The Queen of Diamonds

by Tracey Landau

“Why did you tell them?” I shout at Mark once we decide our parents aren’t tailing Danny’s car.

  “Hey, chill! I needed to see you, and I needed a ride—”

  “Use your car!”

  “He can’t,” Danny speaks up. “He crashed it drag racing—”

  “And believe me, I didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad that either—ooh! Dairy Queen!”

  We pass it.

  “Damn it!”

  “Why did you have to see me? You could’ve just called.…”

  “Well, actually, your number’s on my cell, and I lost my cell recently. I haven’t had the chance to get to the Verizon store, yet, which reminds me, what kinda phone do you have—”

  “The point, Mark, skip to the point.”

  “Oh, okay, uh.… It has to do with Jimmy, he told me to tell you something.…”

  “Yes?”

  “Uh, you had to meet him somewhere. I think it was today.…”

  “Yes?”

  “Damn it.”

  “You forgot?!”

  “Of course,” Danny sighs.

  “Hey, where are we heading?” Mark asks, pulling at my seat.

  “To Jimmy’s, where do you think?”

  “No, don’t!” Mark shouts in my ears. He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “That was part of his message. He said he has ‘friends’ hanging around his place, bugging him about why he was at the police station—”

  “Gang members just aren’t trusting friends, are they?”

  “He says not to go looking for him there,” Mark finishes, ignoring Danny.

  “Then where do we go?” I ask quietly, thinking.

  “Well, I have to get to the pet store,” Mark groans. “You can drop me off, but Les.…”

  I turn around and see that Mark is suddenly very serious—a rare occasion with Mark.

  “I think you should take the medication. We need to clear this up, and we’re never going to find Molly if Danny and I are busy pointing out to you what’s real and what’s not.”

  Danny’s nodding in agreement.

  “I’ll think about it,” I lie. There’s no point in arguing with them now. Right now, we just need to find Jimmy.

  * * * *

  “So what do you think?” my sister was shouting at me.

  “What?” I could hardly hear her over the music.

  “Do you miss going to these kinds of crazy college parties?”

  “And being single? No way!”

  Molly laughed.

  “I’ll tell you one thing, I haven’t really had a chance to go to any parties this year, what with classes and everything. You’re my excuse for being here right now.”

  “Glad I could help!”

  College students were packed everywhere there was a surface. Molly and I sat squished tight on a couch in front of a table stacked with drinks.

  “Hey, you should get out there and bust some moves,” Molly shouted.

  “Somehow I don’t think modern dance would work with this crowd.”

  She laughed again, then challenged me with, “What number am I thinking of?”

  “Hmm…208?”

  “Ah, but why did I think of that number?”

  “Isn’t that your apartment number?”

  “You’re a freak, you know that?”

  “Cool trick,” Molly and I heard before some kid with a backwards cap and gray hoodie dropped down between us, forcing Molly off the couch. She gave me a look before being eaten up into the crowd, calling “I guess I’ll catch up to you?” behind her.

  “So, what color am I thinking of?” the boy asked, engrossed.

  “Red.”

  “Awesome. That helps get chicks, doesn’t it?”

  “That was my sister.”

  “Ahh.…” The boy looked back at the spot where Molly had disappeared. “So…she single?”

  “Here, you want me to guess something else for you?”

  “Sure!” The kid turned to face me again.

  “All right, think of your age.”

  “Okay. Wait—”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Hey!”

  “Little young to be at a party like this, aren’t you?”

  “You know, you really should charge for this stuff.” He gave me a funny look, his eyebrows rising and lowering along with this ridiculous smile and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  It was the first time I met Jimmy. I never expected to so much as catch a glimpse of him again…now I can’t imagine being in New Jersey and not seeing him somewhere bizarre.

  * * * *

  Danny and I arrive at the theatre maybe fifteen minutes after dropping Mark off. The curtains are pulled back, revealing a set that seems to be coming together quite nicely. The play being performed is Man with Bags and the stage looks twisted and bizarre. Being a surrealism fanatic, I’m eager to see the end product.

