Who Am I? » [Stucky]

47. Evening Drama

"A table for two, booked under 'Rogers', please," Steve requested politely at the front desk.

"This place is amazing..." Bucky said in a hushed voice to Steve's raising his mouth close to his ear.

A harmonious jazz vibe hung in the air, coming from the petite ensemble in the corner. The tinkly twinkly sound of keys of the piano filled the air as the pianist played smooth swift glissando sweeps and speedy trills in blues scales like a virtuoso. The drum kit was lightly tapped, the symbols tapped lightly to set a calm solid pulse. A bassist plucked along rhythmically, a saxophonist soloed proficiently and a guitarist played along too, idly improvising a section in the correct key. The swing vibe filled the place. It was pleasant and romantic.

Every table was deigned with a perfect blood red rose in a long thin antiquated elegant crystalline glass vase, petals beautifully arranged on the freshly opened bud. A small tea light candle sat next to it, dimly illuminating the small square of space on the table top.

The place was warm and snug and had heaters dotted about the place sparsely as a contingency, trying to prepare the citizens of New York for the oncoming winter.

The whole bar had a tranquil and relaxed vibe, with the low, mostly candlelit, lighting, the serene tempered music and the restful customers nattering in quieted voices, keeping their conversations secluded and filling the room with a quiet buzz of voices.

The valet stood at his little wooden podium, stuffed with pens and paper and flipped through his well-organised clipboard, a pen tip tracing the column with the names and times.

"8:30?" The older gentleman inquired, peering over his glasses sourly.

"Yes," Steve agreed.

"You're a little early... But right this way, sirs..." The man in his badly fitted tuxedo led them over to a small table the back of the restaurant, squeezing between the tightly packed tables, getting customers to scooch further in towards their tables as they went. They managed to negotiate the maze and reached their place.

The man pulled out either finely trimmed wooden seat and gestured for the pair of them to sit down.

"May I take your coats?" He requested, standing by politely, his arm extended formally.

"Uh..." They both looked at one another. "Yeah, sure."

The pair of them removed their leather jackets and the man collected them up and rushed them over to a coat stand in the corner, right in their line of view. He returned with a couple suavely folded menus and placed them in their hands. "Drinks are on the back, if you need anything this evening just ask." He smiled disingenuously, clearly having performed the same customer-pleasing tight lipped smile all evening and was getting bored of the pretence.

He receded lazily into the packed restaurant, going to attend to the small queue gathering obstructively at the door to the outlet.

"So..." Bucky started. "Shall we get a drink to share? Like a bottle of wine or something?" Bucky said over the top of the menu, only his smiling eyes visible, wrinkled lightly at the corners as he spoke.

"I was thinking champagne," Steve commented. "This is a special occasion after all."

Bucky's smile went supressed and shy, looking down at the menu instead of Steve, happiness still lighting his bright blue eyes.

"How about Moet? Sound good to you?" Steve locked eyes with him and then placed the menu down with a quiet tap as the laminated paper hit the material draped table top.

"Anything sounds good to me. I can't even remember what champagne tastes like..." Bucky shook his head and giggled in a brittle way, his eyes rushing about skittishly.