Chapter 5:- Two, part two
"I'm sorry," Lauren said. "I don't know anything about any money."

He let his hand drop from her waist. "Then maybe I'm not the Jack you're looking for," he said as he turned and headed back to his seat at the far end of the bar.

"Virgil's in trouble."

"He is if he doesn't get me my money," came Jacks' retort.

She followed him to his stool. "Don't you care about my brother?" she demanded.

"Listen, lady. Your brother skipped out on me five years ago with two grand in... merchandise. My merchandise." He jabbed a thumb into his chest. "He left me with a plane and nothing to carry in it. I don't care about your brother -- I care about getting paid."

Two thousand dollars was a lot of money on her salary, but if her brother was in trouble... "You're a pilot?" she asked.

He smirked into his glass. "You could say that."

"What if I paid you what my brother owes you?"

"Then he and I'd be even."

She took a deep breath. "What if I paid you double that?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the bartender. "Let's move this somewhere more private," he said, turning his attention back to Lauren. "Let's get a booth."

She followed him to the back of the bar. Whatever attraction she may have felt upon first meeting him had fled now, the victim of his callous attitude. If it wasn't for Virgil she wouldn't even still be talking to him.

"Take a seat," Jack said, dropping onto one of the benches and gesturing across the table.

"Thanks." She didn't bother trying to conceal the acid in her voice.

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" he asked. "Your brother's not in jail, is he?"

"I don't know. He's somewhere in South America--"

"'Somewhere in South America'? You do realize that's a continent you're talking about, right? Bigger than a breadbox?"

"I know that, Mister..."

"So we're not on first names anymore? Okay, Miss. Roberts--"

"Ms. Roberts."

"Ms. Roberts." He smirked. "It's Ross. Jack Ross."

"Well, Mr. Ross," she said, switching to her old librarian demeanor, "I am well aware that South America is a continent. Indeed, I'd venture that I know more about the continent than you do."

"Is that so?"

"But one thing I do not know is where my brother is, or how to find him."

"And what led you to me?"

"Your name was on the back of a picture my brother sent to me, as was the address of this establishment."

He laughed. "That's it?"

"I don't have anything else to go on, Mr. Ross."

"Please, for the love of God, call me Jack. Only my parole officer calls me Mr. Ross." He must have seen the look on her face, because he quickly followed up: "That's a joke. Jeez. Lighten up, would you?"

Her frown deepened. "Will you help me, or won't you -- Mister Ross?"

"For four grand? Yeah, I think I can give it a shot."