Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

PART TWO~CHAPTER : 2

♪♫••═════ PART TWO~CHAPTER : 2  ═════••♬ ♭

Tristan laughed like he was on a carnival ride as the plane quickly dropped in altitude. With a slight jar, the wheels noisily connected with pavement then rapidly roared to a coast before steering off the main runway and to the awaiting hanger.

Through the cabin speaker, our pilot announced the arrival and in the cabin, the seat belt lamp blinked off.

Seeing that Tristan was safely in Jack's arms, I grabbed up the personal things brought on the plane. Jack picked up his own bag. As he patiently stepped aside waiting on me to go ahead to the door, I indicated the large shopping bags from his mother. “Do you want me to--”

With a shake of his head, he explained, “Whatever we leave will get brought to the car.”

The mentioned car was a high-end black SUV idling on the tarmac with its hatchback yawning open. Their luggage was being loaded. True to Jack's word, after a clasp of Jack's hand in greeting, the driver sprinted up the plane steps and returned with the shopping bags. The hoodie Tristan had insisted on wearing, only to discard midway through the trip, was also in the young man's hands.

Tristan found it funny when the guy tossed it into the backseat and 'accidentally' over the small boy's head.

Introductions came next. I shook hands with the guy who was introduced as Jack's assistant, Dax. Closer up, he appeared to be in his young twenties. Moving away, he loaded the shopping bags with the luggage and swung the hatch closed.

Dax climbed into the driver's seat. Jack fumbled at the passenger door before sheepishly catching his error. Politely holding the rear door open for me, he then climbed in behind me.

“Where to?” Dax inquired as he navigated out of the large airport.

“Chris,” Jack answered while leaning an ear down to hear Tristan who was softly, shyly speaking.

“Is this Cally Fornya?” Although he was asking Jack, Tristan's eyes strayed to me for confirmation of Jack's affirmation.

Tristan was gleeful with the answer and automatically I looked to Jack to share the moment. But, after smiling down at Tristan a moment, Jack looked away to the sunset drenched city beyond the window.

Dax shot friendly grins in the rear view as he inquired about the flight. Then, the conversation bouncing between Jack and Dax revolved around names and places I did not know.

A quarter of an hour later, the car slowed in front of a large iron gate. Dax punched something into his phone and the gate swung open. When the car came to a stop, Jack popped the door and stepped out.

With a ruffle of Tristan's hair and a glance at me, he announced, “Be right back,” and loped to a side entrance of the home.

Slightly annoyed at being left confused, I watched Dax transfer our personal belongings into a sleek sports car parked to the side of the drive.

“Is this Jack's house?” As he spoke, Tristan crawled over my lap to look at the large brick structure. When I didn't immediately answer, he prodded, “Is it mom?” Tristan possibly confused my situational agitation for anger at his shortened use of my name and he hastily corrected, “Momma.”

“I don't know sweetie,” My fingers forked through his hair smoothing the strands Jack left sticking up.

Feeling restless, I stepped from the car to better take in my surroundings.

Dax was close enough to hear Tristan's inquiry and as he grabbed the last of the luggage from the SUV, he spoke through the vehicle from the backside. “This is Chris Platt's house.” When I stared blankly, he slowed en route to the car. “Guitarist for Jackal.”