Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
I squeeze his hand. “We’re flying? Like, in a plane?”
“No, we’re flying like in a helicopter.”
“You’re serious? We’re taking a helicopter to dinner?”
“Yes, sweetheart, we are.”
Jack drives directly onto the tarmac and pulls the car inside a hangar. There’s a plaque on the door that reads “Jack Jameson” in gold letters.
“You have your own hangar?”
“It’s a rental,” he chuckles.
He parks the car, and when he opens my door, I hear the sound of a propeller whirling in the distance. He takes my hand and tells me, “It’s going to be a bit windy. Hold on tight.”
We return to the tarmac where two men are waiting for us beside the helicopter. Jack nods to them as he helps me inside. I’ve never been on a helicopter before. I’ve never even been off the ground before, except maybe on a rollercoaster but that obviously doesn’t count.
An intense mixture of fear and excitement consumes me. Seeing my apprehension, Jack takes my hand in his and holds it tightly.
“We’re about to take off, sweetheart. You’re going to love it. I promise.”
Once we’re up in the air, I look out at the city below and smile. From up here, it looks like a miniature city decked out in multicolored lights. I turn to Jack and kiss his cheek.
“Thank you so much for this, Daddy. It’s amazing.”
It’s a short flight and we land without incident. Jack hops out and lifts me by my waist, setting me down on the tarred surface with the big bull's eye painted in the center. It’s a landing strip of some kind but this isn’t an airport.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking around.
“This is the restaurant,” Jack grins.
“Are we on the roof?”
“Where else would we land a helicopter?” he laughs.
There’s a man in a suit waiting for us by a door. He opens it as we approach and leads us down a narrow flight of stairs to the restaurant below where a crowd of people are waiting to be seated. I can hear them all whisper as Jack and I walk by. Several men in suits greet him with handshakes and well wishes. He’s apparently quite the celebrity in this town. I don’t even know what town we’re in.
“Don’t we have to wait?” I ask and he smirks down at me while squeezing my hand.
“No. I don’t wait,” he says as a man in a stylish gray suit ushers us to our table.
The restaurant reminds me of a set from an old Hollywood movie with its embossed wallpaper and crystal chandeliers. I feel like we’ve entered some strange and wonderful time warp. We’re seated at a cozy table situated between two Roman columns with a window that looks out at the flashing lights of the city.
The waiter arrives with two paper menus and a wine list, but Jack puts his hand up and orders our entire meal from appetizer to dessert without looking. I watch the waiter's expression change when he suddenly realizes who he’s speaking to.
He nods and says, “Excellent, Sir,” before rushing to the kitchen. He returns moments later with a bottle of wine and pours us each a glass.
“To a lovely evening with a beautiful woman.” Jack raises his glass.
“This place is overwhelming. If the food comes even close to the atmosphere, it’s going to be the best meal of my life.”
Jack puts his hand on mine, squeezes, and asks, “Do you trust me, little one?”
“Yes, I trust you,” I mutter as his touch sends shivers up my spine.
“In my line of work, I eat in a lot of restaurants. I wouldn’t take you here if it wasn’t the best. In fact, I wouldn’t have bought it if it wasn’t the best.”
I almost choke on my wine. “Wait. You own this restaurant?”
“Among others.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“So, you own restaurants and a helicopter. Is there anything else? Hotels, rocket ships?”
“I have a pretty diverse portfolio but no rocket ships yet.”
I don’t know much about money, but I have a feeling I’ve completely underestimated just how rich Jack really is.
The food comes in waves beginning with soup and warm crisp bread, then salad, then a tray of meats, cheeses, and fruit arranged in a floral pattern. Just when I think I can’t hold another bite, our entrees arrive.
He’s ordered smoked salmon with roasted root vegetables. It looks so delicious. We take our time eating and chatting for hours. Talking to him is easy, and I love how he listens to every word I say. And I mean, actually listen.
Finally, the waiter returns with a cart filled with cakes and pastries and sets it on the table.
“I want to eat it all but I don’t think I can hold another bite. I might need to take it with me,” I tell Jack.
“Alright. I’ll have the kitchen pack it up for you.”