by Claire Perry
“I feel like I live in a war zone. I’ve got to take care of this!” Alice leaped to her feet, her pumps clicking against the tile. Claudia swallowed and shook her head, raven curls falling across her face.
“Mrs. Cornwell, the place your son hangs out after dark is no place for a reputable lady like yourself. I’m not just saying this because of your reputation either, miss. It’s only. Well… I’m afraid you might be assaulted. At least let me go with you. I’m trained in martial arts.” Claudia shrugged.
Alice admired the Yiddish-Israeli woman with a soft smile, remembering her many hair-raising stories of a youth spent in the Israeli Defense Forces patrolling the Golan. Now that she thought about it, it might be nice to have someone at her side if this thing got out of hand. No one in Alice’s circle was more qualified than Claudia Nagant.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ll pay you extra for it on this week’s check.” Alice gracefully extended a hand.
“Oh, there’s no need for that, ma’am. I’m as troubled about your son as you are.” Claudia bashfully looked to the floor. Alice realized that Claudia and Joe were the same age. It wasn’t hard to put together that her unassuming housemaid had been one of hundreds of girls that had mistakenly fallen in love with Joseph Cornwell.
How many more trains was Joe going to wreck before he got his way? How many more hearts were yet to be broken? What would be the full sum consequence of his impulsive actions? Alice hated to think of it. The world might as well be at its end, crisply burning in the wake of all her neatly folded money and the bed linens of his lust.
“I’ll pay you for this just the same. I might as well do something good with my money before my son wastes it all on liquor and prostitutes.”
---
The two climbed into Alice’s Cadillac El Dorado and shot through the night. Claudia clung to her seat with wide eyes and PTSD-labored breaths. Alice felt her blood pressure rising to the top of her head. This dear girl shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in this. Those people at the neighborhood Starbucks shouldn’t have been disturbed.
Oh, the thin fabric that weaves society together! How one card can slip and the whole house collapse over everyone’s heads! Joe and his selfish ways were about to unravel the chain that linked Alice’s entire empire together. Hundreds of people would reap the whirlwind because he was unwilling to wait for clarity and to consider carefully the choices he made.
She knew the way to the dive club by heart. How many hundreds of times had Alice come to collect Joe from the teeth of Perdition’s Ritz?
In a stomach wrenching way, this place was almost nostalgic for Alice. She stormed through the swinging classic saloon doors like a scene from a Spaghetti Western and surveyed the entire room accusingly.
They were assorted in their ways; from gangbangers to gunslingers, debunked businessmen to wayward junkies. These were the souls that day-walking men had come to fear, and seldom were they fearful. Yet when they saw the fire in Alice Cornwell’s eyes that night, they parted like the Red Sea before Moses and the Lord.
The stage was occupied by a drifter band that had never made it to the hot lights of Hollywood. Rotting Icarus writhed on stage as though they were under the heavy heel of demonic possession.
Alice put the fear of righteousness in them, whistling through their fingers to alert the audience that she was now totally in charge of the stage. She thrust her fist into the control box, ripping fuses that set the pyrotechnics haywire. The stage blew and the drummer went down with his cage, rolling over the bar and being half-drowned by a massive cabinet of gin he brought down upon himself. Fire licked up behind the bar. The young bartender screamed as his pants leg caught on fire. He took a mad dash for the toilet.
Alice snatched a microphone from one of the rolling, writhing grunge metal players and scooped him off the stage with the toe of her boot.
“Okay, listen up, geeks! Whoever wants to keep their wallets and not be used to chronic hemorrhoid infestation had better speak up! Have any of you seen or heard from Joseph Cornwell in the last 48 hours?” The room grew desperately quiet. They were holding their breaths waiting for the inevitable domestic showdown that had been years in the making and was finally culminating tonight.
“Mother?!” Joe came staggering from out of the “Boiler Room” with six different women hanging from his arms. His face was twisted like a scream mask in total disgust that Alice was here tonight.
