“What?”
“Hey, we ain’t getting any younger. Am I right?” He laughed.
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“Yeah, but you know the business, Jag. A rock band’s shelf-age is like the half-life of a nuclear bomb, right?” He laughed again. “Hey, look, bud, sorry about your mom, but I got another call.”
“Desmond!” Jaguar said sharply. “Don’t go to the other call.”
The line went quiet for a moment and Jaguar wasn’t sure if Hifler had hung up or not. Finally he heard Hifler’s voice on the line. “Look, Jaguar, I know you’re having a rough time. Shit, man, I get it, but don’t make any rash decisions right now, okay? I think we need to have a meeting with the rest of the band and you need to get back here in LA. We can decide where we want to go in two weeks. Let’s just put everything on ice and we’ll come back to it in two weeks when you’re home.”
Jaguar rubbed his forehead with a hand. This was sound advice. He couldn’t think clearly about anything right now. In two weeks, the funeral would be over and his father would have decided what to do. Then he could go back to LA and pick up where he’d left off.
“Okay, let’s have a band meeting two weeks from today in your office,” he told Hifler.
“Hang on a minute. Let me get you down, so I don’t forget. I’ll have my secretary call the guys and get them in here. Let’s say 2:00 on August 29th. How does that sound?”
“Fine,” said Jaguar, scratching at his beard. “August 29th.”
“Gotta go. Talk to you then.” And he was gone.
Jaguar stared out at the quiet street and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Two weeks. Two weeks from now he’d be back in LA and then he could deal with his career. That meant he didn’t have to think about it until then.
The relief of that was immense. Two weeks without worrying about his band, about his music, about his success. Two weeks without trying to come up with something new, cutting edge, viral. Two weeks.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket, surprised when a car pulled up before the house. He squinted as a heavy-set man got out, followed by a very tiny woman. He rose to his feet as he recognized his old English teacher, Jim Dawson.
Jim Dawson had a paunch and thinning salt and pepper hair. His full beard and moustache hung to the middle of his chest. The woman with him wore a sweater set and a plaid skirt with orthopedic shoes and white tights. Her strawberry blond hair was perfectly coiffed and held in place with hairspray. She wore cat’s eye glasses and carried a glass bowl in her hands.
Walking down the steps, he met them in the middle of the walkway, shaking hands with Dawson. The old man’s grip was firm and he clapped his free hand on Jaguar’s shoulder.
“How are you doing, young man?” he said, patting him.
Jaguar nodded, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Dawson released him and transferred his hand to the small of the woman’s back. “This is Mrs. Dawson.” He gave her a serious look. “This is Jerome, Minnie.”
She held the dish out to him. “I’m so sorry about your mother, Jerome. This is for you and your father. Tuna casserole.”
Jaguar took it, forcing a smile for her. “Thank you, Mrs. Dawson. Would you like to come inside?”
Dawson looked up at the house, drawing both Minnie and Jaguar’s attention to it. He could see his father standing at the front window, glaring out at them.
“Maybe just for a moment,” said Dawson.
Jaguar led them back up the walkway to the stairs. When he pushed open the door, his father had disappeared from the living room. Jaguar figured he was probably in the kitchen, but when he motioned for the Dawsons to follow him there, the room was empty. Jaguar placed the casserole in the refrigerator and turned to his guests.
One of the neighbors had brought a beautiful gluten-free coffee cake over this morning and it sat in the middle of the table. “How about a slice of gluten-free cake and some coffee?” he said. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning, he realized, and his stomach grumbled in protest.
“Sounds delightful, dear,” said Minnie.
She and Dawson sat down at the table, while Jaguar searched through the cabinets for plates, forks, and coffee cups. He realized he’d been here for over a month now, but he still didn’t know where everything went. He set the stuff on the counter and gripped the tiles, fighting the wave of grief that washed over him. His mother had put all this stuff away. She’d arranged it all and even as she’d gotten sick, she’d still come in here to putter about, fixing them food. When he’d first come home before the Redwood Stock concert, she’d made him a sandwich. He remembered watching her standing in this spot, making a sandwich for him.
