Jackie Kennedy Eating Metal Novels & Stories

Every time the heavy oak front door swung open, her heart gave a small, traitorous leap. "Order up, Jess! Stop daydreaming before someone throws a coaster at you," Jackie called out, balancing a tray of loaded fries and three IPAs. Jackie looked like a queen even in a greasy tavern apron. Her long hair tied back in a high, bouncing ponytail, and her skin was dusted with a light sheen of sweat from the heat of the kitchen. "I’m not daydreaming," Jesse muttered, grabbing two chilled mugs. "I’m on edge. Jackie, I’m telling you, that guy was watching me. He was right there in the parking lot."

But even though Cat was her age, she couldn’t even think about talking about sex, or anything remotely connected to it. “I…uh…thank you. Yes, Bobby brought me more out of my shell.” Jackie smiled and then tried to focus on the meal, but her stomach was just too twisted up to eat. And try as she might to keep Bobby from glancing her way to notice it, he still did. And the more she didn’t eat, the more he frowned.

"I will set aside a share of the food. You will get your piece." The smell hit her then. Metal, rot, and char sat heavy in the air. Years in a hospital had trained her nose. Nausea climbed into her throat. "No need." The words dropped without emotion. Jack laughed like a man with nothing solid left inside him. "Such pride, Dr. Kerr. You will eat eventually. Either you eat now or you freeze to death."

I’ve finished stitching up all of Kennedy’s wounds, adding antibiotics to her IV drip since Echo is silent, and I’m drawing blood when Quirin walks back in, clean and dressed. He pulls a chair over and takes Kennedy’s hand. “The others just arrived. I sent them to the showers, but the pack should be connecting to Kennedy, holding on to her and to Echo,” he says. “Do you know if she ever ate?” I ask him. I’ve never seen Kennedy’s hands shake like I saw when she was doing the C-section for her pack member. “She barely ate anything. She didn’t have time, Luna,” he says, his eyes never leaving Kennedy.

They would have all the dirt on Isabella Domitia. "Explain," I said, snapping my fingers at Miriam. It took me everything to bite back my excitement. "Sometime before she went on that date with Mr Lake," Miriam continued, "she barged out of a sleepover being held at one of her friends' home. Jacqueline Kennedy, though she prefers to be known as Jackie. I don't have the details, but they quarrelled about something, and she left in the middle of the night. Later that week, she hosted a party at the Domitia mansion and invited her friends including Jackie, and they seemed to be getting along until they stopped talking again. Around the time those pictures of her and Mr Lake were released."

Everything was black. She was lying on something soft. Someone was caressing her cheek. She heard familiar voices. “I told her to eat a small breakfast,” Jackie said with worry. “She hasn’t eaten?” Matt asked. “I saw her eat two pop tarts an hour before the ceremony,” Jodi said. “She didn’t faint from malnutrition. She fainted from shock.”

She still didn't understand what was happening and somehow that made everything worse. Slowly the door opened. Kennedy stepped inside. Behind him came a maid carrying a silver tray. The smell of food immediately filled the room. Fresh food, juice and tea. Enough to feed three people. The maid carefully placed everything on the small sitting table before quietly stepping back. Shannon didn't move, didn't even glance at the food and Kennedy noticed. A faint smile appeared on his face. "It isn't poison." Shannon stared at him unimpressed. "That's exactly what someone with poison would say."