-Arriving at the Red Velvet, Juniper puts it in park and steps out, a valet taking the car keys from him- “Here it is.” -It’s a fancy building with low lighting and beautiful decor with sections separated for the cigar smokers and the bar strictly for drinking. He leads Jack inside and walks up to the bar to order a scotch before turning to Jack- “What’ll you have?”
Standing a short ways back from the bar, Jack fidgeted nervously for a moment. As he’d told the other man, he didn’t drink as a habit, but he didn’t want Juniper to think he was a wimp by ordering something non-alcoholic. But what to order? He hated the taste of beer and scotch. Wine was okay – they’d served it at many of the galas when he was in New York – but he knew bars weren’t known for their fine vintages.
“Uh … a mojito?” He’d tried those, and they were usually okay. He just hoped a cocktail wouldn’t seem too girly.
The bartender nodded as he walked to make their drinks, Juniper raising his eyebrow but deciding not to comment on the choice. Rum, sugar, mint and water – he hadn’t really had many of them but he had seen them plenty of times and the way it tended to be served at least hid the slightly girly ingredients.
“They’ll deliver our drinks to us so let’s go find a seat,” he instructed Jack, leading the way to a lonely booth table though soft, classical music gave way to more ambiance. He sat down on one side and straightened his cigar jacket.
Due to the summer heat, the blue artist had given up his usual turtlenecks for a loose black poet shirt, buttoned down the front. He nervously adjusted the collar before taking a seat across from Juniper. Having a private booth did ease his nervousness a bit, but it didn’t ebb completely.
“This seems n-nice.” God, he hated stuttering in front of the actor. “So, erm … you said you’ve heard of my work?”
Jack Maple 