  We decided in the car to meet up with Derek. Derek’s an actor and Danny’s prop master—has been for every production in the last four years. It was through this production that Danny and Derek met, although apparently Derek’s lived in the town over from us for years.

  I pay close attention now to who’s sitting around reading their lines in the auditorium seats. Unfortunately I don’t see her there, the mysterious unknown woman. Instead I catch sight of Brendan—a member of the cast I met recently.

  “Hey, Danny, I’ll catch up with you later,” I call to him before heading towards Brendan.

  Brendan’s wearing yet another piece of 42nd Street merchandise (I’ve come to realize he’s an avid fan). This time it’s a hat. I sit down in the seat next to him, causing him to look up from his script.

  “Oh, hey…Les, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you looking for your brother, or.…”

  “Actually I’m looking for someone else; a woman with dark brown hair, heavy black makeup, kind of goth?”

  “All right, you’re describing a third of the cast.”

  “No, she’s not an actor. She’s…she’s a smoker, always has this strange, secretive smile on her face?”

  “Oh, I know who you’re talking about. Sorry, I haven’t seen her.”

  Of course. I sigh. “I suppose you don’t know her name?”

  “Sorry.”

  I thank him and get up to leave when he pulls me back into my seat.

  “You know, we have a rehearsal tonight. She might be here then.”

  “Yeah? Hey, could you do me a favor? Could you get Derek—you know Derek, right? Could you get him to call me or Danny if she shows up tonight? Please?”

  “Sure, no problem.… Okay, is it just me going crazy, or can you hear that too?”

  “What?” I say before I realize my cell phone is ringing. I fumble in my pocket, grab it out and see a number I don’t recognize. I pick it up and am immediately greeted by Jimmy’s voice.

  “Get to the Quick Check now, you know the one.”

  “Wait, wait, wait! Jimmy, what’s going on?”

  “Get here now.”

  “Okay, I’ll grab Danny and—”

  “No, no, no, no! Don’t bring your brother, just you.”

  “But…I can’t! I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet, but they’re blaming the fire on me. I got a tracking anklet now, and I’m supposed to stick with Danny or—”

  “No. No Danny.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Steal your brother’s car, just for an hour, and get over here!”

  “Jimmy!”

  He hangs up.

  I wait for a moment, the phone still at my ear, dumbly expecting him to call back.

  “Wait.… What fire? You were arrested?” Brendan asks me, having listened to the entire conversation. I stutter something and leave him sitting there confused and curious.

  It was ironic and typical Jimmy that he wanted to meet at the Quick Check. The little store was the last place Jimmy should be hanging around.… That’s a long story, I’ll get to it later.

  I
walk up and down the theater aisle, trying to decide what to do. It’s in situations like these where schizophrenia sometimes comes in handy.

  “Go,” I hear.

  “He can’t go!” Another voice argues.

  I’m suddenly put in the very awkward position of hearing my thoughts out loud. I stand still, my head turning back and forth as the two voices debate.

  “It’s important. Jimmy told you to get there now, so go.”

  “He can’t just leave; he has to grab Danny first. Jimmy doesn’t understand how important it is that—”

  “Jimmy explicitly told you not to bring Danny.”

  “If he doesn’t bring Danny, he’s breaking the law.”

  “Because the cops are magically going to find out Danny’s not with him? It’s just an hour, and how are the police going to know?”

  “It doesn’t matter; he doesn’t even have the car keys. He might as well go with Danny.”

  “He has the keys.”

  “No, he doesn’t—”

  “They’re in his pocket.”

  What? I fumble in my pockets and am surprised to find that the keys are indeed there. It creeps me out for a moment, then I remember Danny had thrown me his keys, saying he had no pockets and wanted me to hold on to them.

  Seeing the key in my hand makes me nervous. I shift my weight impatiently, then, hoping no one will see me, I moan to the voices, “I can’t do this, Danny’s going to kill me.”

