Jack of Diamonds

by Christopher Greyson

  Mei shook her head. “It’s very bad luck to marry on the fourth. Especially April, because it’s the fourth month. Four-four.”

  “What does that mean in Chinese?” Castillo asked.

  Mei’s eyes met Jack’s, and he saw true fear. “The word for four sounds like the word for death. Your wedding date means two deaths.”

  19

  Jack was halfway to his car when he saw Mac stepping out of a white rental. Gray streaks cooled the flames of Mac’s unkempt fiery red hair. His shirt was untucked, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t meet Jack’s gaze, and his hands were balled into fists as he stomped forward.

  Jack didn’t want to fight his friend, but he had a rule about never letting himself become someone else’s punching bag. When Mac was still ten feet away, Jack called out, “Morning, Mac.” It was a greeting, but it was also a warning to stop.

  Mac swayed as he slowed.

  “One second.” Jack took out his phone, typed a quick text, and hit send.

  Mac’s whole body was so tense he was shaking, a vein threatening to burst from his neck. “You don’t give me orders, Stratton!” he bellowed.

  Jack looked over at the Charger, now rocking back and forth. Lady was pacing in the back seat.

  “You shouldn’t have called her, Jack.”

  “I told you, Alison called me. She was worried about you. We all are now. You fooled me for a while there. You said everything was fine.”

  Mac’s head snapped up and Jack saw the pain and rage in his eyes. “What do you want me to say? You want me to break down and cry? Fall apart? No way. I’m a soldier doing what we’re taught. I just keep fighting.”

  “Sure,” Jack said, “but you got wounded. You’ve got to heal before you get back in the action.”

  “Wounded? Not me. I’m the only one who made it out without a scratch.”

  Jack touched his own chest. “Some of the worst wounds you don’t see.”

  “Alison said that, too.” Mac’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Did she get that from you?”

  “Her words. Not mine.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  Jack scoffed. “Fine? I have nightmares every time I close my eyes. I was just where you are not long ago. I thought I could drown the pain. The only problem is you drown yourself, and anyone who cares enough about you has to try to swim out and save you.”

  “Are you talking about Alison? I’d never hurt her!”

  Lady pushed her snout out through the four-inch gap at the top of the window and growled.

  “No, I’m talking about Alice,” Jack said. “My drinking was dragging her down with me. It was hurting her. Just like your drinking hurts Alison.”

  Mac swore and gazed out into the parking lot, unable to look Jack in the eye.

  Jack crossed his arms. “Truth hurts. My mistake. I thought you could take it.”

  Mac pressed the knuckles of his right hand against his head. He swore at Jack again. “Mind your own business! If she calls you again, don’t talk to her.”

  “Too late.” Jack uncrossed his arms and readied himself in case Mac chose to attack. “She called me last night.”

  Mac’s eyes blazed. “You told her about the bachelor party?”

  “I did. And she told me that you’d been trying to get sober.”

  “I have been!” Mac screamed, the veins in his neck prominent against his red skin. Jack wondered if he’d have much of an interior left in the Charger the way Lady was thrashing about. She wanted out. She wanted to do her job—protecting Jack.

  “I’m doing everything I can to save my marriage,” Mac said. “I’m working. I’m paying the bills.”

  “I know that. And Alison knows it; she sees how hard you’re working. She’s also really worried about your drinking.”

  “Because of you! You told her to go to that group. All they do is sit around and bad-mouth me. Do you know that? They sit in a circle and complain and tell her what a loser I am!”

  “That’s not what happens, and you know it, Mac. Alison doesn’t know how to help you, but it’s gotten to the point where she needs to help herself.”

  “We help each other. We should be together.”

  “You’re hurting her, and you don’t even see it.”

  “I’m trying! You have no idea how hard I’m trying.” Mac stumbled sideways. “I even went to the doctor to get some happy pills.”

  “Which is another reason you shouldn’t be drinking.”

  Mac shrugged. “The pills weren’t working. I figured they needed some help.”

