Page 18 of Mob Boss Daddy

“You’re driving?” I ask.

“Yes. Tonight we’re distancing ourselves from everything and everyone. For the next few hours, we’re all that matters.”

We drive through the part of the city where I lived and shopped and continue over the bridge that divides the affluent from those of us who have to wonder how we’ll pay our bills. Even the lights seem brighter on this side of town.

Soon, they fade into the background and Jack continues to drive with one hand resting on my thigh.

“We aren’t eating in the city?” I ask.

“Not this city.”

He hops onto the interstate and takes the exit for the airport.

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.

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