  “So call him and tell him you’re borrowing the car on the way there. Problem solved.”

  “Okay, that’s one option. Voice #2, what do you think?” I ask the air.

  “You really shouldn’t—”

  “Sounds good,” I tell myself as I run out of the theatre to Danny’s red car. It suddenly reminds of the imaginary redhead from the police station. Now I realize what he was trying to tell me.…

  Miranda has seven hearts. Eighty-five is Kelly’s lucky number. Charlie likes green.

  Jimmy’s color is red.

  * * * *

  “Ooh, you’re taking me to see a play?” I asked Molly as we pulled up into the theatre parking lot.

  “Nope.”

  I was disappointed.

  “I’m going to introduce you to Derek!”

  Less disappointed.

  “He’s playing one of the lead roles. He really wants to meet you—you two can talk theatre together.” She said that last part in a proper British accent.

  “What’s the play?”

  “It’s called Man with Bags? Some theatre-of-the-absurd piece. Derek read me something from it; it sounds like the main character is walking around in a dream. You’d love it, of course. It’s driving Danny crazy because they have, like, fifty different suitcases as props.”

  When we walked in a rehearsal was in progress on stage. “Take a seat,” Molly whispered to me. “I’ll go check if Derek’s here.”

  I obeyed and took a seat in the sea of empty chairs. The moment I sat down I heard a whisper from behind me; a quiet voice that slithered through the air and into my ear.

  “Ballet?” It asked. I turned around and that’s when I saw the non-existing woman for the first time. She wore a scarlet smile of silent amusement on a pale white face that looked bright against her dark attire. It took me a moment to realize she’d spoken to me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re a dancer. Ballet?”

  “Modern and contemporary, mostly.”

  “You’re not gay, though.”

  I smiled, intrigued. “No.… How did you—?”

  “You glided to your seat, and before that you glided down the aisle. Dancers have a very distinct way of walking. As for the gay thing, I have excellent gay-dar. It’s my bizarre little talent.”

  “Impressive.”

  “And you?”

  “What about me?”

  “What’s your bizarre little talent?”

  “Hmm.… I guess.… I can read minds.”

  “Oh?”

  “Just colors, numbers, sometimes cards.”

  “I have a card in mind. Humor me?”

  “Queen of…Diamonds.”

  She smiled wider, showing some sparkling white teeth between her ruby red lips. “What a handy little trick.”

  “Hardly. Are you in the play?”

  She shook her head. “My friend is.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Your name is…?” I offered my hand, but she rose from her seat, still smiling, and walked away. I watched her leave in awe.

  Well she’s an interesting character, I thought to myself. It was a moment later that Molly found me again.

  “Derek’s in the back,” she whispered to me before leading me in the opposite direction the non-existing woman had gone.

  * * * *

  I find Jimmy in the Quick Check talking to the clerk, an old man with a crooked back and enthusiastic voice.

  “Next time those punk-ass kids aren’t going to be so lucky,” the man was cackling. Jimmy looks coolly amused. He notices me and smiles.

  “Les, there you are! Mr. Thompson here was just telling me he was robbed for the third time. He said you were taken hostage?!”

  “Damn brats—one pointed a gun right in my face! Can you believe that? So you got away all right?” the clerk asks, wide-eyed, recognizing me.

  “Yeah, well, I ran for it when they weren’t looking,” I lie.

  “Mr. Thompson bought a shotgun,” Jimmy tells me.

  “Can’t wait for those shit-for-brains to try that again.… Next time, I’ll be ready, don’t you worry about that!” the clerk cackles again.

  “Isn’t he clever?” Jimmy says with a smile.

  …Okay, let me explain.

  Molly needed groceries. She was far too busy with work and classes to shop, so I offered to help, having nothing better to do. It was night and I didn’t have a car, so I chose the closest store to the apartment. That store was the Quick Check.