“Hello, my charming boy.” Alice snatched a highball glass straight from the hand of one of his many dates and hurled the fruity liquor into Joe’s face. He uttered a cat-like shriek. His many dates scattered like cockroaches to shaded corners of the room.
“What the hell, woman?!” Joe flicked liquor away from his eyes and cast it back at her, watching it drip from her shirt.
“You’re asking me, Joe?! You’re the one who shows up at my business conference at the very end of the day right before the dinner where we make the big important deal and announce you’ve already asked some floosy to marry you! Of course, you lied. You weren’t going to ask her until the next night when you had stolen the Venus’ Heart right from the conference briefcase! Do you have any idea what kind of global scandal you’ve caused? How bad this looks for investment in China, Japan, Paris and Abu Dhabi?! You’ve thrown a monkey wrench into the rest of your future, boy! This will set me back millions of dollars. Millions of dollars that I was going to use to enhance industry and produce for us – for you – billions of dollars.” Alice was still holding the glass. She hurled it on the ground and shattered the last of it with her heel. Glass shrapnel sprayed the front row of the audience. Claudia’s PTSD kicked in and she ducked under a card table, folding her knees and clamping her teeth down on her knuckles.
“You’re not actually reeling from the loss of one particularly large diamond. Don’t talk down to me, you hag! This isn’t about the good of the company or about business politics in the world market. This is about you controlling my life!” Joe reached to the bar behind him and plucked a bottle of Bacardi, hurling it at her. It shattered on her chest, sticking her with glass and drenching her in liquor. She screamed and beat her palms into her thighs, eyes dancing with rage and horror. Who was this person? What had he done with her boy?
“I wouldn’t have any interest in controlling your life if you would get your life under control!” Alice reached behind her and grabbed one of the mic stands, swinging it heavily toward the side of Joe’s head. The patrons screamed in furious eagerness. At least they might get an epic fight out of their trashed party.
Claudia leaped to her feet. She pounced Alice and swung her out of the way as Joe grabbed the mic stand with all of his strength and swung it back around in her direction. It struck Claudia instead, heavily across the chin. She went sailing across the room and crashed into a garbage can line-up, leaving dents in the metal cans and passing out cold.
The millionaire and her son stood staring down at her limp body for a moment of suspended silence. The audience teemed together around her. They turned in angry collaboration to face Joe. For a motley crew, they had an unspoken honor system at their bar. Joe had just broken it by potentially breaking the jaw of a woman who’d had no dog in his fight and didn’t even want to be here. He would never be welcome again for all the trouble he’d caused.
“Oh, I’ve had it with you! How long, Joey? How many more people have to get hurt before you see the error of your ways? Will you ever learn to think with something other than the brain you keep between your legs? Money is a curse before it ever can be a blessing. Remember that, boy. Until you learn to be a lover first and not always this player, miserable is all that you’re ever going to be.” Alice jabbed a finger in Joe’s face. She’d almost forgotten in the commotion that she was just as guilty as Joe was. She’d come in tearing the place up and catching things on fire. If the ill-reputed bar stood a chance against her in court, the manager would have sued her. Alice felt her face flush with heat even as she jabbed a finger under her son’
s nose. She was a hypocrite and had taught him to be this way. Horror gripped her gut. The wise men were correct after all. She had created her own demons.
The bar’s bouncer came and grabbed first Alice and then Joe by the arm. He was about to escort them both to the door when a woman stepped up from the employee’s lounge.
“Wait! She’s staying with me. Take him, though. Feed him to the fish for all I care.” The mystery woman winked.
“Quite a show you put on, lady. Better than my boys even, and I’m pretty partial as manager of Rotting Icarus, eh? You and your friend. Let me buy you guys a drink…” The manager nodded to her band to get to resetting the bar. The lead singer headed for the bathroom to retrieve the singed bartender.
Two bikers gently escorted Claudia to what remained of the barstools. She coughed blood into a napkin and gave Alice a brave smile. Alice felt microscopic now. This would not end without tears and blood.
Chapter 4
They gathered the pieces of the wasted club. Alice’s guilt was metastasizing.
