The Perfect Weapon Ending 1 Chapter 1002: Part 2 section 2 of 3
Chapter 1002 Part 2 Section 2 of 3
“Jack....” Judy said softly. Touched his hand.
“Yes?” he blinked. Then looked into her eyes, smiled at her. A perfectly natural smile, as if the world of no doubt deadly possibilities had not passed through his eyes just moments before. If she had not known how rare those smiles were, or had been, it might have fooled her. If she had not seen it, she would have thought it merely a chimera of her imagination.
“You...have a plan? That is what you were just doing? Running a game scenario?”
“Yes.” He smiled again. He had the trap on its way, now he had the bait. Life was good.
She felt the excitement in him, thought she would run out of time at any moment, but had to ask, “You came up with it in less than a minute?” She was incredulous even though she had just witnessed it, wished she could have had an EEG machine hooked up to him to see into, as far as possible, his mind.
“Oh no,” he shook his head and laughed. She shivered even though the laugh was not directed at her. “This little game plan has been months in the making. I had already laid the groundwork, let my instincts guide me, used my knowledge of her patterns. Acquired....information. Just in case. One must always cover the just-in-cases of the game, you know.”
“Thanks for the education. I’ll file it away in case I ever decide to go into psych ops or game theory,” she said snappishly, her nervousness at this demonstration of raw power making her anxious. Then she thought of his dissertation and bit her lip to hide her grin. One of these days, she was going to hold that over his head, one of these days, when he was no longer her patient. Like tomorrow.
“Have any of your other patients ever called you a smartass, Judy?” He asked, more relaxed by the minute.
“I think most of my other patients probably think I’m a tight....Never mind. And now? What just happened?” What had she said that triggered his thought process?
“I just needed some inspiration, the missing link, the key. And talking with you, I found it. Thank you, as always, for your help.”
“May I ask? How bad is it?” she asked curiously, knowing she would get no real details, but still....
“No one will die. It’s completely....bloodless.”
“And that’s what...scares me,” she said softly. “What is the cost to you of this plan?”
“That’s an interesting question, Judy. Usually you’ve asked me what the cost is to others of my plans.”
“Stop dissembling and answer the question.”
He looked at her directly, steadily. No mask, no fear, no opacity. Just..could it be? Was it... Him? The real Jack? She looked deeply into his eyes and almost gasped. He was in there. The man she had known he could be. That was what she had been sensing today. The snotty comments, the teasing, the jokes, and most of all, the honesty, the willingness to talk. He had turned a corner. He had reached some...new place in Panama.
And what he had found, finally, finally, finally, was himself.
She wanted to leap from the couch, run around the room screaming, hug him, hug Susan, shout from the windows. He had found himself. Finally. She blinked rapidly, afraid that her tears of happiness for him, so unexpected, would start to flow. She squeezed her hands together, wished for one moment, one moment, she could tell Dave. But then, she decided, with a deep sigh, if there was a God in heaven, Dave was seeing this moment too.
Faith, she would just rely on faith, as she had advised Jack. Faith. He had finally found faith in himself.
“You know, Judy, as the night in Panama went on... Does this make you uncomfortable?” he stopped suddenly to ask.
She caught a glimpse of yet another part of him, a gentleman who could care about the feelings of others. “No, this doesn’t discomfit me in any way, don’t worry. I want to hear.”
“Okay, then. I had some hope and bit by bit, I lost it. But up until the very end, when I opened that limo door...And then I knew. I had no hope, no faith in her. And where there is no hope, no faith, there cannot be love.”
She cocked her head and looked at him. “I never thought about that. But...you’re right. The love may never end, the love you felt for the woman you knew, the person whose soul attracted yours, but--”
“The love you chose to give, the love that is an act of faith, an act of will? A choice? That is gone and will never return. And I hope I’m adult enough to know that what might have been is not the same as what is. I’m tired of wasting time, wasting my life. She needs to be brought to justice. She needs to be removed as a potential danger to so many. Sydney and I need to be free. It’s time to move on. In every way.”
