It was, in truth, a most alarming prospect. After a mere 2 months of being her “Gentlemen Friend” as she put it, Jessica had extended the invitation with an eagerness that I suspected was fraught with a certain peril: “I’d love for you to come and hang out with my friends, Percival. It’s just Blake and Ruby, who you’ve met, and one other guy. We’re meeting at a small pub this Friday. Come along. I think they’d really… well, enjoy you.”
“Would they indeed?” I replied, measuring her words carefully. Jessica, in turn, gave me a smile of such dubious encouragement that I was forced to raise an eyebrow.
Now, Friday evening had come, and I stood before The Owl’s Roost, a modestly modern establishment whose name and promise of “craft cocktails” left me feeling more perturbed than intrigued. It was no gentlemen’s club, of that I was certain, nor was it a private parlor with well-padded seats and respectable table service. Nevertheless, a gentleman honors his commitments, and I would meet Jessica’s friends with the gallantry and composure that the Humphreys line demanded.
Inside, a small coterie was gathered, clustered around a narrow table beneath dim amber lighting. Jessica waved me over, and I approached, nodding politely, like an emissary from a foreign land.
“Everyone,” she began with a warm smile, “this is Percival. Percival, these are my friends from the theater. Blake and Ruby, you know, and this is Trevor” She gestured gracefully toward each of them in turn, and I did my best to conceal my surprise as I took in the ensemble before me.
I offered a courteous bow, for I could hardly shake their hands while I was gloved. “A pleasure to see you again. Nice to meet you Trevor,” I intoned with stately reserve.
“So, um… Percival,” Ruby ventured, leaning forward and flashing Jessica a half-smile. “I noticed last time you’re a bit of a throwback.”
“A throwback?” I repeated, perturbed by her choice of phrase. “I assure you, madam, that while I may honor certain traditions, I am fully aligned with the present time. For instance, I-well, I recently acquired a telephone of the mobile variety.” I nodded proudly, as if this small technological leap had cemented my modernity beyond all question.
“Impressive,” Blake smirked, taking a sip of what appeared to be a drink so luridly blue that I wondered if it might glow in the dark. “Have you learned how to text yet?”
“Text, sir?” I narrowed my eyes slightly. “I daresay I have avoided that particular vice. My correspondence is written, either in fine ink or through direct conversation, as any gentleman would have it.”
Jessica, sensing the chill in my tone, laid a gentle hand upon my arm. “Percival,” she interjected smoothly, “my friends are, well, just curious about… you.”
“Indeed?” I replied, meeting her gaze with a smile of faint indulgence. “And what, pray tell, do they wish to know?”
Trevor grinned, leaning on the table his curiosity evident. “How did you and Jessica meet?”
“Oh, you’re not gonna believe this…” Blake trailed off.
“A fortuitous encounter at the Tipsy Beaver,” I replied, glancing toward Jessica with a nod that I hoped conveyed both respect and fond recollection. “An establishment much like this one we are in now. Not one of my usual haunts, naturally, but I had come into possession of her purse that I assume was stolen and endeavored to return it to her, but alas, I did not anticipate how thoroughly I would be charmed by her.”
Jessica rolled her eyes, though I caught the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Charmed,” she repeated dryly. “Oh god, Ruby, remember how I started that Tipsy Beaver conversation? First thing out of my mouth: ‘I’m not in the mood to get hit on.”
Trevor nearly choked on his drink, grinning. “And you still went for it, man? You are bold.”
“Well,” I said, smoothing my waistcoat with a faint air of dignity, “she apologized shortly thereafter. I found her candor refreshing.”
Jessica snorted, shaking her head. “Candor. That’s one way to put it.”
Ruby nodded. “She was so … let’s say direct. I wouldn’t have blamed Percival if he just gave up and tossed her purse in the nearest bin.”
“But he didn’t, and we ended up chatting for the rest of the night,” Jessica explained.
“And what happened after we left?” Ruby asked, leaning forward with an eager grin. “Did she just melt into your old-school charm?”
“Hardly,” Jessica replied with a laugh. “We ended up talking for hours about everything from theater to whether pineapple belongs on pizza.”
“And for the record,” I interjected, raising a hand, “it does not.”
“Wrong,” Jessica said quickly, smirking at me. “But that was just one of our many arguments that night.”
“I prefer to think of them as spirited debates,” I corrected. “And I thoroughly enjoyed every moment.”
Blake raised his glass with a nod. “All right, I’ll give you credit for sticking it out. That’s not easy to pull off.”
Jessica glanced at me, her expression softening for a moment. “Yeah, well, he grew on me. Turns out, he’s pretty hard to shake once he gets started.”
“Persistence,” I said lightly, offering a small smile. “Another hallmark of the gentleman.”
Trevor leaned forward, his tone shifting to one of genuine curiosity. “So, Jessica, how’s it been going for you since the last show? I thought for sure you’d be all over the casting boards by now.”
Jessica’s posture shifted slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “It’s been… slow,” she admitted, her voice carefully even. “Auditions haven’t really panned out, but I’m staying optimistic. You know how it is.”
Blake frowned slightly, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, but didn’t you kill it in Lion King? You should be getting callbacks.”
I glanced toward Jessica, sensing her unease as she shrugged. “I was only a background character, and even then sometimes it doesn’t matter how well you do. It’s about being in the right place at the right time, and right now… it’s just not happening.” Her tone was casual, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration that struck me unexpectedly. This world of hers, where talent and effort were at the mercy of chance, seemed far too chaotic for someone as capable as Jessica.
