Jack
This is post 8 of Section I. To begin at the beginning, go here.
“O. k., o. k.,” said a voice, cutting Stephen off in the middle of his “Enchanté.” An older copy of Stephen emerged into the foyer lights, self-consciously pushing back a boyish thatch of brown hair. “Ça suffit. Parlons anglais maintenant.” Then, to the Bennetts, “You must excuse us, but Saturday is normally French day.” Jack stuck out his hand much in the way Gwen had, Bennett noticed. “Hello Professor, Ms. Bennett. I’m Jack. Like a drink?”
Bennett shook hands, warming to the man in spite of himself. Jack had a way of getting to the point that was refreshing nowadays. Of course, he thought, as they settled on the overstuffed chintz in the living room, he must steel himself for “something fruity,” as his son always put it. As long as it was a natural color and minus umbrella.
But just then Jack turned from the bar, pitcher in hand. “Martinis all right? I’ve made a pitcher-full, and Robert says if he has anything stronger than a wine cooler he won’t answer for the culinary consequences. Stirred, not shaken, of course. Wouldn’t want to bruise the vermouth—what there is of it.” He gave Bennett a conspiratorial grin, and Bennett found himself grinning back.
Gwen, sitting beside him, squeezed his hand, but he declined to give her the satisfaction of facing her “I told you you’d like him” look.
Continue
“O. k., o. k.,” said a voice, cutting Stephen off in the middle of his “Enchanté.” An older copy of Stephen emerged into the foyer lights, self-consciously pushing back a boyish thatch of brown hair. “Ça suffit. Parlons anglais maintenant.” Then, to the Bennetts, “You must excuse us, but Saturday is normally French day.” Jack stuck out his hand much in the way Gwen had, Bennett noticed. “Hello Professor, Ms. Bennett. I’m Jack. Like a drink?”
Bennett shook hands, warming to the man in spite of himself. Jack had a way of getting to the point that was refreshing nowadays. Of course, he thought, as they settled on the overstuffed chintz in the living room, he must steel himself for “something fruity,” as his son always put it. As long as it was a natural color and minus umbrella.
But just then Jack turned from the bar, pitcher in hand. “Martinis all right? I’ve made a pitcher-full, and Robert says if he has anything stronger than a wine cooler he won’t answer for the culinary consequences. Stirred, not shaken, of course. Wouldn’t want to bruise the vermouth—what there is of it.” He gave Bennett a conspiratorial grin, and Bennett found himself grinning back.
Gwen, sitting beside him, squeezed his hand, but he declined to give her the satisfaction of facing her “I told you you’d like him” look.
Continue
posted by Hobbes at 6:31 PM
8 Comments:
wow, why have I never seen this. I will have to start reading it tomorrow from the beginning.
You don't use these comments to teach your children how not to spell do you?
A plot twist, or turn. Robert met someone he liked! But drunks always like each other, at first.
When I read, "I'm Jack. Like a drink?" I thought it might be a statement like: I'm Jack, like THE drink, Jack Daniels. But I guess this is too classy for that.
Alice: Thanks. No, I don't, or maybe they'd spell better. My good spelling genes seem to have been diluted by Dr. Weirsdo's dyslexia.
T&I: Right, mostly. Strictly Tanqueray martinis, as will be mentioned later.
If there's a dog, it should be named Asta.
The enchante reminds me of Bullets Over Broadway where Jennifer Tilly's character constantly introduces herself with "chawmed, chawmed"
Doug: About Asta: Like in The Thin Man movies? Aren't they great?
About Bullets Over Broadway: Never saw it, but sounds apt.
Exactly that Asta. I used the Thin Man in a guest post on Gabriel's site. I think you'd love Bullets over Broadway as long as you don't have issues with supporting perpetrators of incest.
Not when they're Woody Allen and it's one of his good films. I'll keep an eye out for it.
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