“When did you come to that conclusion?”
“That night, the end of that night, as the morning began. I realized that I was tired of not directing my own life. That I wanted to make the choices, live with my choices. And on the way back home from Panama, alone except for the bodies of those Delta Force guards in their plain pine coffins. I realized then, what I wish I could have realized the day so long ago that I sat next to Dave, my hand on the top of his pine coffin, on some other CIA plane.”
“What is that?”
“First of all, I faced, truly faced the fact, didn’t try to hide from the fact, that one of the greatest losses in my life was losing Dave, because...” And maybe, he thought, maybe that was the greatest loss, in fact, because ---
“His love was true?”
“Yes. But this time, not like the last time when I sat there feeling so cold, feeling so hard, so brittle, that I would surely break if someone touched me, if I let myself just feel something, learn something. ...This time I didn’t close my brain off from what my heart was feeling. I allowed myself to feel it. And dealt with it.”
“And what did you do this time?”
“This time....This time, for the last time when I didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t let myself. This time for Dave? Finally.”
“Yes?”
“I wept.”
“Thank God,” she said softly, and touched his hand and he squeezed it for a moment. “Finally.”
“Yes. And when I was done, I thought about what you said, really thought about it. Thought about what Dave would have wanted, what he would have told me. So, secondly, I thought about what I wanted, what my regrets would have been if I had been in one of those boxes looking into the endless goodnight. Wasting time with regrets, with what-might-have-beens, what-might-I-have-done-differentlys. That life is too short for this sh*t I’ve been carrying around. It’s time to move on.”
“To what? Last time you said peace and closure.”
“I think I deserve more... “
“Yes. And what do you want, now, Jack? Besides an end to this game between you and Derevko?”
“I want a good relationship with my daughter. I want grandchildren to spoil.” He rolled his eyes. “Before I get old. I want friends, I want to read books again. I want a new hobby or two. I ... would like to... not be alone the rest of my life. I want to be someone’s first choice, the choice she would make first.”
He looked down for a moment, then back up, saying, “But even though I’m not ready at this moment, I don’t dare look for someone as long as she’s out there. Her possessiveness....I could never ask another woman to take that risk.”
She nodded, thinking of his contact in Cairo, whose life had so coincidentally ended after that proposal that Jack have a long-term assignment as her lover. Yeah, she got his point.
He sighed, “So, there are multiple personal reasons to sever the connection, end the game, if you’re looking for additional motivations, which I’m sure you are. You always are, after all.”
“What I’ve been looking for is for you to find the right path back to-“
“The place I knew before?” he said wryly.
“No,” she said firmly. “No Hotel California for you. You deserve some place better. Some place where you had faith in yourself, which you did not truly have before.”
He nodded, “As irritating as it is to admit this, you were right, when you said I needed faith. And I found it. Finally.” He looked at her carefully. “You knew I would, didn’t you?”
“I had faith in you.”
“Thank you. I needed your faith.... And again, thank you, Judy. It’s been…helpful talking this out with you. Today and before.”
“What, what did you say?” she asked teasingly.
“It’s been helpful, I guess you could say. I mean as helpful as any psychobabble can be,” he said, with a teasing glint in his own eye.
She laughed. “Ah! So, you admit that? That it’s been helpful? For psychobabble that is?”
“I’ve been coming back and talking to you for over a year. Obviously I’ve found it helpful or I would have found a way out of the appointments. I’m a master games theorist,” he grinned, “If I could not have found my way out of these appointments, I’d have to hand in my ‘get out of jail free’ card, wouldn’t I?”
She laughed, surprised at the joke, more surprised, he could tell, at the smile he wore.
“Thank you. You’ve given me more than one good idea.”
“Jack Bristow’s idea of a good idea? Should I be worried?”
“No,” he shook his head, still smiling. “This idea, I think, will set me free. Finally.”
“You do understand that...”