  The store isn’t rundown, but it isn’t in the best part of town. The shop had been robbed twice in one month, by the same group. I didn’t know that. I also didn’t know the robbers had planned a third visit.

  Imagine this, if you will: You’re walking down the aisles of this empty store. It’s quiet. You’re content, a little tired maybe. You have everything you need in a basket and are ready to check out so you can get back home, lay on a couch, and watch TV with a bag of Cheetos. But the closer you get to the front of the store, the more aware you become that there’s some sort of commotion going at the check-out counter. You hear yelling. People are cursing. Now you’re finally at the end of the aisle. You peek out, expecting, perhaps, to see the clerk arguing with some difficult customers. You don’t expect those customers to be a couple of guys in ski masks pointing a gun in the angry clerk’s face.

  I was frozen. I blinked, expecting the men to disappear, but they didn’t. As the robbers and cashier screamed curses back and forth at each other, a few thoughts popped into my head.

  1. That cashier is insane, why doesn’t he just hand over the money already?

  2. I’m insane. Maybe none of this is real.…

  3. They haven’t noticed me yet.

  * * * *

  Thought 3 set me in motion. I started looking for exits.

  “Come on, just hand over the money!” the robber not holding the gun yelled.

  “Go rob some other store, I’m not handing nothing over!” the cashier screamed back.

  I quietly put down the basket of junk foods and slowly started walking backwards towards the emergency exit. I kept looking forward, listening to the robbery and hoping no one would check my aisle.

  When I decided I must be close to the end of the aisle, I turned around to run, and…SLAM!

  A third robber and I fell to the floor. The sound of our collision startled the other two robbers and the cashier.

  “What the hell?!” Robber 3 yelled, angrily getting to his feet. He looked at me and dug a swish blade out of his pocket.
Shit, I thought. Robber 1 with the gun showed up and pointed the revolver at me.

  “Stand up, hostage,” he said. I calmly obeyed and realized I wasn’t as worried as I should be.

  “Fine! Here! Take the freakin’ money,” the cashier growled. He grabbed the cash register drawer, pulled it loose, and threw it down on the checkout counter, causing change to fly everywhere. Robber 2 grabbed as many bills as he could and yelled back to his associates, “Let’s get out of here!”

  Robber 1 looked at Robber 3, who looked at me, put away the knife, and ran over to help Robber 2 collect more money. Then Robber 1 started staring at me.

  “Let the poor guy go, you don’t need him!” the cashier barked. He was standing at the front of the aisle, now, his eyes darting nervously back and forth between the robbers taking his money and me. Robber 1 with the gun shouted back, “Don’t worry, old man. We’re not going to hurt him.”

  His voice was somehow familiar.

  “Come on, let’s go! What you waiting for?” Robber 2 said as he ran over to Robber 1. Robber 1 whispered in his ear. Robber 2 and Robber 1 both looked at me and laughed.

  Now I was getting nervous.

  Robber 3 finally came over, looking annoyed. “Let’s go!”

  “All right.” Robber 1 pushed me in front of him and pressed the gun in my back. “Walk.”

  Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I thought as the four of us left the store. A crappy little car with no license plate sat waiting half on the curb. Robber 3 jumped behind the steering wheel, Robber 2 sat shotgun, and I was pushed into the smelly backseat next to Robber 1 who kept his gun on me. The three doors closed simultaneously and the car sputtered away from the store, my groceries, and Molly’s shopping list.

  What the hell am I doing here? I thought to myself as Robber 2 whispered something in Robber 3’s ear. He smiled and looked at me in the rear view mirror. The short guy with the gun sitting next to me stared at me the whole car ride. I stared out the window and listened to the car’s gasping, clattering sounds as we drove on. We all sat in silence.

  Eventually we came to a rotting building complex. The car putted to a slow chug, bumped up onto the curb, and died. The robbers in the front turned around and waited for commands from the short guy with the gun.

  “Leave us,” he said menacingly. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  They nodded, got out of the car and scattered, disappearing like shadows into the night.