  “You’re going to kill yourself, Mac. Those pills need time to kick in. You need time and you need help. You’re fighting on your own, but there are people who want to help you.”

  “I’m a soldier! I don’t need anyone else.”

  “You didn’t say that in Iraq.”

  “None of those guys would sit in some room and cry like a bunch of babies.”

  “That’s not how it works.” Jack reached into his pocket and took out a business card. “Remember Boomer?” Mac nodded. “His girlfriend lives in Marshfield. It’s one town over from your house. There’s a support group there.”

  “I’m not going to AA.”

  “It’s not AA, although I think you need that too. It’s a survivors’ support group.”

  “Why is Boomer’s girlfriend there? Was she in the military?”

  “She saw her brother die in a drive-by. It’s a support group for survivors of violence.”

  “That ain’t me. What violence did I survive?”

  “You don’t get more violent than war. There are a lot of us veterans there.” Jack held out the card.

  Mac spat on the ground. “No thanks.” He turned back to his car, then spun around to face Jack once more, swaying like a reed in the wind. “Stay away from Alison. I’m warning you.”

  “I can’t let you drive.”

  Mac’s chuckle turned into a forced laugh and his glassy eyes tried to locate Jack. “Really?”

  “C’mon, Mac, give me the keys. I’ll give you a ride wherever you want to go.”

  “The closest bar?”

  Jack held out his hand.

  Mac cracked his knuckles. “I’ve always wanted to see if you’re really as badass as everyone says.”

  Jack took out his Taser. It was a kinder option than using the remote to open the Charger’s door and letting Lady set Mac straight.

  Mac stopped, confused. “I thought you wanted to fight me.”

  “That’s the last thing I want. Not to sound like one of those sappy guys sitting around in a circle, but I love you, man. You saved my life. I’m trying to repay the favor.”

  Mac’s face twitched and he pointed at the Taser. “That ain’t fair. Fight me!”

  “No. Keys.”

  “This is illegal.” Mac shook his head. “You can’t just Tase me.”

  “If you want to file a complaint, the sheriff’s office is right behind me. Keep in mind, I’ll lie and say you attacked me. You’re drunk. They’ll believe me.”

  “You’re a Boy Scout. You can’t lie.”

  “Chandler was the Boy Scout. You picked the alternative. I can’t let you drive and risk killing yourself or someone else. I can call the cops, but they’ll arrest you. Or I can shoot out a couple of your tires with my gun. That would actually be my preferred option, if we weren’t in the back parking lot of the sheriff’s department. So . . . I have to Tase you.” Jack aimed the Taser at Mac’s chest. “Were you drinking beer?”

  Mac shook his head. “Vodka. Why?”

  “Proof?”

  “One fifty-one.”

  “That’s unfortunate. I hope you didn’t spill any.”

  “Why?” Mac’s eyes rolled around like pinballs as his puzzlement grew.

  “The Taser barbs give off an electrical spark. Vodka with that much alcohol content is flammable. If you spilled some on your shirt . . . I could turn you into a s’more.”

  “You’re craz
y, Stratton.”

  “I like to think of it as ‘determined.’”

  A car sped into the parking lot and skidded to a stop, followed by the scent of burning rubber. Finn got out and hesitantly approached. “I got your text.”

  Jack smiled. “Thanks for coming. Would you mind giving Mac a ride?”

  “Sure. Where?” Finn stopped next to Mac.

  “Anyplace but here.” Mac tossed his keys to Finn. “The company sucks.” He turned and stormed over to Finn’s car.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Jack said as he holstered his Taser.

  The back door of the sheriff’s department burst open and Murphy came out. “What’s going on, Stratton?”

  Jack gave him a friendly wave. “I was just showing off my new Taser. No issues. Thanks for checking on me, buddy!” He smiled broadly.

  Murphy’s face twisted in confusion, but he waved and went back inside.

  Finn chuckled. “You never change.”

  Jack shook his head. “You’re wrong about that.” He handed Finn the card. “That’s the contact information for the leader of a survivors’ support group. The guy is a friend of Nyah’s, Boomer’s girlfriend. I hate to ask this of you, but Mac needs help, and he can’t be alone right now. I’d do it, but . . .”

