Jack couldn't believe his eyes. There is no way in hell that's her, he told himself. But unless Rose DeWitt Bukater had a long lost twin, it was her. Thirteen years had passed since he'd seen her, but he'd never forget her face. She looked like a whole new person. Her long red curls had been straightened and cut into a bob. Gone were her corset and expensive clothing. They had been replaced by a shorter dress and stockings worn below her knees. The woman whose life he had saved was on the stage in front of him, singing and dancing. Despite a fear that she might not remember him, he knew he had to at least say hello.
Rose finished her number and the speakeasy erupted in applause. It was a sound she was in love with. She heard guys whistling and hollering for more. She peered into the audience to see if there was anyone she found attractive enough to flirt with. Seeing no one at the moment, she exited the stage and made her way to the bar. Eventually, she'd mingle with the crowd.
"Rico. Give me a hair of the dog, will ya?" The bartender nodded and poured Rose a shot of alcohol. Rico slid the glass over to Rose and she grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. She took one, placed it in her long cigarette holder, and lit it before handing the pack back to him.
"You sure know how to treat the crowd, doll," Rico complimented her. Rose laughed and grabbed her drink. She turned and leaned against the bar, searching the crowd. She thought she saw a blond-haired man heading towards her, but a woman stopped him and engaged him in conversation before she was able to get a good look at his face. Rose downed her drink and turned back around for a refill.
"Rose DeWitt Bukater," said a voice suddenly next to her. She stopped herself from jumping at the use of her former name. Looking for a stage name, she'd changed her name to Rose Hart when she went to California. As far as she was concerned, Rose DeWitt Bukater was dead, as was Rose Hockley.
"Don't know her," she replied, without looking at the man who said it. "Wouldn't tell ya if I did." She heard the man chuckle and turned to face him. There was something familiar about his face. Locking eyes with him, a memory thrust itself forward in her mind. "Jack? Jack Dawson?" Jack smiled at her recollection. Rose found herself returning the smile.
"You remember," he said smoothly. Before Rose could stop herself, she was throwing her arms around him to hug him. "How are ya?"
"Just berries, Jack!" She turned to Rico. "Two martinis, Rico," she ordered. "I never thought I'd see you again," she told Jack, turning back to face him.
Jack laughed. "Small world," he joked. Rico placed the drinks on the bar and Rose grabbed them, handing one to Jack. "Thanks."
Rose grabbed his hand and led him to a table in a semi-lit corner. "So, Jack, how did you manage to get off that damned ship?"
"I didn't. I was on it until it sank. I found a piece of a door and stayed on it until a lifeboat picked me up. I almost didn't make it." Jack took a sip of his martini before going on. "I'm guessing you got in a lifeboat?"
Rose nodded. "Absolutely." She was about to go on when a whistle blew. "Shit!" She stood and grabbed his hand. "We gotta beat it. Raid." Jack, of course, knew what that whistle meant, as he had escaped raids before. The speakeasy erupted in chaos as everyone scattered in every direction. Rose hopped up on the chair and saw that the exit was open. "C'mon, Jack. My breezer's out back."
Jack let her lead him through the crowd. He was impressed with how swiftly she moved through the insanity. Before he knew it, she kicked the back door open. As they rushed out the door, they heard the FBI announce their presence towards the front of the joint.
Rose hopped over the driver's side door, as she left the top down on her car, and Jack followed suit. She reached under her seat for a spare key and found it. Turning the ignition, she slammed on the gas and the car squealed away from the speakeasy.
There's that rush I love, Jack thought. And I got this doll with me. He looked over at Rose, who was steering her way through the dark city streets. "Not your first raid, is it?"
She laughed. "No. Why? Was it yours?" she teased.
"Not the first time I've been on the lam, Rose," he told her with a laugh. "Where are we going?"
Rose shrugged. She considered driving to her apartment, but it was too close to the speakeasy. An idea came to her. "Where do you live?" Jack didn't ask why she asked. Instead, he rattled off his address. She nodded. "Far enough away. My place is too close," she explained. Jack nodded in agreement, and relaxed as they drove farther away. Neither of them said anything further, but they both were deep in thought.
I only met her once. Thirteen years ago. How in the hell? She's got a whole new attitude. She sure is a bearcat.
He stopped me from jumping off the Titanic. Now we're blowing the joint. It's been over a decade. He's still a good looking fellow. Oh...horse feathers!
Rose easily found Jack's place and slammed on the brakes. If the cops found them, it would be awhile. Her only concern was the hot engine of the car. The night was chilly, though, so she hoped it would cool quickly. In unison, she and Jack got out of the car. Quickly, she put the top of the car back in place. Jack held the door open for her and she ran inside.
"Third floor," he directed. Rose made it up the stairs quickly, Jack on her heels. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside before closing and locking the door behind them.
Completely out of breath, Rose saw his beat up couch and collapsed on it. Despite the cool air, she was hot from running. Jack stood there, hands on hips, catching his breath. He looked over at Rose, who was now leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. She felt his eyes on her and made eye contact with him. After about five seconds, they burst into laughter.