I met him in a bar in Lansing, Michigan, it was a Friday night. I had just been turned down by a young lady whom I had asked on a date. Feeling sorry for myself, I walked into the first bar in sight. It was crowded and noisy but I made my way to the counter, hoping to find a seat. There were no seats and no tables, people were standing about, leaning on each other's stools and chattering back and forth. I was in no mood for socialization, I started to push my way towards the exit until a voice stopped me. “You need a seat, mate?”
What was the first thing that I
noticed about Jack? It must have been his voice, for I heard him
before I saw him. It was a pleasant enough voice, friendly and even.
There was a definite affect to it; the clipped endings of an Oxford
education, a slight Irish or Welsh lilt, and Scottish vowel sounds.
These specific qualities were unknown to me at the time—they were a
product of my time with Jack—I merely thought he sounded Canadian.
His appearance matched the affect in his voice, on that night he was
wearing what was to become the stereotypical Newhouse attire; a
perfectly tailored black suit with ghost pin-striping, a tailored
silk shirt, a silk black tie with an impeccable double windsor, black
paisley suspenders, intricately argyled socks, polished leather
wingtips with spats, and a black trilby resting on the bar in front
of him—Jack never wore a hat indoors. He was tall, not so tall to
tower above a crowd and look awkward, simply a few inches more than
most people. His dark brown hair was carefully parted in an archaic
Prussian military cut which seemed to fit him better than any haircut
ever could. His face was handsome, it was not angelic as most people
will tell you; he had a balance of delicate features with an
underlying masculinity which made you hesitate before referring to
him as pretty. His ease and confidence was what made him loved or
hated by all who encountered him. He was leaning back in his chair,
carelessly riffling a pack of cards in one hand while stirring his
cocktail in the other. He leaned over and removed his coat from the
neighboring seat, motioning me to sit.
I hesitated for what must have been a
noticeable amount of time, this was the type of man who prevented me
from getting dates. One look at him left me with the impression that
he had never been turned down by a woman in his life. But his smile
was enchanting, it left one feeling as if they were the only person
who mattered to Jack. I couldn't help it, I thanked him and sat down.
“Not a problem, my friend; I was waiting for a mate to meet me here
but you seem like much better company.” That was Jack, always
willing to show kindness to strangers despite his professed hatred of
humanity. As we sat at the bar together, we conversed amiably; Jack
loathed small talk with a passion so he oftentimes would lapse into silence until a worthy thought entered his mind.
That was the night he first dubbed me Klaus, "Nick, huh?" He seemed to contemplate the name when I introduced myself, "Nicholas, I presume?" I affirmed his presumption. "I already have a friend named Nicholai, so we'll have to call you Klaus; you look krouty enough." He smiled that smile of his that made any protest instantly evaporate before making its way to my lips. To this day, no one other than Jack has ever referred to me as Klaus—despite his attempts to encourage its use.
We were already good friends by the time his friend arrived, Jack introduced us—of course, I was presented as Klaus—and he leaned on the bar, allowing his friend to sit. The friend, Shane, was obviously a mere acquaintance. Jack made friends wherever he went but he rarely allowed anyone to get close to him; he would tell his few close friends that he didn't care about many people so he had to provide us with extra care to make up the difference.
Shane suggested walking around and looking for something interesting to do, Jack admitted his love of rambling and raised his eyebrows at me inquiringly. I went to pay my tab, only to discover that Jack had already managed to pay it without my noticing, my thanks were courteously waved aside as we walked out into the twilit city.
Jack instantly lit up what appeared to be a luxury cigarette from some European extremity, he offered them around and slid them back inside his coat when Shane and I both declined. His flask of French absinthe, however, was not turned down by either of us when proffered. We were soon giggling about nothing at all as we stumbled around aimlessly.
It was Shane who first noticed the girls standing outside of the arcade, at least he was the first to mention them. "They're nice enough," Jack responded instantly, "I might even give the blonde a bit of a discount but I would hardly consider them worthy of approach." I would learn later that Jack was actually completely incapable of approaching women, it simply had never come up for him.