“This way must set me free that without harming my self-perception, my honest self assessment of my worth, my self esteem, my honor? That I must be true to myself? I have been listening, Judy.”
“You actually admit-“
“Oh, therapy isn’t a total waste of time.”
She stared at him. “Was that another joke?”
“I do make them on occasion.”
“Really?” she said dryly. “Once every ten years?”
“Was that a….joke?” he asked equally dryly.
“I think,” she said standing up, “that not only is our time up, but our sessions are done as well.”
“What?”
“I think, let me speak slowly for you…” Was she teasing him? he wondered, then knew she was. “I think that for all intents and purposes, that you are done. I would recommend one more session after you do whatever it is you are clearly planning. If you want, that is. And of course, you can always call me if you feel the need. What do you think?”
His first thought was that he would miss these conversations, these little word games with her, parrying her strategies... He sighed. “Yes. I feel whole again.”
“Good.” She gave him a brilliant smile and then turned slightly toward her desk. “But first....”
She walked over to her desk, to get some kind of treatment release form, he assumed, although her hand hovered over the brightly-wrapped gift that he had assumed was for someone’s birthday. To his surprise, she put her hand on the package and after biting her lip for a moment, turned and handed it to him.
“I found this recently when I was examining the detritus of my life. I...In going through the Archives looking at documentation on you, I began to wonder what evidence my life would leave. And I found this book from college. I don’t know if you ever read it, it’s a classic. And I thought of you, decided I wanted you to have it as a kind of ....graduation gift from therapy.”
He held the package in his hands, just staring at it. Suddenly she wondered if she had crossed some other, new, line. Or, she wondered when had he last been given a gift? Her eyes narrowed, as she thought that she really needed to schedule additional sessions with Sydney. Or...maybe he just hated the wrapping paper. What had she been thinking?
“What is it?” he asked softly and she realized that he had been watching the play of emotions on her face. “You look...chagrined.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrapped it that way. It’s not very...appropriate,” she frowned.
“What do you mean? It’s very pretty. The paper with the silvery swirls in it... Is this shade of lavender called orchid? You like this color, don’t you? I’ve seen you wear a top in this color.” She shook her head in amusement realizing that he noticed everything. “And the silver bow? It’s colorful. With the curling ribbons - you use scissors to do that, right?” She nodded. “Well, I...like it, appreciate it.”
“You’re just being nice,” she moaned.
He laughed. “Perhaps I need to introduce myself again? I’m Jack Bristow-“
“Who can be a very nice man when he wants. Cut the crap with me, Jack. I know you too well. And what I didn’t know, Susan told me.”
“She blew my cover?” he asked portentously, but his eyes were alight as he looked at the gift. “I’ll have to talk to that young lady. Or introduce her to-“
“Weiss?”
He frowned and looked down for a second before asking very softly, "Do you know -- is she really over that....thing you mentioned before, because I..."
"Yes," she whispered back. "I think she's over that crush on you, just wants to be your friend." She smiled sadly as she watched his brow crease with concentration as he absorbed the thought, then saw, with relief, that it cleared as he accepted it.
He smiled. "Okay, Judy, enough with the dissembling.” She frowned. He continued, “Ah, do you know how I’ve longed to say that to you?”
“Ha. Ha. I...I was just realizing I should have wrapped it more...masculinely? And before you say what is clearly on the tip of your tongue, I know that’s not a real word.”
“You just took all of the fun out of my day,” he sighed melodramatically. “But seriously, why would I want you to wrap up your present in some masculine way? You’re a woman. If I wanted masculine, I’d go back to the Op Center and have yet another pissing contest with Kendall.”
She burst out laughing. “I see your point.”
“And I see the point here. You took time, took the effort. You picked out special paper, nice, heavy paper, and an expensive metallic bow that-“ he lifted the edge of the bow and peeked, “Yes, this is a brand new bow, no tape on the back, the original adhesive still intact, so it’s not one you’ve reused...” He grinned, knowing he had her.