He felt a hand on his back and he opened his eyes, looking into the brown gaze of Minnie Dawson. “It’s okay, dear,” she said, taking the plates and forks from him. “I’ve got this.” She carried them back to the table and began cutting the coffee cake.
He brought over the mugs and then got the coffee pot. He’d made coffee first thing this morning, but neither he nor his father had gotten a cup. He poured it out and then fetched the milk and sugar, setting them in the middle of the table. Finally, he sank into a chair, the chair his mother always used.
Jim Dawson reached for a mug and the milk. “How’s your father, boy?”
“Shit. Spoons,” said Jaguar, watching Dawson doctor his coffee.
Minnie laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him in the chair. “I’ll get it.”
“Watch your language, boy!” scolded Dawson, setting down the milk and reaching for the sugar.
Minnie pre-empted him, taking the sugar from his hand and replacing it with the spoon. “Remember what the doctor said.” She took a plate of coffee cake and set it in front of him, then did the same for Jaguar. “Eat something, dear,” she told Jaguar, patting his shoulders as she moved over to her own chair.
Jaguar smiled at her and gave her a mug of coffee, then he reached for the milk and poured a little into his own mug, curling his hands around it. He wasn’t sure he could eat anything. His eyes rose to meet Dawson’s. The old teacher was glaring at him the way he’d glared at him in school. He realized Dawson had asked about his father and he hadn’t answered.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “He came home from the hospital and locked himself in his room. I left him alone last night because I was pretty shocked myself, but we need to make…” His voice choked off and he took a deep breath, releasing it. “We need to make funeral arrangements.”
Dawson nodded, taking a bite of his coffee cake.
Jaguar rubbed a hand over his chin, feeling the scratch of his beard again. It grounded him.
Minnie reached over and patted the back of his hand. “Eat something, dear. You’re looking pale.”
He took a bite just to please her, but it tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He forced it down and gulped coffee to chase it away. For some reason, it dawned on him that he didn’t know how the Dawsons had known what happened.
“How did you find out?” he asked.
“It was in the Sequette,” said Dawson.
The Sequette was Sequoia’s daily paper. He’d been in it before for some not so good reasons. He nodded.
“Are they charging the man who hit her?” asked Dawson.
“Jim!” exclaimed Minnie in horror.
He gave her a bewildered shrug. Jaguar almost laughed at the exchange. He’d never seen the grumpy old teacher put in his place before.
“No, he didn’t see her. She just darted out in front of him.”
Minnie covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes grew liquid. Jaguar felt the urge to comfort her, but that seemed ridiculous, considering the situation.
“What are you going to do now, boy?” asked Dawson.
“Jim!” exclaimed Minnie again.
Jaguar reached over and patted her hand. “It’s okay.” He actually found Dawson’s directness refreshing. Jim Dawson wasn’t a complicated man. H
e called it like it was and Jaguar had never doubted where he stood with him. Unlike his own damn father.
Minnie clasped his hand in both her own. He was strangely comforted by the gesture. He’d only just met this woman, but her motherly attention soothed the ragged tangle inside of him, so he let her hold onto him without drawing away.
He focused on his old teacher. Dawson might never have thought he was a bright student, or even a student, but he’d always shown an interest in him, treated him as a human. Maybe not a good human or an intellectually gifted human, but a human that mattered just the same. What other people didn’t realize is that his gruff demeanor, his bald-faced truths hid a man who really cared.
“I don’t know, Mr. Dawson,” he said. “I don’t know what to do. I should go back to LA, but my dad…” He stopped, glancing toward the door.
“I know, boy, I know.”
He did. He knew Jaguar and his father had never seen eye to eye and that wasn’t going to get better now that the buffer between them was gone.
“What do you want to do, boy?” asked Dawson.
