It had been a long time since Jack had worn a tie. He thought back, and couldn't remember. Maybe last spring, at the Dean's Tea? Dean Weaver had held a tea for all of the scholarship athletes who had maintained honor roll grades or made Dean's List or something. And he knew he hadn't worn anything like this.

However, if dressing in formal attire was going to get Kelsey to look at him the way she was looking at him now, all doe-eyed and dreamy, maybe he should do it more often.

Holy cow, she was sexy.

"Wow, Jack," she murmured, hugging herself to him, "you clean up nice." She gave him a very nice, very slow kiss. "If I'd known how good you looked all dressed up, I would've made you put on a suit months ago."

He was wearing a charcoal gray suit from Calvin Klein in a stretchy, comfortable fabric that was somehow lighter than air. The legs were a very narrow fit, as was the crotch, and he had to remind himself constantly not to tug at his junk. Kelsey had caught him doing this and had laughed, reaching in to give him a friendly squeeze.

"Hey, that's my job, coach," she joked, eyes merry.

"If you think what you're doing is going to help me with my problem, you're sadly mistaken, missy thing," Jack had replied with a grin, looking in the mirror to see if his boner showed.

With this beautiful suit he was wearing a blindingly white shirt that set off his tan and a tie in a tricky shade of turquoise that brought out his eyes and matched the color of his tennis shoes. Jack had never worn such an ensemble in his life. He was strictly an off the rack, conservative guy, but Kelsey was in charge of his wardrobe for this event, and he trusted her judgement. She was a former supermodel, and had been one of Vogue's Best Dressed Teens four years running or something. Jack was afraid to even ask what it had cost, but Kelsey assured him that the studio was paying since this was considered advance publicity for the movie or something.

Kelsey was wearing a pink lace evening dress that darkened to magenta just above her knees in a pouffy, full skirt, so beautifully fitted Jack didn't see how she got it on, even though he'd helped her to get in it himself. It was open below her shoulders, showing her gorgeous, toned back, which really had become a work of art from all the swimming, along with her glorious, world-famous legs. Her hair just brushed past her shoulder blades, accentuating the movement of her latissimus dorsi and trapezius muscles.

He stood next to her and looked in the mirror.

"I feel like the Beast standing next to Belle," he remarked.

"Jack, how can you say that?" Kelsey was exasperated. "You look outstanding! I mean, those fitted trousers make your already long legs look miles longer, and your torso has the perfect V shape for a suit, you know? I mean, seriously, next to running around in nothing, which is basically what you do when you swim, you couldn't look better than you do wearing this suit. The cut and fit accentuate, um, everything that needs accentuating," she said with an impish grin, "and the colors couldn't go better with your tan and eyes and everything, if I do say so myself." She brushed an invisible speck off his shoulder. "I would've made a hell of a stylist, I think."

Jack took a deep breath and looked at his girlfriend's face, which looked different to him because she was wearing a full complement of make-up tonight.

"Shall we get this circus on the road, then?" he asked, holding his arm out.

They left Jack's cottage and walked out to the car.

They were attending a charity party, hosted by a Los Angeles hospital, for their juvenile AIDS research wing. It was an annual, star-studded event, held at the end of every summer at a glitzy hotel, and all of Hollywood's A-listers attended. It was considered the unofficial kickoff to the fall awards season, and the place where everyone reconnected after their summers of vacations and filming in exotic locations.

"Well, in case I wasn't clear earlier with my Beauty and the Beast reference, you look exquisite," Jack said, kissing Kelsey's hand as their car headed downtown in the warm evening.

Kelsey blinked back tears, though there was no reason for her to get emotional over his words that she could discern.

"You know," Jack continued, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, "I'm never sure if that kind of stuff means anything to you or not. I mean, I never had a girlfriend before, so there's that, of course. I just assumed that girls like to hear those things, and that if I ever did have someone to say things like that to, I would, right?" He looked at her, taking her in from head to toe.

