Strings

Chapter 2

 The sun that came shining down on the driveway was a somewhat mockery compared to the 2-day, and night of rain showers that had preceded it. It was never a good sign when good weather came right after a xxxxxx one, at least never for Jack. It was a mockery to his binge-drinking as it was to the rain. That's what he found himself thinking as he slowly parked his truck against the curb of the driveway that lead to the big, fancy house where his ex-wife now lived.

 He honestly didn't think he would've come. Ever since their divorce, Jack had made it a personal order to restrict himself from any contact with the woman in any way whatsoever. Mostly, because he was afraid that if he was drunk enough, he probably would drive the average distant upstate to her and her boyfriend's house and do something regrettable. The kind that could prove his guilt to the allegations against him and his missing child, and end him up in a morgue with a death certificate saying: 'Cause of Death: Lethal Injection'.

 Another reason was because the last time she had visited (intruded), she had told him, and Jack keeps quoting to himself 'don't ever xxxxxxx come near me again'. With that thought, Jack almost slammed on the brakes as the truck halted to a stop. 'You're wasting your time', he thought. And not only was that true, but he was still practically plastered, and the smell was coming off of him in fumes, that it practically substituted one's average musky cologne. Very slowly, he turned his head to look out the windshield. Everything that he saw outside just added to his frustration.

 It was all perfect. The house was at least 4 times larger than his; a condominium-style architectural design with wide-inched glass windows and high-class profile paint job. Even the xxxx grass looked like it was trimmed to a 2-inch perfection, by what Jack could only guess, are high-salaried gardeners. It was a complete derision made just for him. And he was actually stupid enough to drive his drunk-xxx self and let them rub it all over his stoned face. "I don't need this." Jack intoned, hurriedly placing his keys back into the ignition before anyone saw him.

 Just as he was about to insert the key to the hole, a hand slammed onto the windshield from outside. Due to his condition, Jack jolted in place, dropping the keys from his hold and then onto the car floor.

"Hey.."

 He could hear the guy outside. He knew who it was, and he absolutely wasn't in the mood to deal with the pressure of keeping his fists back while looking at his face. Ignoring the slam-knocks at the left of his head, Jack began to fiddle around the floor for the keys. He managed to find it, but that was when he heard, her.

 "Chris, what's going on?"

 The slams stopped, and Jack righted himself on his seat as the guy withdrew from the window. Seeing no other way out of it, and because he wanted to stop acting like a xxxxx, Jack flew the car door open, and managed to get out without stumbling, and therefore not risk exposing his hangover. The guy was standing just a couple of feet away from him, but Jack made no move to even take a glance. His eyes were across the front yard, at the female wearing a loose-neck, flowing, red dress, slowly approaching them. There she was.

 Kellie 'Collingwood' Richter, was a woman of fairly average height. At least 5'8'', which lets her stand in almost the exact height as Jack. Her skin was never fair, but it was clean and clear, and always had the zesty smell of Irish Spring on them every time, after she took a bath. Kellie's parent's were brunette's, but for some reason she had grown with dirty-looking blonde locks, that she always kept down no matter what occassion. And her eyes, a treacherous shade of black that had always looked at Jack in only a shade of disappointment and hidden contempt.

 She stopped walking when she saw him, and stood there for a moment, looking at him in surprise. Jack laughed inwardly at that, remembering that she was, in fact, the one who called him. But now, he realizes, just like she always has, she was most likely not expecting him to have come at all. And Jack wished that he hadn't even bothered.

"Jack." She breathed in greeting.

"Kellie." Jack responded automatically.

 They were indifferent to each other now, but that didn't mean he couldn't handle saying a word to her.

"So this is Jack." The guy at Jack's side finally spoke up.

 Jack eyed him as he walked over to Kellie. His arm went around her waist, and he pecked her on the lips. Jack had to force every fiber of his body to keep himself from shifting in discomfort.

"You must be Chris." He said instead, looking at the man beside his ex (EX) wife, with what he hoped was a strong gaze.

' Chris' nodded

"And you must be Jack. The tailor guy." Chris said.

 Jack nodded without much thought.

"And you're the big-business wolf-street guy." He said in return.

 A moment of silence dawns on them. Jack guesses that Chris, or Kellie, or perhaps even both of them, was waiting for him to come forward and shake hands with the man. But he does no such thing. Sensing the tension, Kellie raises a hand and points her thumb over her shoulder.

"Well, we're waiting inside... so."

 Chris broke away from the tension next and released his hold on Kellie.

"Oh yeah. I hope you like Italian catering, Jack." He said as he turned and began to walk back to the house with Kellie beside him.

 How this man kept calling Jack by his given name, so freely and so consistently, rocked his patience. This was the first time the two of them had been formally introduced, and Chris already thinks that they were on terms, good enough to treat him like they were friends. 'What a piece of xxxx', Jack thinks, but he fakes a smile, and seeing the look Kellie was inwardly giving him, he keeps his thoughts to himself. "Sure."