Jaguar stared at the man, unblinking. What an interesting question and he didn’t have an answer. What did he want to do?
He just didn’t know anymore.
* * *
That afternoon, Henry drove himself and Jaguar to Barry Bonds Mortuary & Notary. Henry paused on the walkway to the door of the little A-frame cottage and snorted. Jaguar gave the lighted sign a wry look as well. God, sometimes the names in Sequoia were more than he could take. Barry for a man who buries people.
“Maybe I should have brought my will to have him notarize it,” said Henry, shooting a look over his shoulder but not really meeting Jaguar’s gaze. “I’m leaving you my socks of the 50 states collection.”
Jaguar stopped walking, his brow quirking. Was that a joke? With a grumble, Henry started walking again, pulling himself up the concrete steps to the door. Jaguar followed him, feeling his stomach churn. Dear God, he didn’t want to do this.
A somber bell chimed as Henry and Jaguar stepped into a room filled with coffins. Henry reared back, sucking in air. Jaguar wanted to place a hand on his back to steady him, but he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever touched his father, so he curled his hands into fists and stared straight ahead.
A round man in a black suit appeared out of the back room. Although the showroom was cool, he was perspiring and he wiped a handkerchief over his buzz-cut head and down around the side of his face.
He tucked the handkerchief into a jacket pocket, rubbed his hand on the outside of the pocket and extended it to Henry. His small round eyes went beyond Henry to Jaguar. He had very full, red lips and a bulbous nose.
“You must be Mr. Henry Jarvis. We spoke on the phone.”
Henry made a noncommittal grunt and his eyes tracked around the room again.
The man reached beyond Henry, holding out his hand to Jaguar. “I’m Barry Bonds. Not the famous baseball player, if that’s what you were thinking.”
Jaguar hadn’t been thinking that at all, but he took the damp hand and shook it. “Jaguar,” he said.
Henry made another grunt, but Barry Bonds’ gaze traveled down Jaguar’s tattooed arms, then up to his pierced ears. “Right. You’re the rockstar.” When he said rockstar, his eyes widened until there was white around the iris.
“Sure,” said Jaguar.
Barry Bonds’ brows drew down in a frown. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss. Such a shock.”
Henry shifted weight. “Can we just get on with this?”
“Of course.” Bonds motioned to a table behind the display of coffins. “Come this way and we’ll just work out exactly what you’d like for her end of life celebration. Based on what you said on the phone, I took the liberty of drawing up a plan for you.”
Henry sank into the chair and Jaguar sat down next to him. Barry Bonds went around the table and grabbed a leather binder, opening it and taking out a sheet of paper. He passed it to Henry. The older man took the paper and studied it, holding it so Jaguar couldn’t see what it said.
He hadn’t even known his father had contacted the mortuary until he’d come out of his room with his car keys after the Dawsons had left. He’d stood in the entrance to the kitchen, watching Jaguar wash the few dishes they’d used, then he’d cleared his throat.
Jaguar had looked over his shoulder at him and Henry had pointed to the front door. “I’m going to make funeral arrangements for your mother,” he said. He’d dropped his eyes to the floor and drew a breath. “If you want to come…”
Then he’d walked away.
If you want to come.
It was a pretty insignificant exchange as father and son moments went, but Jaguar knew it was Henry’s way of asking him for help. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d dried his hands and hurried after his father, slipping into the passenger seat without protest.
Frankly, Henry scared the hell out of him with his driving, but he wasn’t about to say anything about it now. Some part of him half expected that Henry might make these arrangements without him. He knew his mother had never thought about it. Ida wasn’t a plan for tomorrow type of woman, so she and his father had probably never discussed it.
Now Henry slapped the paper on the table and closed his eyes. Then he pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said and turned for the door.
“What?” asked Jaguar.
“Let’s go. We’ll go to Visalia and see what they can do for us.”
“Visalia?” Jaguar glanced over at Barry Bonds. The mortician sadly shook his head and clasped his hands together on the table.