  “No problem. It won’t be the first time I’ve had to be a sober companion. I’ve got this.”

  “Are you sure? What about your date?”

  “Annie? She’ll understand.” A smile spread across Finn’s face. “She’s fantastic.”

  “Really?”

  Finn cleared his throat and nodded. “But we’re not dating. We’re business associates.”

  “Alice said she was very nice. I appreciate this, Finn.”

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  As Finn turned and walked over to Mac’s rental to lock it up, Jack remembered a time when Finn, on a bet, jumped from a standing position onto a tank tread. The man had been a tremendous athlete. Now he had to concentrate when putting one foot in front of the other while the world continued to turn.

  Jack drew a long, jagged breath, trying to cope with the pain his friend was obviously in. When Jack met Mac, back when he came into the army, Mac had a different nickname. They called him Happy, because the guy never stopped smiling. He was grinning all the time, and it was infectious. Now Mac sat in Finn’s car staring daggers at Jack like he wanted to kill him. And Jack believed him.

  He remembered that Nyah had given him two cards for the survivors’ support group, and he felt in his right pocket. His fingers closed around the other card. He tucked it in his wallet. He knew he’d changed, too. He wasn’t the same man who went to war. The Jack who shipped out . . . wasn’t the Jack who came back. Neither was Finn or Mac.

  Did any of us really make it?

  20

  Bobbie parked his huge Hummer in front of La Bonne Patisserie, a cute bakery with candy-striped awnings. Alice rode in the passenger seat, and Boomer and Shawna sat in back.

  “Cake tasting?” Boomer’s eyes lit up. “Is that really a thing?”

  Alice smiled. “I didn’t believe it when I saw it on the schedule either. I thought I’d just be choosing vanilla or chocolate.”

  “Sweet!” Boomer said, and he and Bobbie exchanged high-fives. “And here I thought that following you around everywhere was gonna really suck.”

  Shawna smacked him in the back of the head.

  “Ow! What? What guy wants to spend all morning looking at flowers?”

  Shawna shot him a cross look.

  “I really appreciate everyone coming with me,” said Alice. “Especially since Jack couldn’t make it. But if you three need to be somewhere else, I’ll be fine.”

  “Nope!” Shawna popped the P. “We’re happy to help. Right?”

  “I am! I am!” Boomer winced, and Alice guessed Shawna was digging one of her long nails into his side. “Who doesn’t love cake?”

  Bobbie shut the car off. “Just remember it’s a cake tasting, not a cake buffet!”

  Everyone except Boomer laughed as they got out of the car. The sweet smell of fresh pastries greeted their noses.

  “Man, that Pierce guy must have some serious extra cash,” Boomer said. “I got my aunt a tiny little cake from this place once, and it ran me fifty bucks. I don’t even wanna know what they charge for a big cake. Hey, how big is yours gonna be?”

  Alice frowned. The truth was, she had no idea. And with the ever-growing guest list . . .

  “As big as it needs to be!” Erica said as she stepped out of the bakery.

  Alice was temporarily blinded by bright flashes as Philip appeared from down the sidewalk, snapping pictures. He must have been waiting outside for them, but she wouldn’t even have noticed him if not for the flash.

  “Paparazzi Phil is here,” Boomer muttered. “That guy creeps me out.”

  Shawna poked him and Boomer glared up at Bobbie. “Can you get your girl to stop smacking me?”

  “Sure. Just stop ticking her off,” Bobbie said with a wink. He held the door open for everyone.

  “Good answer,” Shawna said with a smile.

  Erica led them behind the counter, through a kitchen with a long row of ovens, and into a small room where a single long table was covered with a white tablecloth, five chairs set up on one side. “Will anyone else be joining us?” she asked.

  Alice shook her head.

  “What about your Aunt Haddie? She was very helpful the other day.”

  Alice pressed her lips together. Aunt Haddie was a very private person, and her struggle with Alzheimer’s wasn’t something Alice was comfortable discussing. “Once we make our choice, I’ll bring a sample by for her.”