She gritted her teeth. “How did you know....”
“I pay attention. You’re careful, the type that saves bows to reuse and smooths out wrapping paper-“
“Oh, be quiet and just open it already,” she said crossing her arms. With a mischievous look in his eye - what a day this was, she thought to herself - and with some delight at irritating her she knew, he ripped the paper away in one quick grab and destroyed it, so that -- he was right -- she could not reuse it even if she wanted to. She laughed, “I always thought you’d be the kind to carefully slit open...”
“Why would I do that? I trust you not to have a bomb in here.” Then he looked up from the package and said seriously, “I do trust you. That is why....”
“That is why you allowed the therapy to work this time. But why did you trust me?” She asked curiously, wondering what she had done correctly.
“Because you told me off more than once, told me when I was being an ass.”
“Ah, is that the key?” Being honest, just using her instincts had worked to win his trust? Well, that made sense, of course. How could you win someone’s trust by being dishonest, by pretending to be something you were not?
“Honesty usually is. Truth leads to trust, doesn’t it?” As he turned the book over to the front cover, she pondered his words and thought a little sadly that she would miss hearing him articulate the workings of his mind. His index finger traced the title as he said slowly, looking up at her, “Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe?”
“Yes. I hadn’t read it in more than thirty years, but... when I saw it in the bottom of one of my boxes of old textbooks...”
“I started to read this in college too.” He looked up, smiled. “Must have been a popular book at the time in colleges around the country.”
“Yes, but we -“ She sighed when he interrupted her. One of these days she would have to tell him---
“But I stopped reading it. Talked my professor into letting me read something else.”
“Wow, what a shock. Jack Bristow talked his way out of something,” she said sarcastically.
“Well, you do know me. But I hated the book. And I’m sure you know why,” he said, turning the book over and over in his hands.
She nodded. “Yes. Because it’s about a man who allowed his fear of turning into his father rule his life. Which is not, let me make perfectly clear, what I think you did. That would of course be far too simplistic a description of you.”
“Thanks. I think,” he said softly.
“And too, it’s about the power of divisions, divisiveness. A lesson I think you already know.”
“Yes. I’ve learned about the importance and value of connections.” He smiled and for a second she saw that coldness enter his eyes. Then he came back to her and said lightly, tapping the book in his hand. “But this book is my graduation gift from therapy. No more sessions?”
“No. You can always call me if you really feel a need to...But you don’t need a therapist anymore, Jack. You need a life. And you’re ready to have one now. A full life as the man you were always meant to be, the man you’ve become, the man with a world of options, with a world of potential before him. And unlike the man in this book, you will make the right choices. You already made the most important choice, when you decided to stop being governed by fear.” She tapped the book too.
“Yes, I did make that decision. But I did allow fear and not faith to guide too much of my life,” he admitted.
“Yes. In the past. But my point with this gift, is that this story is the opposite of yours. You made the right choices.”
“So....This book is a...kind of moral lesson, in what might have happened had I made a different choice? A what if? If I had chosen fear instead of faith?”
“Yes,” she said softly. Thinking that he needed to remember that he had made good choices, that he had the courage and imagination to make the right choices.
He nodded, looking down at the book and idly opened it. Smiled when he saw her name in somewhat girlish handwriting on the title page. “Ah, you wrote your name in it - didn’t plan on selling it the next semester?”
“No, I...” And she began talking about...something but he was not listening. His mouth agape for a split second, genuinely surprised for one of the few times in his life, he read the inscription she had written in more mature handwriting.
“Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold…
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction; while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.”
“To Jack, “ it read. “Who proves the lie to this poem. Who, I know, even in the midst of anarchy and loss, can have both conviction AND passionate intensity. I know, even as things fall apart, I know that your center can and will hold. Hear your inner voice. Have faith. Always have faith. Judy.”
He bit his lip when he saw that she had dated it before he had gone to Panama. She had had faith that he would make the right choice. Before he did. What a gift. That was the true gift. He would have to find a way to thank her for it. He would have to think about it for a while.