“Surely,” I began, “there must be someone who could be persuaded to recognize your abilities. Connections, perhaps? A recommendation from a peer or patron?”
Jessica shook her head, her voice firm. “That’s not how it works. I appreciate the thought, but this is something I have to do myself.”
The table fell quiet for a beat, and I felt the faint sting of her words, though I realized her tone had been measured, not harsh. Even so, her resolve left me feeling, for a moment, woefully out of my depth.
Ruby broke the silence, smiling at Jessica. “Well, their loss. You’ll blow them away when they finally get their act together.”
“So Percival, what are your typical haunts?” Blake inquired, his tone straddling genuine interest and thinly veiled incredulity.
I straightened slightly in my chair, prepared to respond with the same honesty I endeavored to bring to all things. “On a typical weekend evening, you may find me at the Atheneum Gentlemen’s Club,” I said, as if the name alone should convey the establishment’s impeccable reputation.
Blake suppressed a laugh, turning to Trevor with a smirk. “Guess that explains the suit.”
Trevor chuckled, while Ruby bit her lip, her grin widening.
Jessica shot the three of them a look that was equal parts warning and amusement, and the laughter quickly subsided. “The way I see it, he puts effort into how he presents himself. If a guy can’t even be bothered to change out of sweatpants and a hoodie in public, how much effort is he going to put into dating me? At least with Percival, I know he’s taking me-and us-seriously.”
Unperturbed, I merely adjusted my cuffs, allowing a faint smile to play at my lips. “Indeed, I do believe the suit speaks to the enduring importance of presenting oneself with a measure of dignity, no matter the occasion.”
Blake leaned back in his chair, his tone now laced with a feigned nonchalance. “Never been to the Atheneum. You think they’d let someone like me in?”
“They barely let you in here, mate,” Trevor interjected with a grin, earning another round of chuckles.
I inclined my head toward Blake, my expression entirely sincere. “I would be more than happy to acquire an application for you. Or-if Jessica permits-our next drink session shall be at the Atheneum.”
Jessica, seated beside me, shook her head lightly, her expression caught somewhere between bemusement and affection. “Percival, I think what Blake is really asking is… how does the Atheneum compare to The Owl’s Roost?”
The question landed like a gentle jab, and I caught the mischievous glint in her eye. “Ah,” I said, my tone measured as I contemplated her words. “A comparison, is it? Very well. The Atheneum, I assure you, is a bastion of refinement and intellect. A place where conversations are conducted with grace, and the décor is-if I may be so bold-entirely free of antlers and neon beer signs.”
Jessica stifled a laugh, and even Blake cracked a smile. “So you’re saying it’s missing a certain… rustic charm?” Jessica teased.
“Rustic, indeed,” I replied, allowing myself a small chuckle. “Though I suspect the Roost’s charms are better appreciated in moderation.”
Blake leaned forward, raising his glass as though proposing a toast. “Well, here’s to moderation, then. And to suits, Atheneums, and keeping this gentleman thoroughly out of his comfort zone.”
I raised my own glass, my smile widening just slightly. “A toast I can gladly endorse.”
Jessica’s hand brushed against mine beneath the table, her touch fleeting but warm. “Don’t let them tease you too much, Percival,” she murmured, her voice low enough for only me to hear. “I quite like you just the way you are.”
“Forgive me,” I interjected, nodding toward Blake’s glass. “Is it customary in your society to imbibe drinks of such… intensity in hue? Might I inquire as to what exactly that substance is?”
Blake lifted his glass, grinning mischievously. “This? It’s a Blue Lagoon. It’s, uh, vodka and blue curaçao.”
“Curaçao?” I repeated, momentarily disarmed. “In my day, spirits were clear or amber, but a beverage the color of an ink spill seems positively unnatural.” I paused, thoughtful. “Does it taste of blueberries, then?”
Trevor nearly choked on his laughter, while Blake shook his head. “Not really. It just tastes like… I don’t know. Sweet and alcoholic.”
“Ah. Sweet and alcoholic. A marriage of excess, as it were,” I replied with a sigh, turning to Jessica. “My dear, would you perhaps direct me to a more traditional refreshment? A gin and tonic, or perhaps a brandy?”
Jessica’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned closer. “Oh, Percival,” she chuckled, giving my arm a light squeeze. “This is an adventure for both of us. How about trying a taste of the Blue Lagoon? Just a sip?”
I regarded the glass warily, its unnerving hue shimmering under the café lights. “I think not,” I said with an air of finality. “That particular shade calls to mind certain…cleaning solutions I dare not name, and the thought of imbibing it shakes me to my core. I shall remain steadfast with my whiskey and brandy, thank you very much.”
Her friends erupted into laughter, Blake raising his glass in mock salute. “Fair enough, Percival. Can’t say I blame you.”
Jessica’s hand found mine beneath the table, her fingers warm against my own.
As the night wore on and the laughter continued, I began to sense something beyond the amusement of her friends. Though their curious glances and playful jabs cast me as a sort of oddity, Jessica’s gaze remained steady, filled with a warmth that suggested something more. In her eyes, I was not a relic to be mocked but a companion in this strange, shared adventure-an adventure that, I realized, was already shaping me in ways I had not anticipated.