  “I just want to make sure that she feels included,” Erica said. “I know she’s been like a second mother to you. Would you like to invite her to the final dress fitting?”

  Alice nodded; she appreciated Erica’s attention to detail, but the truth was, that would depend on Aunt Haddie. Her good days were getting less frequent, a fact that scared Alice so much, she usually tried not to think about it.

  A teenage boy came in carrying a tray with water glasses and a pitcher. He set the table, poured the waters, and left. Alice reached for a glass, eager to do something with her hands. Once everyone was seated, Erica set a piece of paper and a pen down next to each plate.

  “The final selection is up to Alice, of course, but it would also be helpful to hear from her close friends. Please score each sample from one to ten.”

  They all looked down at the sheets. Boomer and Bobbie grinned, but Alice’s stomach was already complaining.

  “There are twenty-four slots on this sheet!” Boomer said. “Are there really that many choices?”

  Erica nodded.

  Alice’s stomach grumbled. How could there possibly be two dozen different flavors of cake?

  Only an hour later, Alice didn’t ever want to see another piece of cake. At least she had been smart enough to take only one bite of each. Boomer and Bobbie had gotten into a contest, and judging by Boomer’s greenish hue and uncharacteristic silence, he was losing.

  A phone buzzed and Alice reached for hers, but it wasn’t in her pocket.

  “Sorry,” Shawna said. “It’s mine.”

  Alice felt a flash of panic as she patted herself down. She definitely didn’t have her phone. “Has anyone seen my phone?” Her nervousness was quickly rising. What if Jack had been trying to call her? What if he needed her? She felt the cake threatening to make a reappearance.

  “You were charging it in the Hummer,” Bobbie said, slumped back in his chair.

  Erica smiled in her cheerleader fashion. “Only two more pieces to go! I need everyone to hang in there for just a little bit longer.”

  Alice stood. “I’m sorry, Erica, I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “I’m so full, I may pop,” Bobbie said, rubbing his stomach.

  “Please, don’t. And Alice, please hustle.” Erica tapped her watch for em
phasis.

  “I’ll be right back. The others can keep eating.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” Boomer set his fork down.

  “Are you giving up?” Bobbie held up a hand in victory. “I win!”

  “Not yet.” Boomer picked his fork back up, wincing as he clutched his stomach. “Bring on the pain.”

  “Men.” Alice chuckled as she hurried down the hallway. She made a quick pit stop in the ladies’ room and then headed out the front door to get her phone and check if Jack had called. She opened the Hummer’s passenger door and grinned. A long box sat on the front seat and a small white envelope lay on top. She unplugged her phone from the charger and picked up the envelope. It read, For the Bride.

  She checked her voice mails. Jack had called three times and texted her four times.

  Just checking on you.

  Is everything okay?

  You’re supposed to keep your phone on.

  Call me now or I’m coming over there!

  The last text had come in only a minute ago. She speed-dialed Jack as she opened the envelope and pulled out the little card. On the front was a picture of a diamond wedding ring, and inside, typed text read: DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND. A red line was drawn through the word DIAMONDS.

  Jack’s phone rang only once before he picked up. “Alice? Where are you?”

  “Sorry!” Alice set the card on the seat. “I forgot my phone in Bobbie’s car.”

  “That totally goes against the safety rules. I agreed to this, but you promised me that you’d be careful.”

  “I am being careful. And thank you for my present.” Alice grabbed the long box.

  “What present? Stop!”

  Jack’s panicked warning startled her so badly that she dropped the lower half of the box, but her left hand held on to the lid. The box landed open on the seat.

  “Alice! Alice!” Jack yelled. “Don’t open anything! I didn’t give you a present!”

  Alice’s breath was coming in short little puffs. She wanted to say something. To tell Jack she was okay. But no words were coming out.

  Inside the long box was a single rose. It had been dead for a long time, but like potpourri, a faint tinge of color highlighted the bud and stem. There was another card inside the box, white, the size of a business card. Written on it in red letters were the words — FOREVER MINE.