Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 5

"Well, what's she doing up there?" Eric asked, holding onto Mike's arm to prevent him from fleeing before they forced him to get a lady-friend.

John craned his neck and shrugged. "Looks like she's setting up. Maybe she doesn't realize the house lights are off and we can all see her."

Gil snickered. "She better stop bending over before those blokes go into cardiac arrest!"

Mike's eyes darted to a small group of mostly drunk men standing up in front of the stage, leaning over and hooting as Gemma ignored them and continued to reach for picks and straps in her guitar case. She produced a capo and began to set up things so they were just off the poorly built stage.

He flushed angrily. "That's not nice!"

"Calm down, Mikey, she's not yours yet!" Terry retorted, laughing slightly. The others snickered again at Mike's expense, laughing at his embarrassment and enjoying his nervousness.

Eric's shoulders floated back a bit. "So, what did you say her name was, Palin?"

"Gemma." Mike sulked to the others silently, hoping one of them would pick up on his discomfort and prevent them from forcing himself upon her.

"Gemma what?" Eric pressed.

Gemma seized the microphone that she'd set up on stage and pulled it over in front of the stool she'd set up. She grinned at the assembled groups. "Hi! My name's Gemma Thompson and I'm here to make a complete fool of myself for your amusement, how does that sound?"

There were loud whoops and even a groan on Mike's part as Eric smirked at him with a smug look of confidence on his face.

"So, as I said before, I'm Gemma. I was raised on a small pig farm in Russia in 1807, and I-" A rubber chiken flew from somewhere in the front area of the stage and hit Gemma squarely in the face. She continued, undaunted while the audience hooted and searched for the culprit.

"-was sent to be a mail-order bride, but Hitler sent me back so I was exiled from the country as being the only return order mail-order bride by someone as influential as the ruler of Germany. I found a ukulele on my travels and have been obsessed with guitars ever since!" Throughout her little fake spiel, rolls of toilet paper and crumpled pieces of paper were hurled at her from all directions.

Gemma laughed as Noah walked onstage and seized the microphone. "Would all you drunk horny teenagers stop throwing human excrement at my cousin, please?" There were howls of laughter from the contributing parties on the floor.

She grappled with Noah for the microphone before finally winning it over. "Now, a song...unfortunately it is a serious one and will probably piss all of you creeps out. Haha!"

The second microphone was hooked up the microphone stand, about half-way down so Gemma could play her guitar acoustically and not find an electric acoustic for the occasion. She strapped up and sat back on the stool, eyes glittering mischieviously.

Then, as though to completely throw the audience off, she launched into the Janis Joplin favorite, "Piece of My Heart."

Her voice mimicked Joplin's perfectly, straining and growling lightly with the melody. She closed her eyes tight as the eyes of a few of the closer tables glowed out at her. She began the chorus more confidently, stuttering a little as she saw the dance floor litter with more and more people. They began to clap with the rhythm, reminding Gemma of all the times she'd been missing since she thought the world had ended. Her voice lilted higher and lower, watching happily as couples danced together, no jealously on her part.

Back at the Python table, Mike's jaw hung open slightly. Her voice was soft and quiet, accustomed to the quiet of the hospital where she worked and the seriousness of her job, so to hear her in front of this crowd, so loud and confident made him gulp and stare harder. Risking a glance to the rest of the table, he saw most of the others had the same expressions. John's eyes were wide, his arms unfolded and slack at his sides while he stared at the woman on stage, singing her heart out with almost expert precision. There were a few untrained singer problems that arose, mostly cracking notes and even that Eric thought to himself could have been intentional. She always cracked into her head voice, and it always was clear and high, never grating and unpleasant like a true mistake.

"Wow and double wow!" Terry muttered.

Gil snickered dismissively. "You all look like fish out of water, you too Jonesy."

Slowly they stopped staring and started to look at one another; except for Mike. He continued to stare, entranced by her fluid motions and equally fluid voice.

Eric's hand floated over and slowly pushed Mike's mouth shut as it still hung open in amazement. Once again a heat rose to his cheeks as he realized how silly he had looked.

The song ended with a storm of pleased applause echoing back at Gemma, particularly from a table to her right, near the middle of the massive group of tables. She smiled and stood before the group, feeling ditzy and rather out of place.

"Honestly, I wish I could do that all night but the spaceship comes in ten minutes." She quipped, letting the more drunk of the mass laugh while she chugged some water to appease her scratchy throat.

She strummed a single chord, thinking hard about the beginning of the next song she began to play. Deciding on a bit of audience participation she flashed them a shy yet mischievious grin.

She stretched her shoulders innocently, starting to feel like herself again. "Would you rather have me belt things out at you, or screeching up in a girly voice?"

There were catcalls and a few nasty shouts before a loud voice shouted "Yell at us!"