He rubbed his thumb across her handwriting and looked up. Said softly, “This is the poem about which I was thinking before...I can’t believe...”
“Neither could I when I realized that when you began speaking about a poem and duty in the face of evil, that it had to be this one, 'The Second Coming.' But of course, I always assumed Achebe drew the title from that poem, so...”
“It’s still odd.”
She laughed. “In comparison to what in your life?”
He laughed too. “Excellent point.” But still... “Again, I have to thank you.”
“I want to thank you. You have been a challenge.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been a pain in the ass.”
“That too. But... it was interesting. You are interesting. This conversation, all of our conversations are interesting.”
“I bet you’ll be able to get a paper out of this for your next conference,” he said in self-deprecation.
“No, not that way. Although, okay, our sessions, your therapy is interesting professionally, of course.” She smiled. “But what I meant, was that our conversations have been interesting for me as a person too.”
“Oh. Oh! Me too,” he said softly, a crease between his brows evident as he looked down. His hands absently folded the wrapping paper, stuck it inside the book and then tucked the bow in his pocket. He held the book in his left hand and finally looked up as he extended his right hand. “I guess this is it, then?”
She took his hand in both of hers. “This is the end of our sessions. But.” She smiled. “I hope I’ll see you around, Jack,” she said.
“Um, sure,” he said quizzically. Then meeting her eyes he looked away swiftly.
“I hope we might be friends?” she asked, releasing his warm hand.
“Friends?” He looked at her in surprise and gave a crooked grin she did not think she’d seen before. “I think I’d like that...”
“Think? Just think?” She asked teasingly and then watched incredulously as he turned slightly red. “Oh, Jack...” she said, patting him on the shoulder as they walked over to her door. Opening it for him, since he seemed frozen with - and she’d never say it - shyness.
He gave her a quick smile, looked down once again and then bolted through the door and closed it behind him, almost in her face. She bit her lip to keep from bursting into laughter. Threaten the most heinous forms of torture and she would bet he wouldn’t break a sweat, but suggest friendship and he turned red and ran. Yes, an interesting case, an interesting man.
What would happen next?
“Jack...Wait!” Susan called out, as he would have darted out of the office. “Hey. Wait, what’s that?” She pointed to the book with the folded purple wrapping paper sticking out from the middle.
“Oh.” He relaxed. It was just Susan, after all. “Judy gave me a gift.” He felt a smile overtake his face as he held the book up to show her. When was the last time someone had given him a gift, he wondered. A gift without strings, without hidden agendas? A ‘just because’ gift? This was turning out to be quite a day.
“A gift,” she said slowly, smiling herself at the look of innocent delight on his face. But...a gift from Judy? She was filing that information away so that she would be sure to tell ---
“For my last session.”
“Ah! That’s great. How do you f---” She bit her lip at the look of disdain on his face. “I won’t ask how you feel!”
“Good. I’d hate to have to hurt you,” he quipped, absently fingering the bow in his jacket pocket, playing with the ribbons.
“Oh, puh-leeze. But, are you done with work for the day now? It is late.” She pointed to the clock.
“I...suppose. I mean I could go back to work. I should go back to work. But...” He did not want to. Besides, he could always work at home, he had needlenose pliers at home too.
“Let’s celebrate your last official session. I’ll take you to dinner. Anywhere you want,” she offered, turning off her computer.
“Oh...I...”
She stood up, put the cover on her equipment, as she said in her best schoolteacher voice, “Here is where you say, ‘What a delightful idea, Susan! Thank you ever so much for thinking of me. Let’s go!’”
He laughed. “You win. Let’s go.” He didn’t want to be alone anyway.
She gathered her belongings and they walked to the parking garage. “We can talk about the books my book club is reading,” she suggested.
“Not that again. I mean, honestly, Susan, do I look like the Bridget Jones’ Diary type to you?”