"YOU GIRLS WANT SOME COH-CAIN?" Shane shouted across the street before collapsing in a fit of hysterics. Jack and I both looked at him with disgust.
"Jesus, Shane, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I slurred, hoping none of the passing people took us for rapists. Jack casually crossed the street and rounded the corner into the alley. We followed, Shane looking slightly shame-faced. Jack stopped and leaned against the brick wall to light up a cigarette. We awkwardly stood there for a moment before leaning up against the wall next to him.
"Whatcha doin' there, buddy?" Shane looked terribly confused.
"Having a cigarette, Shane. You simply cannot be too drunk to observe that." Jack was not looking at us, he was casually glancing at the lip of the alley.
"Well, yeah, but why did you stop? I thought we were looking for trouble." Jack glanced at him with a dismissive look in his eyes.
"Trouble, hmmm; not precisely what I had in mind. Don't tell me you failed to see what just happened. Not even you, Klaus?" I had no idea where he was going with this,
"All I saw was Shane making an ass out of himself and the two of us." Jack shook his head and smiled a knowing grin,
"Trust me, lads; I know what I'm about." Just then, the two girls walked into the alley.
"You've got to be shitting me." Shane muttered.
"Did you guys just offer us cocaine?" The less attractive girl asked as the good looking one gravitated towards Jack, stopping inches from his face.
"I did." Shane announced proudly, as if this somehow would impress the girls.
"Can you really get us some?"
"I probably could have, but my friend just moved so I can't anymore." Shane didn't seem to notice how pathetic he sounded. The blonde was now gazing into Jack's eyes,
"Oh my God, you are so sexy." Her voice was slightly slurred but she didn't appear to be more than just a bit tipsy. Jack smiled,
"Yes I am. Can I offer you some absinthe? I feel as if I should play the host since we were in the alley before you entered." The majority of his words washed over her as she took a swallow from his flask. She made a face and took his cigarette,
"This cigarette tastes better than that drink, it's gross!" He looked at her with slightly lenient reproach,
"I presume that results from a lack of sophistication on your part." She adoringly hung on every word of his insult as if he was reciting a sonnet to her.
"We have to go," the less attractive girl called to her friend, "my boyfriend is calling and he's going to wonder where we are." The blonde waved her aside, and leaned forward. Her baseball hat hit Jack in the face. He laughed casually,
"M'dear, if you are going to attempt to kiss me, at least remove your cap." She glowed at this, took her hat off and placed it backwards on Jack's head—his hat had been knocked off during her attempted kiss. After smiling at him in her hat, she proceeded to kiss him fervently while running her hands all along his torso. Shane, the ugly girl, and I stood there awkwardly as the blonde started to unbutton Jack's shirt.
"We really have to leave now, he's calling me again." The less attractive girl interrupted. Jack's new acquaintance looked at her with a pout, glanced over Shane, instantly dismissing him, and then looked at me,
"Tell him that I'm arranging a three way!" Jack looked at her with slight disgust,
"The odds of that are quite slim, love. I will not be placing my erect penis anywhere near these two gentlemen and your friend has already revealed that she has a boyfriend."
"I have a boyfriend too." The girl proudly announced. Jack seemed incredibly amused by this revelation,
"Really?" The girl pulled a small lock on a chain out from her shirt.
"See? I have a lock." Jack frowned,
"I have no idea what that means, and I failed to pay any attention to it, choosing to observe your cleavage instead." The girl giggled and placed his hand on her breasts,
"It means I have a boyfriend, silly." Jack thought about this for a moment,
"Interesting. How faithful are you to this boyfriend?" She giggled again and went back to kissing and groping him. Eventually, her friend grabbed her and pulled her away,
"We have to get you out of here before you blow this guy." The blonde reached for Jack,
"I totally would!"
"Perhaps you should go with your friend, now; I try not to make a habit of taking advantage of inebriated young ladies." Jack bowed to her.
"I'm going to take advantage of you!" She yelled and grabbed at his crotch before her friend succeeded in pulling her back into the arcade.
Shane and I were both gaping at Jack. He looked at us with nonchalant amusement,
"Well lads, shall we proceed?" That was my first of many nights out with Jack Newhouse.
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