"But you, well, I mean, you're pretty spectacular, you don't need me to tell you that. People have been paying you boatloads of money to take your picture since you were thirteen years old, you know? So you've been told, I'm sure, too many times to count, by people whose opinions matter, way more than mine, how beautiful you are." Jack shrugged, still holding her hand, and Kelsey got a tantalizing whiff of his conditioner and deodorant, and, of course, chlorine.

"Jack." Kelsey leaned forward, so close she could see the little flecks in his eyes, which almost seemed to glow because of the tie he was wearing. "No one's opinion matters to me more than yours, don't you know that?"

He smiled at her words, with happiness, with gratitude, and leaned forward to kiss her.

"And you know the best part about going out to one of these things with you?" she asked, settling back on the seat to grin at him.

Jack shook his head and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Kelsey lifted her leg to show her foot, encased in a beautiful Jimmy Choo sparkly pump that was at least four inches in height. "I get to wear shoes like this. I'm five ten barefoot, so I go six or over in heels, and most guys don't like for their date to be taller than them, though I don't know why." She gestured at Jack. "With you, though, I can wear any shoes I like, and it doesn't matter."

"And I'll tell you a secret," Jack said, leaning forward to caress her calf and aforementioned foot. "I wouldn't care if you were taller than me. Why would I? Your legs are gorgeous, and your foot in this is just breathtaking." He kissed her foot and put it down. "Be as tall as you like."

They arrived at the hotel, and paused, arm in arm, for a few photographs before entering and going through to the back garden area, where the benefit was being held.

It was one of the glitziest affairs Jack had ever seen. The Los Angeles Philharmonic was sending a small group to perform later, and a huge buffet had been out next to an open bar with half a dozen bartenders. Jack recognized at least one in every three people there from TV or movies. There were palm trees silhouetted against the pink and orange sunset sky, and the whole thing was just too Hollywood to be believed.

Wow.

He walked around with Kelsey, sipping his club soda, nodding and smiling, shaking hands, trying not look too starstruck when he met some idols of his youth.

Kelsey was in her element, showing Jack a side of herself he'd never seen before. She was beautiful and poised, and somehow remembered everyone and their significant other, not to mention details about their lives, too.

"Aren't your feet sore?" Jack asked. "I mean, it's been a couple of hours, and your shoes are really high."

"You're so cute," Kelsey said, laughing. "My feet have been numb for years, coach."

Suddenly she looked distracted, as if she were trying to hear something.

"What?" Jack asked. All he heard was the hubbub of the party, and the orchestra warming up.

"Nothing."

"No, not nothing," Jack said, reaching out and giving her a little shake.

"Okay, well, I just thought I smelled, you know, his--cologne," Kelsey confessed. "I told you, it's nothing, it's dumb, there's no way he's here."

Kelsey had checked with her publicist, and gotten confirmation that Don had left a few weeks ago and was in Mallorca with family.

"It's not dumb," Jack contradicted. "Should we leave?"

"No, of course not," Kelsey said. "I'm just bummed, because it hasn't happened in a while, you know?"

"Kels, be reasonable, it's only been a couple months, stuff like this is bound to happen," Jack said. He pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back gently.

She nodded, though he could still feel her trembling in his arms a little.

"We can leave anytime you want," Jack reminded her, and she nodded again as they moved off to mingle some more.

About an hour later they were talking and laughing with another couple, when Kelsey looked beyond Jack, and her expression fell off her face as if she'd been slapped.

Jack set his drink down on a conveniently passing tray and put his hands on her waist, supporting her in case she fell, which seemed in the realm of possibility. He turned to see what she'd seen, though he thought he had a pretty good idea.

Don Simonsen, drink in hand looking stylish and dapper, as usual, with a cravat instead of a tie, was leaning in to whisper something into the ear of a blonde actress Jack had seen last year in something.

Jack said something to the couple, excusing the two of them, and he turned to Kelsey, his only thought to get her out of there. Her color was ghastly, and he could feel her stomach clenching under his hand, like she was going to vomit.