“Let me write you a check for the damages. I feel bad… He got bounced and I’m the one who pulled the plugs out of the fuse box.” Alice handed the manager a check that made his eyes light up with wonder. His anger melted and he nodded.
“Well, that somewhat makes up for what you did. Don’t ever show your face here after tonight and I say we’ll be good as gold.” He turned and walked away.
The band manager settled on a bent barstool and lit up a Marlboro, blowing a ring in the bartender’s face. She looked sidelong at Claudia, who chewed her lips and rubbed her arms.
“Reggie, you make a damn good Last Word, and somebody here needs to take the metaphor that comes with the name. Mix one up for my girl, here.” She laid a hand between Claudia’s shoulders and the girl jumped.
“You’ve got that thousand yard stare. I should know. I was in Afghanistan a few years back. Who’d you serve with?” She smirked at Claudia’s surprise.
“Israeli Defense Forces. I saw my best friend die and I’ve never been right since.” She shrugged.
The manager drew from the cigarette and stared into the roof and the cosmos above it. She grunted low in her throat and then started laughing.
“Mm, I know how that is, baby doll. The battlefield will bring out some powerful love and pain in you. Love… It’s our addiction and downfall, eh?” She shook her head and looked straight into Alice’s eyes.
“This is what’s brought you down from the heights, eh? Oh, don’t look at me like that, Mrs. Cornwell. Every girl that loves diamonds knows who you are.” She laughed and extended a hand. Alice and Claudia could now see that her fingers were covered in rings.
“My name is Alexis Sparks.”
Alice gripped Alexis’ hand with all her strength, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over her.
“For the Jewel of the Universe, I’d say we have Reggie here make a Bijou. Fun fact, kids. That’s French for ‘jewel.’” Alexis smiled at Reggie, who popped his knuckles and got to work. Then she turned to face the girls.
“You’ve got yourself one hell of a predicament, Mrs. Cornwell. Not gonna mince any words with you tonight, if that’s okay.”
“Just Alice, please. Tell me straight. I need all the help I can get with this boy. You’re talking about the battlefield bringing out love and hurt. God knows the battlefield we create is the worst place for that. I’m in smithereens. Piece me together.” Alice studied the toe of her shoes, slightly embarrassed for spilling so much of her guts to this woman she’d met 20 minutes ago. She was easy to talk to and an expert at listening.
“Oh, dolly, if I could do that, I wouldn’t still be hustling for my washed-up band. We used to be somebody. Well, the Afghanis liked our gigs anyway…” Alexis looked off into space, letting the cigarette dance in between her fingers, keeping time with her rhythmic tapping on the cherry wood countertop.
“Well, spitballing here. If I were you and my kid were off his nut like that… I’d have somebody keep tabs on him for me 24/7. It’s not a crime to keep track of the way your money is being spent, ya hear me? And for God’s sakes, no more manhandling! You should never physically charge a dude, lady. He’ll always come back swinging with both barrels, gendered rules of engagement be damned. It’s his nature, after all. Likewise, he shouldn’t be allowed to bully you. No, your family needs intervention. This wild card kid of yours is liable to tear San Francisco off its bricks before we’re through. Lucky for you, I know people.” She plucked a small card from her bomber jacket and passed it to Alice.
“I knew him from the service. Good man. He’ll like you, girl. He used to run with IDF troops. A former intelligence officer. Sorry, I can’t tell you his name. He’s got house rules and all that. Anyway, go to that address. He’ll fix you up with people finding and watching services better than any app you could download. Hell, he’d give the Stazi a run for their money!” She winked at Claudia and tossed her head back.
Alice and Claudia exchanged a glance. They knew what tomorrow’s agenda was. With the crazy feud that Alice had been having with Joe for years over women, this was a daunting task. Alice quivered. She felt like Judas for contemplating it. He was right in some respects. When it came to Joe’s love life, she’d been a total ogress!
He was out of control. Nose diving faster than Apollo 13 in reverse. If she loved her son, then she would weather this battlefield. Take this pain. This war would kill her. She loved Joe regardless. Enough to take up proverbial arms against him.
