Chapter 4
Awkwardness
Pacey thought he might be going crazy.
Doug and Jack had been acting ridiculously skittish for over a week now. Without a word from either of them, they had both simply stopped showing up to the weekly card game, and any time they were in the same room they would clam up and fidget awkwardly, neither one of them ever looking at the other.
It was driving Pacey to distraction.
It was worse because he knew that something was definitely wrong. Whenever he ran into Jack alone, his friend always seemed really depressed. Doug was secretive and kind of aloof, more like he used to be than he had been lately, but still relatively normal when he wasn't around Jack. But Jack was really messed up. He had been coming by the restaurant more and more often lately, sitting slumped morosely at the bar and staring off into space.
Finally, Pacey decided that he just couldn't take it any more.
He picked up a dingy glass and a washcloth and began to polish the surface, doing his best to look as bar-tender-y as possible. Trying to be nonchalant, he sidled up to Jack, who was nursing a beer and staring sightlessly at the countertop.
"So," said Pacey, "boy trouble?"
Jack looked up, starting. "W-what?"
Ah-ha, thought Pacey. "Something's wrong, Jack. You've been acting weird for a while now. What's up?"
"Oh." Jack went back to staring at the polished wood surface of the bar. "It's nothing." He gave a deep, melancholy sigh that Pacey was quite sure was definitely not nothing.
"Listen McPhee," he said in a lecturing tone. "I am your friend. And if I don't get it out of you, then I'm going to have to beat it out of Doug. But I'm guessing that since you're obviously more depressed than he is, whatever it is is your problem."
Jack looked up again, but stared past Pacey to the rows of liquor bottles, not really looking at anything. "Just because he doesn't seem depressed doesn't mean he isn't," he said softly. "Doug is amazingly good at hiding things."
Pacey blinked at this little revelation. Okay then. So something was up. "Okay. So what does this have to do with my brother?"
Jack folded his arms on top of the bar and lay his head down on them. "Can't tell you," he said, his voice muffled. "I promised Doug I wouldn't."
Pacey's eyebrows shot up. This was getting juicier by the second. "Come on, Jack. You'd probably be much better at explaining it than Doug would." Jack looked like he really needed someone to talk to, and Pacey suspected that he was just waiting for a sympathetic listener to unburden himself to.
But to his surprise, Jack refused, shaking his head.
"If you want the story, you'll have to get it from him. It's not my place to tell you."
Pacey frowned. "Well, I will. And I must say, I'm disappointed in you, Jack. I thought you trusted me more than this."
He had said this last half-jokingly, but when Jack looked up, his glare was full of anger.
"Shut it, Pacey," he said, standing up. "I'm going home."
Pacey watched helplessly as Jack stormed out of the bar. Well, that didn't exactly go as planned, he thought.
That left only one option: Doug. Pacey resolved to see him as soon as possible.