"Okay, you're okay," he soothed. Part of him wished he were alone, and had no connection to Kelsey at all, no obligation to her happiness, so he could go and beat Don Simonsen to within an inch of his life, beat the smug expression off his face, punch the breath out of his chest, break the bones in his overbearing face. Of course, this didn't make any sense, because if he had no connection to this poor, lovely girl he held, he'd have no desire to do any of those things.

But he'd promised Ray that the story wouldn't come out, that the world wouldn't know what that monster had done to the woman he loved. There couldn't be an arrest, a trial, no publicity that would hurt Kelsey.

They were walking away, toward the hotel, when Kelsey began to quake in his arms. "Jack! I can smell him, Jack, I can. I'm going to be sick--"

Jack changed course, to lead her to a flower bed, which was all he could think of, when they heard a voice that made Kelsey halt in her tracks.

"I think you owe me an explanation, darling."

Kelsey jumped at the hand on her shoulder, and she and Jack turned around to face Don. Even from where he stood, Jack could smell the cologne Kelsey talked about, and he could only imagine how she was suffering.

Don stood before them, and it was obvious from his demeanor, his slightly oily look, that he was more than a little drunk.

"Why do I owe you an explanation?" Kelsey asked, mystified in spite of everything.

"You're mine," Don said, as if that explained everything. "We've been together for nearly two years. Then, suddenly, you're seeing this pool boy?" He sneered in Jack's direction. "It seems you'd wrap those legs around anyone, doesn't it?" He took an unsteady step in Kelsey's direction, and Jack stepped closer to Don, getting in between them as best he could.

They were starting to attract a crowd, and of course, classy function or not, people were recording it. It was Hollywood, after all, and Don and Kelsey were international superstars. Jack was glad that no one was really close enough to hear what the three of them were saying.

"You filthy little whore," Don murmured. Jack's eyes widened. "You cheap little hot pants slut."

He took a deep breath to say something else, but he never got a chance, because Jack had heard enough, and his brain had shut down, his promises to Ray Baker forgotten. Black, righteous smoke rolled in and made him temporarily insane. Jack bent his knees, cocked his arm back, nearly to the ground, and let fly, trying to punch an imaginary person standing behind Don, as Zach had told him to do when they'd discussed fighting a long, long time ago on the roof of the dorm.

Don staggered back from the blow, a look of almost comical amazement on his face. He did recover quickly, though, ignoring the pain. Then Don, who wasn't unversed in the art of fisticuffs, tried to fight back, aware that he was being watched and recorded. He hit Jack in the face and torso a couple of times, but Jack didn't even feel them.

Jack, who'd never been in a fight or hit anyone in his life, hit the other man hard enough to knock him down. Then he was on top of Don, sitting on him, throwing punch after punch at the older man's face and chest. Don was no longer conscious, and each punch was simply turning his face from side to side, blood flying from his mouth. And Jack was furious and so strong, every muscle focused on inflicting pain, causing hurt.

Jack didn't even feel the pain in his hands, though he would later. He just kept picturing Kelsey the way she looked as she lay on the bed when he cleaned her back, tears of shame streaming from her eyes. This miserable excuse for a man had forced himself on her, inside her, made her open her body to him, had damaged her blameless, beautiful spirit.

He felt hands pulling him off, felt the black smoke clearing at last, and saw the evil, damaged man under him.

He rose, yanking his arms out of the grip of the people who held him. A few others knelt next to Don, who was moaning and starting to come around.

Someone from the hotel was speaking to him, and to Kelsey, who was standing next to him, miraculously dry-eyed.

"Listen to me," he was saying. "We'd just as soon not have publicity over this, and no one's called the police yet, thankfully, so if you'll just leave, right now, before Mr. Simonsen wakes up, we might be able to do a little damage control--" he left the sentence open-ended, looking between the two of them.

"Not a problem, Frank," Kelsey said. She took Jack's arm and was already leading him away.

Really?

Jack couldn't believe it. In the real world, there would be security, police, an ambulance. He would surely have spent the night in jail. But this was LaLa Land, Hollywood.

Five minutes later they were in their car and headed home.