, to his left, wrapped one arm around him and placed the other on his belly. It was her signature pose and he loved it. He loved every minute of it.

He'd found the picture during the move after the Big Fight with Vicky. In between a shouting match that involved exchanged words like "You never supported me!" and "You care more about your career than you care about me!" and "Yeah, maybe it's because I'm sick of your fear of commitment!" Jack had furiously stuffed a box full of junk. The picture fluttered to the floor, serving as a stark reminder of what he'd allowed himself to lose to get to this point in the first place.

Younger Jack and Janet stared back at him. Their smiles mocked and accused him, as if to say 'Look what you've done. Look what you've lost.'

Jack grabbed onto the entryway table to steady himself as he pushed himself back up. He looked down at the picture one more time and pushed out his lip in defiance. 'Yeah, well what the hell do you know?' he said to the couple staring back at him before setting it face down onto the table.

...

"Dave, adjust the lighting on the right there, will ya?" Jack asked. Dave complied. "And...yeah, just lower it a little bit. Yeah, a little bit more..."

"Come on, Jack, how many times are you gonna ask us to redo this shot?"

"I just think," Jack began defensively, "If we're doing this special, we've gotta do it right." He made a motion over the right side of his face to denote its importance.

"We should've been out of here hours ago."

"Look," Jack said, gesturing for the makeup artist to touch up the powder on his forehead, "I want to be home as much as the rest of you – "

"No he doesn't," a camera operator mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

"BUT (and I heard that, Jerry), BUT, if we want to get the ratings that we were getting last year, we can't afford any mistakes. You heard the guys at the network. It's not how it was a few years back. We have competitors now. The landscape is changing. They don't want to see me cook anymore. They want interaction. They want me to mingle with the camera. And if I'm gonna mingle..." Jack coughed after he inhaled the last touch of powder. "If I'm gonna mingle, you want me to look good right? You want me and my buddy Guy Frisco here to look our very best, don't you?"

Jacks' assistant, Guy Frisco, who was busy preparing the dish they were making, looked up briefly. It was clear he was exhausted. He produced a shy smile and went back to what he was doing.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a couple of stud muffins," Dave replied. Jack winked and aimed his two pointer fingers in Dave's direction.

"Alright, that's enough out of all of you," the director chimed in. "We're running extremely late and Hank was on my ass hours ago. Get it done."

"Just want to get it right, Ken."

"Get. It. Done. Jack."

Jack held his hands up defensively and Ken called action. To his right Guy was putting the finishing touches on the Duck confit. It was clear he was a little distracted as he began to over season the dish. Ken yelled cut and threw up his arms. Jack side eyed his assistant.

"Penny for your thoughts, Guy?"

Guy looked up, startled as if he was just realizing where he was. "Huh? Oh...sorry...sorry Jack, sorry everyone. Sorry I was just," he chuckled and smiled. "I guess I was just thinking about Maura and the new baby. I just, ya know, I promised them I'd be home for dinner," he sighed. "It's Christmas Eve, Jack."

Jack chuckled back and looked up at everyone. There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. "Was that tonight?" Some of the others on set laughed in response, others groaned. He turned back toward Guy. "Do you think the rest of us enjoy being here on Christmas Eve?"

Guy awkwardly shrugged. "N...well, maybe?"

"Okay, okay," Jack tried to brush it off. "Look, maybe I'm being a bit of a perfectionist today."

"Today?" Ken grumbled.

"BUT I have worked hard to get to where I am right now. I had people telling me it wasn't possible to finish top of my class in cooking school. Then I had people telling me I'd never get a job as a chef. And then those same people told me I'd never own my own restaurant, let alone own a chain of restaurants AND have my own cooking show. But did I listen to them? No! And do you know why, Guy?"

Guy looked down and shook his head.

"Because I knew that if I persisted, years down the line I would have folks lining up to get a taste of my cooking. Because I knew I was good enough. I am good enough. Do we want to let all of those people down?"

"No," Guy replied.

"Do we want to let those people down, everyone?" Jack called out to the rest of the crew, to mixed replies.

"Good. Let's roll."

...

After another good twenty minutes, they called it a wrap and the majority of the crew cleared out. Jack, not among them as usual, headed off set to his office.

He hadn't exactly befriended a lot of his coworkers in the two years since he became the star of his own cooking show and a local celebrity. It's not that he didn't want to get closer to any of them, he just didn't have the time. To obtain the success he'd achieved, he had to throw every ounce of himself into it. There was no time for a social life; there was no time for friends and certainly no time for love. He realized that it had already been nearly five years since Vicky had told him as much before she walked out on him. But it didn't matter. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. He finally had everything he'd ever dreamed of.

The sound of a stack of memos hitting his desk startled him from his thoughts. "Who's Janet?"

"What?" Jack asked, looking up at Michelle. Not awkward at all, but she seemed to have no qualms about the other day.

"Alice took the call earlier. She said you could call her at home after eight. Is it the woman in the picture?" she winked.

Jack looked at the number on the paper in front of him. The name Janet Dawson was scribbled just above it. He produced a long, drawn-out sigh and ran his hand over his face. "Not that it's any of your business," he began and paused for a moment, "But yeah. It is. Okay?"

"And? Oh, come on, Jack. I know there's a story there. It's Christmas. Throw me a bone!" She pleaded, then added, "You certainly didn't the other night."

Jack scowled. "Don't you have family to go home to?"

