Six Feet Under the Stars

"This is just... wrong." The menu in front of my nose was pristine and the color of pea soup as it screened my face from Jack behind an opaque blocade of green.

"What, us being on a date?" The scowl on Jack's face set in quickly like an instant Jell-O mold. "If it's really going to be a problem, I guess we can--."

"No, no. I meant the restaurant trying to sell macaroni and cheese for thirty dollars a plate. Unless the price of cheese and noodles has risen five hundred percent, I'd say this is a ploy to rake in profits."

"Well, this is called le cœur de la mer." His french was a little hesitant but had the ring of high-society and class, much like the restaurant itself.

Le cœur de la mer occupied a corner of a busy street with ornate street lamps on either side of the door. Plant life cascaded in frilly green leaves down in front of the swirly windows. The glass was translucent to give the restaurant an older world touch.

A hostess with hazel eyes and frizzy chestnut hair had greeted us with a thick French accent upon our entry and guided us through a grandiose dining room to an empty table near the middle of the room. With the promise of a coming waitress, the hostess left us to scanning over the menus and awe at the decorations.

The ornamentation was delicate with ironwork touches around the room. White table clothes kept the table clean and crisp while the glowing candle in an intricate holder gave the air a warm glow. Waitors bustled back and forth from the kitchen, always leaving with a smile on their faces as not to frighten the guests with the busy chaos going on behind the scenes. In high class restaurants it was imperitive for the staff to keep a relaxed, controlled demeanor.

With jeans and a sweatshirt on, I felt frumpy and out of place like I should have been at the drive thru of some nameless fast food chain instead of drinking bubbling champagne with Jack in authentic France. He tapped his glass against mine with a ching, wrenching me away from more self-conscious introspection. "Is this too expensive?" I questioned in hushed tone as the price for a steak read close to sixty dollars.

Waving a hand, Jack scanned the menu items quickly but seemed undecided about what to get. "No, it's fine. I've always wanted to splurge on something like this and now's a good a time as any. Though I'm not really sure what any of this says."

Having only taken two years of French in high school, my brain was having trouble decoding the words and interpreting the food back into English. It took me five minutes to connect one line together, and even then it was 'Tete de Veau' which roughly translated meant 'calf's head.' I shuddered. "I'm not sure what to order either."

A group of three staff members eyed us from across the room and their mouths moved in rapid-fire French. Intuition told me they were discussing the probability of their new shabby guests skipping out on the check. With a wide grin, a waitress approached from the opposite side of the table, catching the two of us off-guard. Her name-tag spelled out Stella. "What can I get for you two? Any appetizers?"

Admitting defeat, Jack closed the menu over and rested it on the table cloth as if it were as uncomprehendable as college level calculus. "Anything that's good."

She blinked a few times. "Sir, I don't understand. Do you want everything?"

Capriciously changing hs mind at the last moment, Jack smiled politely at her, "Just another bottle of champagne, please."

The waitress nodded. "Right away, sir."

She turned on her heal and scuttled away resembling a mouse running from a cat. Sighing, I closed my menu too and resigned myself to people-watch the various guests from society poising delicately on their chairs. The furniture was designed for looks, not comfort. A few faces were recognizable from television shows or nightly news reporters but most of the company were just the average rich person enjoying a meal out on the town.

"Melanie?"

"Hmm?"

"I asked you a question." Jack's lip quirked at the corner.

I fiddled with the complicated folds in the napkin resting on the unused, empty plate setting. "Sorry. Just got distracted."

"I asked if you wanted to take the alcohol to-go and get out of here. I'm feeling a little stiffled to be honest."

I sighed in relief. "Yes. I was just thinking that."

With a grin, Jack waved over a waitor and asked for the bill. The man seemed a little confused by the request but got the affairs together nonetheless. After leaving a hefty tip for the trouble, Jack and I retreated to the safe unfamiliarity of Seattle with the chilled bottle of champagne in one hand. He cracked the neck of the bottle against the corner of a brick building and the beverage fizzed out over the concrete like a geyser.

Laughing, I dodged the falling alcohol while it splattered the asphalt in wet drops like paint against a blank canvas. Jack took the first swig from the jagged opening careful not to cut his lips on the sharp edges before he handed it to me. The drink bubbled down my throat happily and after kicking off one bottle already at the restaurant, the extra draught of booze began to make me feel buzzed and light-headed. I welcomed the feeling like embracing an old friend who doesn't visit very often.

The two of us stumbled down the sidewalk making a slightly drunk pair while laughing at everything it seemed. Somewhere along the way we passed a sign into Waterfront Park which had curving railings running on for what seemed like miles. The sky opened up in front of us just as the water sparkled in ahead of us like a sea of diamonds. We took refuge on a bench as it startled to drizzle again. There was nothing we could do to prevent us from getting wet so we just accepted it.