Susan laughed, her voice filling the parking garage as they walked toward their cars. “No, but I admit I would love to hear your take on it. It would be worth the price of admission.”
Irina Derevko walked back and forth on the sand. Cursing the fact that it was too soft, that her heels kept sinking into the soft granular mounds created by the rough waves and strong wind on this beach. Cursing the wind, even though it was warm, because it kept blowing her hair around. Cursing because she had forgotten to bring a ponytail holder with her in her haste to get outside, thinking wryly, ‘My kingdom for a circle of coated elastic.’ Imagining Jack rolling his eyes, retorting automatically,"‘My kingdom for a horse.' Richard III--” Then she interrupting him, ‘Act V, Scene 4.’ How she missed playing that game with him.
“Who is that woman talking to my father?” Sydney asked in a shrill whisper as she and Vaughn entered the parking garage.
Vaughn turned. Swallowed. He saw Danger, Danger signals ahead. “Oh, that’s Susan. C’mon, you know her - she’s Barnett’s assistant.” That was safe, maybe they’d still go home and--
“Oh. Yeah.” Sydney’s brow cleared for a moment. He breathed a sigh of relief. Then wanted to groan when Sydney asked, “Well, what’s she doing with my dad?” She gasped. “He’s not dating her---”
“No! Of course not.” Good lord, what was going to happen the day Jack did start dating again? Even though he and Susan both thought...Sometimes he wondered about their plan. Like now, seeing the glint in Sydney’s eyes. Rolling his own, he added, “They are, I....guess, friends.” What was this in the last two days - Jack and friends?
Think, Derevko, think. You came outdoors, in the fresh air, to help clear your head. Find a way to win. To win everything. There had to be a way, she decided firmly, again for the thousandth time, as she clambered over sharp rocks up to the tide pool she knew existed at this spot on the beach. Sitting on her haunches, she pulled a piece of driftwood over and began stirring the water in the pool. Hmm, same set of creatures as the last time she had looked. Same set of players in the game as the last time she had contemplated her options.
“Friends? With my dad? What could they possibly have in common?” she scoffed, although her eyes narrowed. He rolled his eyes. He could see the future. And there was no nice quiet evening at home tonight in it. Nope. He sighed in resignation. Might as well surrender to the inevitable.
“Books. Susan is a former English teacher. And Jack apparently used to read a lot and-“ Don’t ask me how I know that, don’t ask me....
“Well, I have a degree in English! He could be talking to me about books. Humph! I bet that blonde is suggesting....oh, I don’t know, Bridget Jones’ Diary or something else utterly ridiculous-“
“You have a better recommendation?” Vaughn challenged her, edging them closer to Jack, who had caught sight of them and stopped. Maybe if Syd and Jack could actually communicate....
“Of course I do!” Sydney said and began walking briskly in their direction. “Let’s see what they’re up to...”
“Ruining my love life. Jack ruins my love life when he’s not even trying to ruin my love life, it’s unbelievable, uncanny...” Vaughn muttered as they reached Jack and Susan. Catching sight of the book in Jack’s hand, Vaughn had to smile. Jack saw him and asked, “You have something to add, Vaughn?”
“I’m just noticing that book. I read it in college.”
“I think we all did,” Susan laughed. “The book is from Dr. Barnett, a gift to Jack.” She looked hard at Vaughn as she said it and he nodded.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking, Vaughn? You have...five wrinkles on your forehead this time.”
He froze for a split second, trapped by the razor-like glint in Jack’s eyes. For crying out loud he was an operative, couldn’t he come up with a lie? Oh, here. Vaughn said, “I’m thinking how ironic it is that you’re holding Things Fall Apart, when it seems like everything is coming together, that you’ve got it all under control.”
“Life is full of ironies,” Jack said dryly, although he still looked skeptically at the younger man. “As you’ll see. But right now...” He paused and looked at Sydney. “Do you want to come to dinner with us? The simple truth is that I’m starving.”