"Single. Remember?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "You know what? Sure. Fine. Whatever. Yes, she was someone very important to me, okay?" he softened a bit as he reluctantly allowed the memories to come back to him. "She was my roommate for seven years. We were...close..." he stopped for a moment, trailing off. "We were really close. There was a time when I couldn't imagine my life without her in it. And then, like an idiot, I fell in love with her."

Michelle's eyes indicated excited interest and urged him to continue. "And?"

"And. I never told her. She got married. End of story. Can you go now?"

"You never told her?! And you have a picture of her on your nightstand? Oh that is...that is – "

"It's what?" Jack asked growing angry.

"Pathetic! My god, you've obviously never gotten over it!" She stopped as if realizing. "And now she's called to get you back. Jack! She wants your hot body!"

"Michelle."

"So, are you going to call her back?"

"I don't..." he shook his head and threw his hands up. "I don't know, okay?"

"I'm calling her," she said, grabbing the phone.

"No," Jack said, placing his hand on the switch hook.

"Jack! You're clearly still in love with her. You're not even curious why she called?"

"Not right now," he whispered. He stared at her name again. Dawson. She's still married.

He tried not to think about that night 7 years ago, or any of the other nights surrounding that time. He'd decided that there was absolutely no reason to ruminate. It was over. He'd made his choice. It was up to him to deal with the consequences of that choice. And, for what it was worth, he had to admit that he was doing pretty damn well considering. "We can't take them back once we've made them," someone had once told him about choices. There was something more to that line, but he couldn't remember. He didn't need to. It spelled things out pretty clearly.

Jack said nothing leading up to the day Janet got married. He said nothing the day of the wedding. It was a decision he wasn't even sure he was going to make until he'd made it. All he remembered – the one thing he knew for certain – was that the minute Janet said I do, his heart broke into a million tiny little fragments. He then attempted to glue those fragments back together with Vicky. And when she didn't give him what he needed (namely, not being Janet among other things) those fragments were ground into a fine powder. When he finally let it heal again, it was harder. Tougher. It was better that way, he decided, because that way he could focus on other things – things besides love.

Now he had his restaurants. Better restaurants! And his show! His celebrity! He didn't need love. Tina Turner was right. It was a second-hand emotion. And it did nothing but get in the way.

Before Michelle could protest, Jack's boss walked into the room. "Well, well, still at your desk, Jack?" the man's grating voice rang in his ears.

"Hi, Hank," Jack muttered. His high from being the hot shot on set was always squashed as soon as the man opened his mouth.

"How's my star chef?" he walked over to Jack and gave him a playful punch on the arm that was just a little too hard.

"Spending the day giving it my all just like you asked...big guy," Jack said as he nursed his arm. There was a tinge of contempt in his voice, but he played it cool.

"Look at us, Jack," Hank said, as he hugged Jack close and Jack winced in response. "Just a couple of heartless bastards who only care about fame and money, am I right?"

"Yeah, look at us," Jack said as he casually pulled the man's arm away from him.

"Got a call from Dave Wallace today. Loves what you're doing. The people love what you're doing. But."

"There's always a but."

"We want to see more of it. More specials. Bigger, flashier. We want you to make love to the public eye."

"I hope they take me out to dinner first," Jack joked and let out an awkward laugh which turned into a fake cough the moment he realized Hank wasn't laughing. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course! And we're doing that. But you know, my restaurants. I mean I barely even get to cook anymore."

"Eh, you have people for that. You're the big guy on campus now. Nobody has what you do! Look at you!" he punched Jack again, causing Jack to fall out of his chair this time.

"Yeah, no, yeah! Yeah, look at me!" he exclaimed as he brushed himself off and stood up.

"So on that note, how about spending the day with me and some of the studio heads tomorrow. Do a little schmoozing, work the room. It'll be great for your reputation."

"Tomorrow? On Christmas?"

"Yeah, Dave has a whole room blocked at the Beverly Wilshire. It'll be fun!"

Jack looked over at Michelle, who had up until then been sifting through some papers to try and avoid the conversation. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Hey Michelle? Can you tell Alice to call my mom? Tell her I can't make it tomorrow after all."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Atta boy Jack," she said before leaving the room.

"Atta boy is right," Hank said as he violently shook Jack. "That's why I like you. I love an opportunist."

"That's me. Ol' opportunist." He paused for a moment, the memo still clearly on his mind.

"Ah, don't sulk. Mom will understand. She wants you to succeed, right?" Hank said.

"Uh...no it's not that. Um...he fiddled with the piece of paper with Janet's name and number on it. "Hey, Hank, let me ask you something."

"Anything, Jack," he said not meaning it.

"Say an old friend of yours calls you up out of the blue on Christmas Eve and...you know, it's been years. She's...well, it's someone I really cared about. What would you do?"

"She, huh? You and her ever..." he raised his eyebrows up and down.

"No, no, it's not like that. It wasn't...we were just really good friends," he lied. "We knew each other for years."

"No hanky panky, huh?"

"Well, not for lack of trying..." Jack admitted sheepishly. Hank pointed at him in approval and chuckled. "But no. No, um...hanky...panky."

"And you knew her for years? Eh," he said, waving Jack off. "It's probably nothing. People these days, they're always looking for favors from people like you. I wouldn't bother. You have plans, remember? Big plans. Big plans for a big star." Hank said, getting up.

Jack continued to fiddle with the piece of paper, spinning it around with his finger as if the tactile motion would will her into existence. He forced out a nonchalant mini-laugh. "Yeah. You're right. It's probably nothing."

"Good boy, Jack. Leave it in the past. Worry about the future."

"Right," Jack said with defeat and moved to get up to follow Hank out the door, leaving the piece of paper behind on his desk. "The future."