Jack of Diamonds

by Christopher Greyson

  All the ladies’ mouths fell open, except for Shawna’s. She was dancing in her seat again. “You’re early, but who cares! Let’s get this party started!” She drained her margarita and pointed at the waiter to bring her another.

  Alice had no idea what to expect at a bachelorette party, but a clown was definitely not on her list of possibilities. She cast a curious glance at Marisa, who gave her a sympathetic look. Puzzled, Alice turned to Shawna, who wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  The clown pulled out a toy radio that started to play a merry tune. It sounded like the opening of a kids’ TV show. The clown started tapping his oversized shoes, then spun around and turned his back to the women. He was huffing and puffing and hunched over a little bit as his hands started moving.

  “Here comes the good part!” Shawna raised her hands over her head and clapped along with the music.

  The clown spun back around and triumphantly lifted his arms. In his hands was a crown of balloons. He gave another bow while motioning with his free hand for the ladies to applaud, which they did. Smiling, he placed the crown on Alice’s head.

  Shawna’s smile came crashing down. “Okay, okay, get on with it.”

  The clown nodded rapidly and produced a blue balloon from his pocket, which he quickly fashioned into the shape of a dog.

  Shawna shook her head. “Enough with the balloon animals. Start dancing.” She stood up and swayed her hips.

  The clown nodded and broke into a funny jig.

  “No. No.” Shawna grabbed his elbow and gyrated her hips. The clown started imitating her, causing Marisa and Nyah to start chuckling. Shawna pulled at her blouse a bit, and the clown mirrored her actions.

  “No.” Shawna tugged the clown’s arm until the man leaned down. She whispered something in his ear.

  The clown looked like he’d been hit by lightning. He stood up straight and his whole body shook. “What kind of clown do you think I am?” He yanked the blue dog out of Shawna’s hand and stormed out of the room, his puffy red wig catching momentarily on the beads as he went.

  “You mean he wasn’t a stripper?” Nyah doubled over laughing. “He was really a clown?”

  Alice, Nyah, and Marisa roared with laughter. Annie looked curiously at Marisa, who somehow, between giggles, managed to sign what was going on. Annie turned beet-red and started laughing, too.

  Shawna squeezed the balloon so hard it popped. Everybody jumped, but even Shawna started laughing. “Hey, I’ve still got endless margaritas!” She smiled as the waiter came in with her drink.

  As the laughter died down, Alice glanced at her watch and sighed. The party was scheduled to go on for another two hours. She hoped Jack was having a better time at his bachelor party than she was at hers.

  9

  Jack and Bobbie G. walked through the door of Hannigan’s, and Jack smiled. Before joining the army, he’d spent many nights here shooting pool. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes was a familiar welcome.

  “I got us a table in the back,” Bobbie said as he waved to the bartender and held up a hand with two fingers out. “This is on me. They’ve still got the best drafts. Alice said you were cool if it’s only a couple of guys coming, right? And knowing you, going to La Jolla strip club or hiring a stripper to come to us is out?”

  “Small is good. And no strippers.” Apart from an occasional raid or a disturbance call, Jack had never been in a strip club, even in the army, and he never looked at porn, either. His mother being a prostitute, he’d always had a fear that he’d open the magazine and she’d be in it; his stomach curdled at the thought, even years later. As he got older, knowing that all those girls were someone’s mother, sister, or daughter was enough to keep his eyes off any of that crap.

  The waitress hurried over with their beers, and Jack took his first cool sip after a long, confusing day, letting the liquid coat his throat. He was about to ask Bobbie who was coming when the front door swung wide and a short black man jumped in shouting, “Boomer is in the house!”

  “Keep it down,” the bartender shouted back. But judging by the smile on his face, Jack guessed this was an ongoing thing between them.

  Bobbie waved. “Over here, big man!”

  Boomer was only five foot two, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he strutted around. He’d gotten his nickname when they were kids, because he loved explosions and large crashes—bottles, cans, bikes, fireworks—he loved making things go boom.