The simple truth, he thought later, was that he was confused. Why was Sydney acting like such a jerk to Susan? He had thought the two young women would be friends, they had so much in common. Sydney was interrupting and being condescending and...really annoying, feeling the need to trump every comment Susan made. Vaughn’s brow was so furrowed they could plant a crop of corn in his forehead. Susan merely looked as if she would burst into laughter at any moment. At least she was a good sport about it, whatever it was, he thought, as he sent her a commiserating look and rolled his eyes.
Susan smiled again. Then she seemed to come to a decision and standing, tossed her napkin down onto the table. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to powder my nose.” Oh, brother, what was she up to? Both Jack and Vaughn wondered. Jack stood up courteously and Vaughn scrambled to his feet in imitation.
“I’ll come with you,” Sydney said firmly and throwing her napkin on the table, stalked off after her.
“I do believe gauntlets have just been thrown,” Vaughn muttered, as he absently folded Sydney’s napkin and laid it gingerly on the table.
Jack drummed his fingers on the surface. Vaughn almost handed him a pencil, then looked up in shock when Jack asked haltingly, “Vaughn? While the girls are in the bathroom....”
“Yeah?” Vaughn asked while he signaled the waiter for another drink. Maybe two. Hell, maybe three. He upended the glass in his hand and drained it of every drop before asking, “Don’t know what’s going on here, do ya, Jack? A red letter day! Let’s mark it down on the calendar.” Oh. My. God. What had he just said? He closed his eyes, then looked up slowly.
The drumming fingers stopped and Jack’s hand slowly came up to cover his mouth, as he looked over at Vaughn. Poor Mike, Jack thought snidely, life is tough when you always feel like you’re one step behind. Too bad he didn’t display this much attitude with Sydney, it was going to cause a problem one of these days, he knew it. Having controlled the urge to grin, he put his hand down with a loud thunk on the table and with satisfaction, watched Vaughn wince. Then he pulled a pencil out of his inner breast pocket and began tapping it on the table.
“Thank you!” Vaughn exclaimed as the waiter set down his new drink. Taking a big gulp, he looked cautiously over at Jack. Should he be worried or relieved that Jack had a small, inscrutable smile on his face? Oh, what the hell, either way, just tell him the truth. “Sydney is...jealous, Jack,” Vaughn said tiredly. Jack, always Jack. Jack, pencil tap, Jack, pencil tap, Jack...Aaack! He wanted to scream.
“She sees Susan as a threat?”
“Yeah. But she’d see anyone as a threat - she asked if you were dating Susan.”
“Please. She’s just a few years older than Sydney.” Jack rolled his eyes. “And she knows better than that, Susan is a...friend--” He looked surprised too, Vaughn decided.
“Yeah, I told her so.”
Jack looked in the direction of the ladies’ room. “So Sydney went in there to-“
“Tell her hands off, regardless,” Vaughn smiled and sipped his drink. Okay, he thought, that was a lie. He gulped it.
“Oh, well, Susan can take care of herself,” Jack shrugged. “She’s got a mouth on her.”
“Let’s hope Sydney doesn’t pop her one in that mouth,” Vaughn sighed. Nope, a good time was not going to be had tonight. But he’d like to be a fly on the wall for this conversation.
“Let me tell you something, Little Miss-“ Sydney began, pointing her finger in Susan’s face the moment she entered the ladies’ room.
“Oh, get over it, Sydney. Stop being so self-absorbed. Be glad your dad has friends with whom he can share an interest, spend time. I mean, what should he do with his evenings? Organize his junk drawer? Work on incendiary jewelry devices? Do the word jumble in the newspaper? Or, I know! Sit around and wait for you to call him?” Suddenly she reached out and grabbed Sydney’s index finger that still hovered in the air between them. “Gee, doesn’t look broken to me.” And with that, she sailed out of the ladies’ room while Sydney stood there with her mouth agape.
TBC at Chapter 1002 Part 2 section 3 of 3