Titanic

{Chapter Eighteen}

.  .  .  .  .

 Men's suits, jackets, and formal wear were strewn all over the place. Molly was having a fine time. Jack was dressed, except for his jacket, and Molly was tying his bow tie.

"Don't feel bad about it. My son can't tie one of these damn things after twenty years. There you go."

She picked up a jacket off of the bed and handed it to him. Jack went into the bathroom to put it on. Molly started picking up the belongings around the room.

"I gotta buy everything in three sizes 'cause I never know how much he's been eating while I'm away."

Jack stepped out of the bathroom and stood in front of the vanity mirror, straightening his suit.

Molly stuck her hand in some gel and began running her fingers through his long, blonde hair to slick it back, like he's a child and she's his fussy mother. It made him appear more young and boyish than he already was.

Molly stepped back to get a look at him. "My, my, my...you shine up like a new penny."

. . . . .

In the west, the sky was purple, shot with orange. Strains of classical music filled the air. Jack walked along the deck. He looked dashing in his borrowed, white-tied outfit, right down to his pearl studs.

A steward bowed and smartly opened the door to the First Class Entrance. "Good evening, sir."

Jack played the role smoothly. He nodded with just the right degree of disdain.

He stepped in, and his breath was taken away by the splendor spread out before him. Overhead was the enormous glass dome, with a crystal chandelier at its center. Sweeping down six stories was the First Class Grand Staircase, the epitome of the opulent naval architecture of the time.

And the people: the women in their floor-length gowns, elaborate hairstyles, and abundant jewelry...the gentlemen in evening dress, standing with one hand at the small of the back, and talking quietly.

Jack descended down to A Deck. Several men nodded a perfunctory greeting. He tried to imitate each man's stance and nodded back, keeping it simple. He felt like a spy.

Cal came down the stairs, with Ruth on his arm, covered in jewelry.

"Did you know that there are seven-hundred tons of Hockley steel on this very ship?"

"Really, which parts?"

"Well, the right ones of course." Cal grinned smugly.

"Good, then we'll know who to hold accountable for if there's a problem. Where's my daughter?"

"I'm sure she'll be along."

They both walked right past Jack, neither one recognizing him. Cal nodded at him, one gent to the other. But Jack barely had any time to be amused...because just behind Cal and Ruth on the stairs was Rose...a vision in red and black, her low cut dress showing off her neck and shoulders, her arms sheathed in white gloves that came well above the elbow, and her wild, red curls tamed in a loose yet elegant bun, a few strands falling out and framing her face. Jack did a double take, hypnotized by her beauty.

Rose approached Jack. He, once again, imitated the gentleman's stance, his hand behind his back, as he pierced Rose with a flirtatious gaze. She extended her gloved hand and he took it, kissing the backs of her fingers. Rose blushed, beaming noticeably. She couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"I saw that in a nickelodeon once and I always wanted to do it."

Rose laughed softly.

Jack offered her his arm and cocked his head in a posh way, dramatically playing the role of a gentleman.