  “Jack, my man!” Boomer launched into a complicated set of fist-bumping and hand-clapping that ended when Jack grabbed Boomer’s wrist and dragged him forward for a shoulder bump. “How you doin’, man?” yelled Boomer. “I heard you’re getting hitched!”

  Jack rubbed his stubbled chin and pretended to look shocked. “That’s the rumor I heard, too.”

  As Bobbie G. and Boomer performed their greeting ritual, Jack saw two of his army buddies walk through the front door. “Finn! Mac! Over here!” he called out.

  They waved and made their way to the table. Mac’s freckled face broke into a grin. “Someone went and told me that you were about to do something crazy, but I didn’t believe ’em until I saw it with my own eyes in the paper. I still don’t believe it.” He clasped Jack’s wrist and pulled him forward until their chests bumped.

  “Believe it, Mac. I’m glad you could make it. Now you’re here, the party can start.” Mac’s rough-and-tumble humor and legendary capacity for drink had entertained the lonely, scared troops many times in Iraq, and Jack was truly glad to see him, as well as Finnian Church, his brave friend from the same tour of duty.

  Mac moved aside and Finn reached out his hand.

  As Jack shook it, he made sure he kept eye contact and didn’t lower his gaze to Finn’s prosthetic leg. “Good to see you again, Finn.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. And thanks for the reference, by the way.”

  “How’s the new job?” Jack asked.

  “Going really well. I didn’t know what I thought insurance investigation would be, but—”

  “Are you kidding me? You should check out his new girlfriend. She’s smoking hot!” Mac grabbed Finn around the shoulders and laughed. For the first time, Jack smelled the whiskey on Mac’s breath.

  “She’s my partner, Mac. Leave it at that,” Finn said.

  “I’m just bustin’ on ya.” Mac pulled Finn even closer. “Lighten up.”

  From the tightness around Finn’s eyes, Jack knew Mac had crossed a line and was wondering whether he needed to cool things off when Bobbie G. flashed a look around the group and held up his big hand. “More drafts over here!”

  Boomer picked up a pool cue. “I’m Boomer.” He pointed at Bobbie. “That’s Bobbie G. We all know Jack. So, now that the introductions are out of the way, twenty bucks a game, I break first.” He grinned broadly.

  “You’re not hustling tonight,” Bobbie said.

  “He’s just keeping it interesting.” Mac strutted forward and grabbed a cue off the wall. “What say we make it fifty and make this a real challenge?”

  “How about we make it five and keep it friendly?” Jack said. “And the beers are on me.”

  “Agreed,” Bobbie said. “But I got this round.”

  The waitress came over, everybody grabbed a beer, and Boomer moved to the head of the pool table. Mac racked and Boomer broke. The five of them took turns talking and playing. Despite Boomer’s and Mac’s bragging, they were all fairly evenly matched, but Finn was winning more games than anyone.

  But as the night rolled on, Mac was putting back three beers to everyone else’s one. They had only been there for a couple of hours and were having a good time, although Mac was getting louder and more obnoxious, sloshing the beer on the floor and himself, morphing into a belligerent toddler before their eyes. The bartender signaled to Bobbie and had a short chat with him. When Bobbie walked back to the table, he was frowning. He whispered to Jack, “The bartender wants us to cut Mac off.”

  Jack nodded. “I don’t want to sing
le him out. Let’s just wrap up. Last game!” he called out.

  Mac banged his pool cue off the edge of the table. “You gotta be kiddin’ me. I was just warming up.”

  “I figured we’d head back over to my place, order some wings and pizza. Can you still get any movie, Boomer?”

  “Even if it’s still in theaters!” Boomer boasted.

  Mac turned to Boomer and shut one eye like he was trying to remember something. After a minute he shrugged and said, “Hey, little guy, swing by the packy and grab us a couple of cases of beer.”

  “Who you—” Boomer started, but Bobbie grabbed his arm.

  “I didn’t mean nothin’.” Mac waved his hand as he racked the balls. “I forgot your name. Sorry.” He gave a mock bow.

  “Whatever.” Boomer pulled his arm free.

  Mac pointed at Finn. “You gonna break or what?”