Eric smacked John for Mike, who had shrunk nearly under the table in case Gemma had seen him sitting next to the loud figure at his table. John smacked Eric right back and turned back to the stage, a grin covering his face.

Gemma shrugged. "Alright, you asked for it."

She strummed a chord and hummed a beginning note pathetically. Starting in on the actual melody on guitar and in voice, she startled a few of the people sitting out in the massive dark. She sang loudly, face twisting up as she strained slightly, no longer afraid of embarrassing herself in front of the almost friendly crowd. "Son of A Preacher Man" echoed out into the club, the lights starting up and the masses dancing. She continued to smile at the dancers, thoroughly enjoying her time in the limelight for the first time in nearly a year.

This was a different person than Mike had grown accustomed to. In his car ride and chats with her, he'd only ascertained that she was shy and deathly afraid of embarrassing herself, though she did enjoy a good joking around and wasn't afraid to come off as arrogant. She knew what had to be done and just as soon did it before it was too late. He stared up at the woman on stage, enjoying herself but still looking lonely and frightened as she stood alone up in front of the near two hundred people.

John poked Mike, pulling him from his dreamy stare again. "Say mate, if you don't want her, can I have her?"

There were five kicks to his shin, including one from Mike as he flushed again. Eric's kick hit John especially hard. "Come on, Cleesey, let Mike have a girlie for once! It's been ages since he's had ANYTHING!"

Mike blushed a deep scarlet but let the others have a good laugh.

"Come on then, you've hardly said anything all night! You should be making a jack of yourself so she sees you!" Gray elbowed him gently, with knowing eyes.

Unfortunately for Graham, Mike wasn't in the mood any more. "I might turn in before-"

John shook his head. "You should at least talk to her! Isn't she a great musician?"

"Well yes, but I-"

John cut him off with a slight laugh. "Then that's all you need to say!"

Eric put on a falsetto voice. "'Oh thank you for the lovely compliment, Mike! Shall we shag now or shag later?"

Mike smacked him lightly and turned his face up a shining red as Noah passed the table with curious eyebrows.

Gray elbowed his friend. "Come on, Michael, no one's laughing at you, until you blush."

"Like a little girlie!" Eric crowed, causing some laughter and a few curious looks from surrounding tables.

Something struck Mike. "Don't call me Michael." He muttered.

"Why the hell not?" Eric retorted. They had always called him Mike or something close, but he had never barred them from using his full name.

There was a slight hurt in Mike's eyes as he turned to Eric. "I don't like that name," he lied.

Gray scoffed. "Come off it, Palin! Since when can we not call you by your full name?"

"Didn't have a problem earlier today," Eric muttered.

"Look, in the rare occasion I do get in a row with one of you, I can overlook the fact you all use 'Michael,'" he choked up for a moment. "But at the present moment I can't shake Helen from my mind, so just leave the name alone."

There was a deadly silence as the song from the stage slowed and stopped, and Mike's friends stopped smiling and realized what they had done.

Helen had been one to always use someone's full name, much to the chagrin of Terry, or Terrence as she called him. Even when she was alone with Mike, she had called him by his full name, never caring if he was annoyed or not. Since a very young age, Mike had taken a dislike to his first name; the spelling was opposite to the basics of English, and it sounded funny. Mikey developed into Mike, and from there on he'd only let teachers and new acquaintances use the name on him. Friends and family were literally forced to use something else.

With his wife it had been different. For a while he had forced the nickname on her too, until he realized that pet names were to follow and he might as well accept she was a creature different from friends or family. When she became Mrs. Palin, he had completely melted and never once reprimanded her for using his full name again. When she died, he had come to realize that the guys had taken it up with him to use the name when in a row with him, or making fun. As the years went on, he realized that he could tell friends from people he hadn't seen in ages just from the name they used. By the second meeting he usually corrected an old friend's use of his name, and by the third meeting it was set that he rather disliked his first name.

Eric coughed gently as Gemma struck up another tune, "Jet Plane."

She paused while the intro played. "For all you that have ridden the hell that is an airplane, this is for you..." She trailed off seriously, trying desperately to hide her smile, and failing terribly.

As the quiet laughs died off, she began to sing again, only furthering Mike's loss into his own mind.

Even Gemma had had experience with names that she'd rather not hear again. Jonas had been teased relentlessly by school mates for whatever reason with his name, so when they had met, Jonas had simply been Joe. He had taken up calling her Gem, and she'd taken up calling him Jonas, and soon enough he outgrew his old dislike of the name. Now only her family was permitted to using "Gem" on her, and she hadn't spoken to her parents since she was eighteen. College money in her pocket, she left and didn't plan on going back.

"'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again." For some reason her voice had taken on a shadow of loss and guilt, and as a result, the song became quite mournful and slow. The dancers swayed together, glad for a break in the silliness of the evening.

