Juliet Capulet: Kimberly Anne Crawford
Romeo Montague: Jackson Michael Brewer
Benvolio (Romeo's cousin): Jerry Fernando Martinez
Mercutio (Romeo's friend): Milton David Krupnick
Friar Laurence: Eddie
Rosalind (Romeo's first girl): Julie
Tybalt (Evil Dude): Ricky Weaver
Paris (Juliet's Fiancée): Frank
Lord Montague: Rudy Gillespie
Lord Capulet; Sensei Ty
Nurse: Marge

Somehow, Jerry always knew where to find Jack; no matter what the circumstance, no matter what his best friend had gone through, and no matter what time of the night, Jerry always found him at Wasabi Wine.

Judging by the way Jack's back was hunched over the greenish-brown bottle of spirits, totally alone in the raucous bar, Jack had just suffered a serious mood change. He'd been dumped, to put it simply, and Jerry was doing what he always did-pasting his friend back together.

"Two shots of vodka," The Latino murmured to the bartender, sliding into a seat at the relatively crowded bar, and stopped himself from looking at the empty-eyed man beside him. Jack would talk to him when he was ready, but for now, he'd sit in silence. Accepting the small but sturdy glass of liquor, Jerry appraised his best friend out of the corner of his eye, using years of experience to find out the true level of depression he was experiencing.

Jack Brewer and Jerry Martinez have been friends since they came out of the womb. All through preschool, kindergarten, elementary, middle, and high, they'd been as close as brothers, and when you're close to someone like that, you tend to pick up a few things. Jack could tell from the tone of Jerry's voice what he was feeling, and Jerry knew the extent of Jack's suffering could be found out by the amount of alcohol he'd ingested.

This time was no different.

The brunette beside Jerry had a small collection of shot glasses on the smooth wood beside him, enough that a child could build a well constructed castle with. Tall and empty next to it were two wine bottles, not good grade but good enough for Jack Brewer, and the bottle in said man's hands was halfway empty.

Jack had it bad.

His dark, coffee hair wasn't in the perfectly coiffed mane that it seemed to uphold no matter what, the ends ragged and brushing his shoulders, strands hanging limply over his face. The shirt on Jack's back was an old ratty long-sleeved purple v-neck that his mother had threatened to throw out many times, probably from the amount of questionable stains on the hems. His jeans were even more worn than the shirt, though sporting no holes, and the shoes on his feet were Jack's famous, throwback Vans that had been splattered countless times on the cover of People, Us, and Variety magazine. Jack's eyes were shaded by his wayward hair, and he kept his gaze on the bar in front of him, the power shoulders he'd trained throughout all of his twenty-three years hunched with purpose as if to block out the world.

"Her name is Julie Tyson." Jack husked hoarsely, throwing back even more liquor. "She dumped me not two hours ago, and I feel like the damned."

Jerry chuckled, moving his shot glass around with a finger. "What did she say?"

Jack sighed. "I wasn't manly enough for her."

"Manly enough?" Jerry asked reflexively, laughing in disbelief as he gulped down the sharp, poignant amber liquid. "You've been taking karate and judo for as long as I can remember. You visit the gym almost as much as you visit the local Y. You're nice to a fault, kick butt, are a gentleman despite everything, and you've got the whole strong and silent type thing going for you."

Jack chuckled darkly, taking another swig. "That's not even the kicker, Jer. She left me for Milton. Milton of all people."

Jerry almost choked on his liquor. "Milton?"

Milton Krupnick was Jack's only other best friend, and that being said, the rejection was even more painful. The ginger had the brains that Jerry lacked, and the weakness that Jack seemed to be allergic to, but he had a good heart and was the best listener that they knew. For Julie to leave Jack for Milton, well…that was hard to stomach.

"Milton called me right afterwards," Jack muttered, placing the now empty wine bottle next to the two beside him and motioning for yet another one. "He had no idea Julie felt that way, so I can't feel mad at him, but…" he let out a low growl. "It still hurts like hell."

Jerry sipped his drink and looked at his best friend, evaluating the sober-yet-drunk brunette, a thought developing in his head.

"The Crawford's are hosting a party tonight, Jack." The Latino muttered, emptying the shot glass quickly. "It would help you get the break up off your mind."

Jack finally removed his eyes from the bar and looked at Jerry with disbelief, the apple cider color diluted and filled with years of pain that Jerry had the fortune not to experience. "The Crawford's?" Jack said with disbelief. "Jerry. I'm the drunk one. Not you."

Jerry smiled at his friend, gently taking the newest wine bottle from his hands. "You are a sober drunk, my friend." He countered mildly, pushing himself off the stool. "You're no different drunk than sober, just no hangover, but still-it's a ball thing. They can't kick you out."

"Jerry, you're practically my brother. You know the Crawford's and the Brewer's have been enemies after, well, you know…and you want me to crash their party?"

Jerry shrugged. "I'm a crazy Spaniard, yo."

The brunette shook his head to himself and released the grip on the corner of the wooden bar, getting up slowly and turning to face his inch-and-a-half shorter best friend. "Why not?" Jack muttered, following Jerry out the door. "Besides, I can't make the feud worse."

"Jackeroo, you have to meet some chicks," Jerry laughed, slinging an arm around Jack's shoulders as they exited the bar. "And I know just who to help me."