  Finn moved to the head of the table. The only mistakes he’d made so far tonight were on his breaks. When Finn leaned forward, he seemed to have an issue with his balance, and Jack knew it was not because of the three beers he’d drunk; Finn had lost his left leg just below the knee in the war.

  As Finn pushed forward to break, his weight shifted awkwardly to his left leg and he pitched forward into the edge of the pool table. His cue shot upward and bashed into the light hanging over the table. It didn’t break, but it bounced around like a ship at sea and made a loud clatter as it rocked.

  “I’m sorry!” Finn blurted out, shame spreading across his face.

  “Don’t apologize,” Mac scoffed. “You sound like a wimp.”

  Jack reached up and stilled the wildly swinging lamp. “It’s fine. Nothing broken,” he said.

  “I’m really sorry,” Finn said again.

  “Stop apologizing,” Mac muttered, and swore. “I mean, you don’t have a leg to stand on! Get it?” He roared with laughter.

  Jack stepped forward. “That’s crossing a line, Mac. Back off.”

  Mac puffed up. “You’re good at givin’ advice, aren’t you, Stratton?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re drunk, Mac. Just shut up,” Boomer said.

  Mac ignored him and focused on Jack. “He hit a light. Big deal. He’s a soldier. He shouldn’t be going around groveling.” Mac deliberately banged the light with his pool cue. The light shot sideways and almost struck the ceiling.

  “Hey!” Bobbie G. stood up.

  “Dial it down, Mac.” Finn held up a hand as he put his pool cue in the rack on the wall. “Let’s just head over to Jack’s.”

  Mac swore again and leveled the pool cue at Jack, the tip dipping up and down like a fishing pole with a catch on the line. “Alison listened to you, and that’s why she left me. Now, that’s crossing a line, old buddy!”

  Mac rested the cue on his shoulder and walked around the table to face Jack. Bobbie G. moved closer to Jack.

  “Alison called me,” Jack said, motioning for Bobbie G. to back off. “And I talked to you right after that. I drove all the way to Maine to talk to you both. Isn’t Alison at the bachelorette party? You told me she was coming to the wedding.”

  “Maybe. That’s why I’m here. I want to talk to her.” Mac smiled, his eyes glassy and bloodshot.

  Boomer moved behind Mac. He held up his hand and pointed at his head, the index finger circling his ear. He’s crazy, he mouthed.

  “You’re not making any sense, Mac,” Jack said.

  “She left me ’cause of you. Won’t even talk to me. I haven’t even heard from her since then. It’s been over four months! Right after you came up, she started on about my drinking and kicked me out! That’s your marriage advice?”

  “I’m sorry—” Jack started, but Mac’s face twisted into a snarl and his fingers tightened around the cue. He lifted the cue off his shoulder and started to swing it at Jack.

  Bobbie, Boomer, and Finn all jumped and tackled Mac to the floor.

  Mac screamed, kicked, swore, and spat as he struggled against the three men. Jack thought of what he could say to calm his friend down, but one look at the drunken rage on Mac’s red face told him it was pointless to try.

  “Get him outta here or I’m calling the cops!” the bartender yelled.

  Bobbie grabbed Mac in a bear hug and lifted him up. Boomer grabbed his legs.

  “Don’t hurt him!” Jack said.

  Finn put a hand on Jack’s arm. “I’ll get him to calm down outside.”

  “He shouldn’t be alone.”

  “He won’t be,” Finn said. “I’ll take him with me to my hotel room. I’ll watch out for him.”

  “Are you sure you can handle that?”

  The muscles in Finn’s jaw flexed as he glared at Jack. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was tight.

  Jack glanced down at Finn’s leg and shook his head. “No, Finn, all I meant was that it can take more than one person to deal with someone that drunk. You want me to go with you?”

  Finn’s hands balled into fists, then relaxed; he squared his posture and his lips made a straight line. Jack knew that look all too well—the expression a guy put on when he wanted to accept help but he had to say no.

  “I’m good. Sorry about the party. See you in a few days at the wedding.” Finn tipped his head toward the front, where they could faintly hear Mac’s drunken roars outside, and could see Boomer and Bobbie holding him between them. “I’d better go calm him down.”