Eric's fingers began to tap on Mike's cast with the beat as he tried desperately to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry guys, I just forgot for a moment-" Mike began suddenly, realizing what a complete git he had started to be.

John waved it off. "We should've been nicer to you, after all, you've never once done something like this to us. We really shouldn't pressure you yet anyway, you'll decide when you want to find someone again."

Mike sighed heavily. "'And if you gaze into the abyss long enough, the abyss gazes also into you.'" He quoted with despair.

The song ended onstage, perfect timing again for an awkward silence, though covered with more polite applause. Gemma stood up, took a weak bow, trying to hold her emotions in as thoughts of Jonas flooded her head, reminding her of days when they'd sit underneath a tree in the park and sing in the rain, this old guitar passed back and forth between them as he taught her everything he knew about guitars. She had loved him, and still had the ring he had offered her, though she hadn't taken it out from her ancient jewelry box in ages. She hadn't worn much jewelry every, a few silver or white gold accessories to accent her easily tanned skin, and maybe a necklace.

Today she wore dog tags from her father's involvement with World War II and her trademark thumb rings. Jewelry wasn't permitted while on the job, but the dog tag was almost always tucked under her shirt on the job. Doctors wore watches regardless, and a few of the more vain nurses still wore copious amounts of makeup and gold.

She had been packing up for a little over two minutes now, while Noah yapped at her from the corner of the stage.

"There's a guy back there in the corner, Steve‌ He says he wants to talk to you, but he might be a creep." Noah relayed the mysterious man's message.

Gemma shook her head absently, hardly hearing her cousin's voice as she zipped the newly red stained acoustic guitar into the black case littered with stickers. One sticker proclaimed a rather odd statement. 

"HELLO, MY NAME IS: GOD" was written in pale blue ink, with "GOD" written in bold black marker, another one of Gemma's scoffs at the existence of God since he'd stolen Jonas from her.

Noah took her arm firmly. "You were great, despite what you think. I'd love it if you'd talk to me more often. Uncle Stan-your dad can't stay mad at you forever."

Now a tear fled Gemma's eye. "Oh yes he can, and if he's not, I am."

He clucked his tongue at his cousin. "Alright, but you know where I'm at, so come visit me."

She looked up and hugged him suddenly, a wave of affection for her family washing over her.

She sighed, almost happy. "Say hi to Doug for me, please."

"Of course." Noah agreed to relay her message to Doug, her eldest brother of whom she hadn't seen in at least seven years.

With that, they exited the stage as the lights turned off. Gemma walked along side Noah, guitar slung over her shoulder again, and slipped along the sides of the tables. She made a pit stop at the bar, having the bartender toss her a bottled water. She laid a few notes on the mahogany surface before continuing on her way towards the back door.

Mike's chance seemed to be coming up, but he was sitting very still and staring straight ahead.

Eric sighed and realized that his thoughts had distracted him from being happy again. So he clambored to his feet as Gemma started to pass and gently took her hand. Mike still stared ahead, comatose.

"Hi, I'm Eric!" He proclaimed, purposefully knocking Mike with one of his knees as he slipped out from behind his chair. Success showed Mike's angry face turning to assault him verbally before he caught sight of Gemma. He was at a loss for words as she stared into Eric's eyes, a pleasant and flattered look on her face.

"I thought that was wonderful, I love your voice. I have a guitar myself, and I'm no expert, but I really enjoyed that, so thank you!" He praised her endlessly.

She blushed and shuffled her feet. "Thank you, Eric! I was just testing the old hunk of junk out once more, just got out of the shop. Staining accident gone mad, you see." She smiled warmly, liking Eric for being so awfully nice to her, even if it was all just to be polite.

Eric looked her up and down discreetly. "Well, I thought it was great, you should come out here more often. Me and my mates are here all the time, shall I introduce you then?" He pressed her lower back toward the group.

"Oh, I really should be going, my shift at the hospital start-" She started, face contorting with worry she'd be late and someone would die because of this over-friendly stranger.

Eric scoffed. "This will only take a moment, see?"

He gestured at the group. "There's Terrence one and Terrence two," they scowled heavily at Eric for the horrible introduction as he continued along the table, saving Mike for last.

"John the pain in the ass, Graham the doctor, me the ass that sings, and Mike, too nice for his own good." He concluded.

Gemma did a double take on Mike's seat, while the seat holder looked anxiously up at her, a weak smile on his face.

"Michael! Jesus, how long have you been here?" Her hands flew to her face, suddenly remembering all the tiny errors she'd made the entire night, cursing her stupidity and wailing internally that she'd probably embarrassed herself terribly.

Mike shrugged, trying to ignore the others and their waiting faces. "I've been here since seven thirty, actually."