Rain misted down onto my face, weighing down my curly hair on my shoulders. Jack looked quite content to be there though his hair began piecing over his forehead like thick fingers. The two of us huddled on the wooden bench and shivered in unison as we shook in reaction to the freezing spray. The last of the champagne was finished off quickly, slightly watered down from the sprinkles that had enough precision to sneak into the bottles open neck. "Sorry the date kind of got... delayed."

Still feeling the effects of the alcohol, I laughed airily, "This still is a date. Honestly, I'm having more fun walking around out here with you half drunk than sitting in that stuffy restaurant and ordering dinner for an arm and a leg."

"I don't know. I thought it might impress you or something. Despite having all those girls around at parties and everything, I really have no idea what to do. Like, I just have so much built up anxiety about it all. I end up making a joke which basically fucks everything over." He admitted sheepishly under the influence of the champagne.

"Jack," Pausing, I took a moment to squeeze his slippery, rain-coated fingers with mine. "You don't have to be nervous around me. As lame as it sounds, just be yourself."

With another returning squeeze of the hand, Jack chuckled into the rainfall musically, "It does sound a little lame. Like something you'd hear in a Disney movie or something."

The fact that Jack still held my hand didn't pass me by. I took a deep breath, "This is a little scary."

He seemed relieved I had pointed out the obvious. "I know. For years I've just been worrying about getting from gig to gig and all the faces just blend into one after a while. The experiences mix in a big blob. This sounds fucking ridiculous, but your humor just really caught me off-guard."

Crossing my legs, I shifted my position and asked quietly, "Really?"

Jack nodded, "Shit, I think I'm drunk, Melanie. Maybe you should stop me before I say something stupid again. I think I'm just saying too much already and I should stop. But once I get a few drinks in, my mouth just won't shut up."

I laughed easily, "It's nice. A lot of times inhibitions hold us back in life. In a way, it's sort of a shame that people drink to take down the walls."

"Or to feel numb."

"That too. It's a fucking shame. Why can't we all just realize people are people? Trying to hide who you are is such a damn problem in this world. So, please. Keep talking." Urging him forth, I was happy to see a smile reappear on Jack's pink lips.

Almost childlike, he rested his head on my shoulder and when he continued on his words seemed so much closer to the heart, "It was bound to happen. You and Alex, I mean. I knew it would. And that's fine. Hell, I love the guy like a brother. Sometimes I think we're related even. But everyone immediately crowds around him. And sometimes... a lot actually, I just feels like I'm always coming in second."

This conversation was getting more deep moment after moment. I hailed the booze as the culprit, but didn't mind the results of the medium for opening the conversation. I just wished it was happier subjects that made more sense. "That's not true. Someone is going to come and knock you off your feet. Alex might get more girls, but it's not really about the number at the end of the day."

Jack's answering laugh was sad, "There's plenty of girls, I just don't trust them. They're after my money, not my lame jokes about the weather outside. They care about my fame, not how I manage to burn toast everytime I use the toaster. I dunno... I really am drunk, Melanie."

"I think you already said that."

"Probably did." He smiled up at me from my shoulder in a lazy way and a raindrop pattered against his cheek like a trailing tear. Carefully, I wiped the moisture off of his skin with gentle fingers that barely brushed against him. Breathing deeply, Jack spoke with his eyes closed, "I really want to kiss you right now, Melanie."

My heart skipped. "Jack..."

"Is that fucked up? I mean, my best friend--."

"You can't always worry about Alex. And I'm not just saying that because I want to kiss you too. But sometimes you have to think about yourself. If you always put others first then you'll always end up being last."

Another grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, "You want to kiss me?"

Red rose to my cheeks like a blossoming flower, "Did you listen to anything else I just said? It was sort of important. Like a pep talk before a football game."

Jack chuckled and his head bobbed against my shoulder, "Well, you don't look like a middle aged man coaching on the sidelines to me. But then again..."

Quickly, I whacked his arm and focused on the hazy view of the water in the distance. "Try to stay on topic."

Jack nestled closer and scoffed, "You're just as drunk as me."

"That's beside the point."

"Okay, okay." Goodnaturedly, Jack rolled his eyes and finally sat back up straight while facing me on the bench and resting a hand along its wooden back, "Would you want to go on another date with me?"

"Well, I don't know how I feel." I warned him honestly.

"I'm alright with that. I want to take things slow too. Let's just see where it goes after a couple more dates. We don't have to label anything. It'll be stress free."

I wasn't sure 'stress free' were the right words to describe it. But all in all, Jack's plan didn't sound too bad: Go on harmless dates while the two of us sort out what we felt for the other. There was only one potential problem. "What about Alex?"

"Well..." Jack took an extended moment to chew over the obstacle in his mind before replying slowly and delicately, "What if we just, you know, didn't tell him?"

"Date behind his back?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, there's no point worrying him about something we don't even know will happen yet. I say we just feel it out ourselves and if things work," he shrugged, "then we'll go from there."

For some reason, my tipsy mind thought that made perfect sense and ignored the red flags that flashed up. My brain was screaming obsenities at me and finally before agreeing, I shook my head. "No, no. We're just drunk, that's all. Let's really discuss it when we're sober."