  Jack watched Finn walk to the door, his limp more noticeable now. Jack knew he’d lost more than a leg in the war. They’d all lost something—Mac included.

  Some wounds were just harder to see.

  10

  Alice parked her little blue Bug outside their apartment and shut off the engine. As she sat in the parked car, she chuckled softly at the memory of the clown storming off and getting his red wig stuck in the beads. But her smile slowly faded and wedding anxiety returned, a constant ebb and flow of excitement and stress. Ever since Jack had asked her to marry him, she’d been doubting if she was good enough for him.

  If she was being honest with herself, that feeling of inadequacy had always been there.

  Ever since her parents died, she’d felt cast aside, guilty about surviving, and angry at being left behind. And now that she’d found out they were killed in a car crash, and her grandfather was possibly alive, that feeling of being abandoned had only grown. Why would Jack want someone like her? Especially compared to Marisa?

  Alice pulled down the visor mirror and stared at her reflection. She tried not to compare herself to the now-blonde bombshell, but she couldn’t help it. Tall, beautiful, talented . . . Marisa was perfect.

  Alice let her head sag forward until her forehead touched the steering wheel. She’d never wanted a big, fancy wedding, and this monster was out of control. She knew Pierce meant well, but it was too much. Too much to do. Too much stress. Too much pressure.

  Worst of all, everyone was coming. Even Jack’s biological mother.

  Maybe we could elope?

  It wasn’t the first time she’d had the thought, but she slumped again as she pictured Aunt Haddie’s disappointed face. No, there was no getting out of the mess she was in. She let herself decompress for a few more moments in the car, letting the solitude bring her a measure of comfort.

  Less than a week. Six more days, and it would all be done. All the fittings, flowers, and running around would soon be in the past, and she and Jack would be headed to a cozy hotel in the Bahamas. Pierce had tried to give them a trip to Paris, but Jack had put his foot down on that one.

  She got out of the car and started for the steps. A dark sedan was parked near the stairs, and the dome light flicked on as both the passenger and driver opened the doors and got out. The driver was a bear of a man—a short bear, only about five foot five, but he had broad shoulders and a thick neck, and his chest was as wide as a barrel.

  The passenger was a middle-aged woman, slim and petite. She moved with the grace of a ballerina as s
he stepped around the car, stopped next to the man, and held his hand. There was something familiar about her. Was it her hair? Maybe it was the sharpness of her features? Alice found herself staring as she continued toward the stairs.

  “Alice?” the woman asked hesitantly.

  Alice’s breath caught in her throat and her feet stopped moving. Her legs shook. Suddenly there wasn’t just one thing familiar about this woman—it was everything. Her voice, her deep-brown hair, her light-bronze skin, and especially her high cheekbones. Her mind filled with images from her childhood, images of her mother.

  “How do you know my name?” Alice asked, unable to take her eyes away.

  The old man’s face broke into a huge grin. “Kaya Kukla!” His deep voice rumbled like a summer thunderstorm.

  Kaya Kukla. Little doll. Her little brothers used to call her that. Andrew would shout “Kaya!” and Alex would respond, “Kukla!”

  Her knees buckled. The man rushed forward and clamped two huge hands on her shoulders to keep her from falling.

  “Uncle Alex?” Alice asked, bewildered.

  “She remembers!” Alex beamed at the woman and ran a hand through his thick, close-cropped gray hair. “I told you she would remember! Technically, I am your great-uncle,” he added, patting her cheek.

  “I am Yana.” The woman placed a slender hand on Alice’s back. “Your cousin.”

  Alice opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. How was this possible? Why were they here now?

  Uncle Alex wrapped his large arms around her and hugged her to his massive chest. He smelled of pine. His jacket felt damp and she realized she was crying.

  “Don’t crush her!” Yana chided as she, too, hugged Alice.

  “How did you find me?” Alice finally asked, struggling to wrap her head around the idea of family outside of Jack and Aunt Haddie.

  Alex glanced around the parking lot. “It’s a long story. Perhaps we could speak inside?”

  “Yes, of course, please come up.” She gestured toward the front door. “If Jack’s home, you’ll get to meet him.”