The face she pulled was horrific; Eric thought she might burst into tears.

"Oh shit!" She managed to cry before turning and attempting to leave. Eric caught her and stared confusedly into her embarrassed eyes.

"Now what's the matter? You were great!" He seemed to sense her insecurity.

She turned with dread, hoping she wouldn't see Michael's face looming at her, a sneer on his face, disagreeing with Eric's nice comment.

Mike offered another weak smile, worried she's shoot him some glare for their encounter earlier, but instead she stared fragilely and blinked with concern.

"How's your wrist doing?" She finally broke the silence, glancing for a moment as his cast, signed crudely by the other five men at the table.

For a moment Mike was confused what she was talking about. "My wrist...oh! Yes, it's fine. Well, it's broken, but it doesn't hurt."

Gemma snickered, feeling slightly more relaxed as he glanced at the white plaster. Seeing the heated glares from all rounds of the table, he started a fresh round of the game they had all chewed him out about.
 
"'Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better even of their blunders.'" He quoted, having read it earlier in one of his books.

Gemma's face lit up and Eric did all he could to conceal the smile that was creeping up to his cheeks.

"'Believe me! The secret of reaping the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment from life is to live dangerously!'" She retorted, pleased.

Mike stroked his chin comically, thinking hard. "'With all civilization comes all evil.'"

Gemma scowled. "'Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies.'"

Graham's eyes lit up as well, having recognized that line from one of the books on his shelf. "Oh, well done!"

Terry, insanely bored, caught on and clapped once. "Yes, well done!"

Mike bowed his head. "One one, my lady." His eyes sparkled pleasantly.

She smirked, ignoring all senses of concern that she had before. "You just wait, Mr. High-and-Mighty, I'll get you again!"

He laughed softly, admiring her pleasant laugh joining with his with smiles all around the table.

She glanced at her watch knowing she'd be late for once. "Oh, I really do need to leave now."

Mike stood up immediately, holding a hand out to shake. "Thanks for a chance to make a fool of myself again, Gemma." He grinned and tried to ignore Eric's silent prodding.

Gemma took his hand and laughed lightly, pumping it up and down in a politician's manner. "Anytime!"

There was a silence between them as they both seemed to realize that not a day had passed since Mike had placed a kiss on her cheek and darted away as though she'd kill him with a mighty iron fist. She smiled warmly and felt some forbidden thing leap up as her gaze drifted across his lips. Desperate to do something other than stare, she reached up and brushed some of the shaggy hair out of his eyes and smiled again.

"Take care of yourself, Michael." She chided, tossing her own hair back behind her head.

His grin made her smile all over again.

"I will, doctor." He snickered wickedly, adopting a boyish grin as well.

"Bye Gemma," he said sincerely, hand taking hers again and squeezing slightly.

She gave his hand one more shake before winking and walking away, offering up one thing over her shoulder. "See you around!"

Mike watched her exit the building, sitting down a few moments later with a huge sigh. There was an echo of his sigh followed by raucous laughter.

"What?!" Mike said, realizing they were poking fun at him again.

Terry placed the back of his hand across his forehead. He let out another tremendous sigh. "Oh, I could just drool a puddle over that Gemma!"

Mike turned scarlet and folded his arms. "Shaddap!"

Eric sat down, eyes twinkling knowingly. "That's not all, mate."

"What do you mean, 'that's not all?'" Mike retorted irritably.

Gray cleared his throat with a sort of dignity. "I'm not sure if you noticed, Mr. Palin, but that little lady right there called you 'Michael' twice and you did nothing. Nothing, nothing at all."

Just as he opened his mouth to say that she hadn't done anything of the sort, he realized that she had called him by his full name twice.

Eric smirked again. "You thought you were free to go, eh Palin?"

"There's more!" John piped up.

Mike pleaded silently for them to stop.

"This one's on her part, though." John added.

"Oh really?" Mike faked enthusiasm. "That just makes it SO much better!" He intoned facetiously.

Eric swatted at Mike's cast, smacking it off the table with another annoying, smug, all-knowing smirk.

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, it is better! She was flirting with you, mate!"

This captured his interest at once. "What?"

"All those little things we tend to disregard when with girlfriends and wives, those are flirting techniques." He replied knowingly. "When she held onto your hand after done shaking it, it was remaining contact. When she brushed your hair away, that was full on flirting, matey."

Eric leapt up and did a quick, ridiculous dance. "Mikey's got a girlie!"

"Shut up!" Mike hissed, smacking Eric with the heavy cast and trying not to grin as he nursed the hurt with a pout.

Noah stared at the small table from behind the bar, shaking his head slowly. "What a bunch of jackasses." He sighed and glanced at the door that Gemma had disappeared through. "Christ Gemma, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."