“Last minute funeral arrangements can be quite costly,” said the mortician.
Henry turned back toward the table as Jaguar reached for the paper. The cost made him suck in air, but this was his mother. He didn’t want her having a cut-rate funeral.
“I said let’s go,” growled Henry.
Jaguar set the paper down on the table and flattened his hand on it. “Mr. Bonds, do you mind if I have a word with my father?”
Barry Bonds’ eyes shifted between the two men, then he grunted his way to his feet. “Of course not,” he said. “I’ll just be tidying up in back.” He pointed to a button on the wall. “Just press that when you’re ready.”
Jaguar didn’t want to think about what needed tidying up in this place, but he just nodded and watched the little man toddle away, disappearing through a door that said Employees Only.
Jaguar patted his father’s chair. “Come sit down.”
“I’m not going to be swindled by the likes of that man.”
“He’s not swindling you and they’re not going to give you a better deal in Visalia. That would mean transporting the bod…” Jaguar’s voice cracked. He cleared it. “Mom to Visalia which will use up any savings you might have gotten there.”
To his surprise, Henry walked back to the table and sank into the chair, bracing his head with his hands. Jaguar gave him a moment, then he shifted to face him. “I know it’s a lot of money.”
Henry dragged his hands down his face. “That’s not the problem. The problem is I don’t have that money. No matter what I do, I don’t have it.” He slapped a hand in the middle of his chest. “I can’t even afford to bury my wife the way I should.”
Jaguar felt a wash of pity. His father had worked driving a forklift for a warehouse his entire life. If he’d made much more than minimum wage, Jaguar would be surprised. The fact that Jaguar had more money than he knew what to do with didn’t matter. His father was a man of pride. He’d worked his ass off for everything he’d gotten. He’d worked a hell of a lot harder than Jaguar ever had.
For a moment, he understood a little about his father.
“I’ll pay for it,” he said. “She was my mother.”
Henry’s face twisted with rage. “Isn’t it bad enough that I live in a house you bought? Now I have to rely on you to pay for my wife’s funeral.” He motioned at Jaguar’s body. “T
hat devil rock’s going to bury her!”
The old, hot rage bubbled to the surface, but Jaguar knew Henry was speaking from a point of hurt, so he tamped it down. “No, Pops, that devil rock isn’t going to bury her.” He tapped a hand in the middle of his chest. “I’m a shrewd investor. Believe it or not. I haven’t squandered the money I’ve made. I’ve invested most of it. And I am now independently wealthy without the devil rock.”
Henry studied him as if he’d never seen him before. “Are you serious? You invest?”
“I invest and it isn’t into irresponsible things either. I research what I invest in.”
“I thought your manager handled your money.”
Jaguar made a scoffing sound. “Did you think I wanted to be robbed? No, I handle it myself. I mean, I have an advisor, but I decide what gets done.”
Henry shook his head in amazement. “You were the worst student in school. You barely graduated.”
“Yeah, everyone keeps reminding me of that.”
“How do you know anything about investing?”
“I learned. I listened to other people.” He pointed at the table. “I read a book.”
Henry barked out a laugh and Jaguar joined him.
“And I studied.”
“I’ll be damned. I thought you just drank and did drugs and slept with…people.”
Jaguar shrugged. “Not as much as you thought. I mean, I did those things, sure, but you know me, I’ve never been able to really commit to anything in my life. Not even drug or alcohol addiction.”
Henry laughed again. Jaguar realized he hadn’t heard his father laugh twice in his entire life. Then Henry’s face fell. “I wanted to be able to provide her with the best.”
“You did.”
He waved a hand over the funeral bill. “I can’t even bury her.”
“But I can and that’s all that matters right now.” He drew a breath and released it. “Look, you and me, we have our issues.”
Henry snorted.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever work them out or if it’ll always be like oil and water for us, but you raised me. You provided for me. You worked your ass off to provide for all of us. I can do this for us. I can do this for her. Let me.”
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