Chapter 5
The address that Sparks had given them had led them north of San Francisco close to the Oregon state line. They were convinced they were lost when they wandered into the definition of a “boonies” village. Then they saw the house, perched like a sparrow on top of a cliff overlooking the sea.
Several redwoods shaded the ancient shanty that was barely bigger than a tool shed. Alice held her breath as she pulled up to it. Twilight made it catch ghost fires and reflected its graying white paint with an air of sorrow. She shook her head, wondering what would have inspired someone to result to such exile.
They pulled up his dusty red driveway, holding their breath anticipating some kind of attack. They were met instead by the friendly braying of an eager Old English Sheep dog.
“Oh! Hey, doggy!” Alice leaped out of the Cadillac and buried her hands in the dog’s wild hair. It panted and barked in her face. She realized suddenly that she was quaking with laughter. A simple life like that an animal leads could be medicine. Despite the intense stress of last night, even Claudia was suddenly calm.
“Gandhi!” A man’s voice called from behind the house and down the hill a good way off. He came running up through the dust a book bag full of oranges slung over his arm. They both studied him, stunned.
He was much younger than they’d expected from his reputation. In fact, he couldn’t be older than 33. Yet his life had obviously been marked with horrors that the both of them combined had difficulty grasping. He was dressed in swimming trunks and a muscle shirt. As much of his skin as was exposed, they could see that his whole body was mangled with precise scars. No explosion or gunfire could have done something so horrifying. He’d been held down under an instrument. Someone, once upon a time, had tormented this young man and disfigured him. Now his exile made perfect sense. His appearance and suffering had clothed him in shame.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Claudia stepped forward.
“Hello. Your friend, Ms. Sparks, sent us here.” She smiled, twisting her fingers in her white t-shirt. His jaw dropped. Claudia was totally unaware of the fact that she was a shockingly beautiful woman. With her large ebony eyes and spring curled black hair that came just to the top of her shoulders, one might believe she was Spanish and not the child of an Israeli mother and a Yiddish immigrant father. She had olive skin that she wasn’t showing off all that much, her stonewashed denim shorts meeting the dollar bill test. The unassuming Israeli patrol guard turned hou
semaid had broken the hearts of so many men without knowing. Yet now, her heartbreaking image had enraptured a soul that needed an angel to shake off his dust.
The man smiled and smoothed his soaked brown hair back over his skull. It came to his chin before he reached a rubber wristband back over his hand and tied it in a stubby pigtail. This revealed more scars on his neck and cheeks that were slashed in downward shapes like white tears.
“I see you guys have met Gandhi. He’s nothing but a teddy bear.”
“I know! He’s polished all my jewelry with his crazy licking routine!” Alice stood up giggling and wiped her hands on her jeans. She swallowed the urge to cry out faced with this man’s scars. He shifted awkwardly on his heels.
“Okay, so it had to be important if Sparks broke the unspoken house rule.”
“Which is?” Claudia raised a brow.
He smiled.
“Never send visitors.” He winked at her. She shook her head.
“Why not? You have such beautiful property. Wonderful place to entertain friends.” She bowed her head, knowing why, but not wanting to think along those lines. War should not define its survivors, and yet it did.
“A shame to waste the wealth, I know. I’ve had plenty of days to regret it, but reasons to uphold it too. My name’s Matt. Now that you’re here, you’re welcome to be my guests.” He stretched a hand to hers and shook it with a warm smile.
“I have beachfront, lawn chairs, and an orange juice bar made of a surfboard lean-to. Come on. We’ll set up camp and you can give me the down low.”
---
They sat along a sun-bleached log, watching as Matt mixed up fresh orange juice from the contents of his bag and drained it off into three respective coconut shells.
“Sorry, no glassware in hiding, ladies.” He smiled sheepishly as he handed them each their drink.
“Oh, no worries. We came unannounced. No reason to roll out the red carpet to intruders.” Claudia took a long sip of the fresh juice, eyes going wide.