Texas Hold'em

by Wild Cards Trust

  Changing faces had dropped him several more paces behind his quarry, so he lengthened his stride a bit to catch up. When he was close enough to hear, one of them laughed in a nasty, high school jerk way.

  “That wheeled guy,” Jax said, “we could just superglue his wheel to that—whatever the fuck you call his lower body. He’d never roll anywhere again.”

  “Or we could glue training wheels to him. People would laugh wherever he went.”

  “What about that bug-girl?” The kid speaking was the smallest of the three. “My uncle’s an exterminator. I could get some industrial-strength insect killer and we could take her out completely.”

  Jerry had heard this kind of patter before. People in groups often talked tougher than they actually were. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t do anything harmful. The same dynamic that pushed them to sound badass to each other could also encourage them to push the envelope on bad behavior.

  A phone vibrated in his pocket. It was the one he’d lifted from the Purity Baptist Church goon. He swiped it open and saw a text message.

  Where the hell are you? The texter was identified only with a phone number.

  Jerry thought about it for a moment, then tapped in, Church.

  About thirty seconds passed before he received a reply. Get yourself organized and get over to the Alamo for the meet-up.

  The kids had gotten well ahead of him and Jerry quickened his pace to get back within earshot. He had two choices—follow Jax and company to see if they were up to no good, or head to the Alamo and potentially get busted pretending to be someone he knew very little about. If he chose option two it was high-risk with potential high-reward, but there really wasn’t time to go back to the hotel and put on the suit he’d lifted from Aaron. At least he assumed that was his name since the phone was named “Aaron’s cell phone.”

  Jerry decided to ditch the kids and head to the Alamo. What was the worst that could happen?

  The Alamo was nearby, but Jerry pulled out his phone and tapped in the location of the famous landmark just to be sure he didn’t take a wrong turn. Time was clearly important. He put on his Aaron face and legged it at a good pace to the Alamo.

  He was more than a little disappointed when he saw the main structure; it was far smaller than he’d imagined. The grounds surrounding the actual church building were fairly sizable, and that posed a problem as to where Jerry should situate himself. He wanted a good vantage point to keep an eye on things. There was likely a specific place he was supposed to be for the meeting, so he’d be looking for a person or persons who were trying to find Aaron.

  There was a shaded gate to the left of the church. Jerry put his back to the wall and settled in for what he hoped was a short wait.

  The plaza was crowded, lots of tourists out enjoying the beautiful weather. There were families of all sizes, looking and pointing, and several groups of kids and young adults just hanging out. On a day like this, why not visit the site of one of the most famous massacres in American history?

  Jerry didn’t see anyone who looked like they were trying to find Aaron, but he stayed where he was. He didn’t want to stick his neck out by walking into the bright sunshine of the plaza. Better to watch and wait. He played out scenes from the John Wayne version of The Alamo and Pee-wee’s Big Adventure in his head to pass the time. “There are thousands and thousands of uses for corn. All of which I’m going to tell you about right now.”

  A girl, maybe six years old, broke away from her parents and ran over to Jerry. “Do you know where Davy Crockett is, mister?” she asked, hopefully.

  Jerry shook his head. “I plumb reckon Mr. Crockett has left the building, little one.”

  The girl’s parents hurried over and led her away. “We’re sorry,” said the mom.

  “No need.” Jerry looked back out over the plaza. Four people walking together caught his attention: three men and one woman, and they didn’t move like tourists. Jerry figured they were all in their late twenties, definitely out of college, and dressed well enough to have a fair amount of disposable income. The man in the lead, half a head shorter than any of the others, spoke to his companions and they wandered over to a shaded area under the trees. The leader walked forward slowly, glancing from side to side. Jerry backed farther into the shadows by the gate and studied the man’s face and gait. The more time Jerry had to watch him, the better his chances of impersonating him if it came to that. Jerry decided to roll the dice and go meet him, but before he took a step forward there was a commotion at the far end of the plaza.

  A sizable knot of people were entering the area. Even though they were still a fair distance away, Jerry could tell it was a group of jokers. He heard raised voices, some yelling at the joker group, others asking that the jokers be left alone. Jerry didn’t see the short young man or his companions anymore, and walked toward the disturbance. When he got within twenty feet or so, Jerry saw that several of the jokers were wearing I The Mob T-shirts. Maybe they were local jokers, or had traveled to San Antonio to support the band. At this point it didn’t matter. The anti-joker voices were getting louder and the jokers were closing ranks and huddling together. Most of them were young and looked scared. A bottle whizzed past Jerry’s ear and into the jokers. He looked for police, but didn’t see any nearby.

  This wasn’t what Jerry had signed up for, but he couldn’t sit on his thumbs and let a riot happen. Particularly since the end result would likely be jokers in the hospital or the morgue. He needed to draw attention away from the group of jokers and do it in a hurry. Impersonating an ace was a bad idea; appearing to be an ace without having ace powers was a losing hand. He needed a startling look that would scare the hatemongers just enough to let the jokers get away.

  Also, he didn’t want to mess up his clothes. Running naked, or nearly so, through an unfamiliar city would end badly for him.

  He decided to go with a flying monster, something humanoid. The harpies from Jason and the Argonauts had always been a favorite of his. Buzzing the crowd would be sure to draw plenty of attention. Somebody, maybe several somebodies, would have a gun. He’d risk that, though.

  His first order of business was to ditch his clothes. He transformed his hands into claws and pulled himself up the side of the famous mission building to the rooftop. Jerry removed his garments and tossed them in a pile, then completed the transformation. He rarely did anything that allowed him to fly, and the large bat wings felt somewhat cumbersome. He flapped them and was quickly airborne, but he felt smallish for the job at hand.

  Jerry soared over to a nearby power line and perched on the pole. People were pointing and taking video. He could add mass to his body by channeling electricity, but it required concentration or he’d take the current the same as anyone else. He used a taloned finger to slice into the wire. The surge tingled and he began to grow. At about three times his normal mass, he stopped and took to the air again. He wobbled a bit as he banked sharply toward the jokers under siege in the courtyard.

  To make sure they saw him coming, Jerry let out an extended shriek while circling the crowd. Most of the people around the jokers scattered, but a few diehards remained. Jerry saw one of them reach toward his waist.

  He dropped out of the sky like a stone, beating his wings to slow his descent only when he was a few feet over the man. Jerry grabbed him under either armpit with his scaly feet and lifted the screaming man into the air. He veered over to a tree and deposited him, not too gently, in its branches.

  He checked the plaza. Everyone, including the joker group, had run for cover. Jerry shot into the sky a couple of hundred feet and released the energy he’d absorbed with a sizzling pop, returning to his normal size. He flew back down to the Alamo and scooped up his clothing, then landed on the roof of a nearby building. After returning to his previous form, except for his hands, Jerry dressed as quickly as he could manage and lowered himself down an exterior wall. Once his feet touched the ground he returned his hands to normal.

  Flying was grea
t fun; he should do it more often. He walked around to the front of the building, which turned out to be the Alamo Gift Shop.

  Word of the incident must have reached the shop. People were exiting and buzzing about the attack of a “joker monster.” Jerry walked inside to a display of coonskin caps and picked one up. He passed it in front of his face and changed again, back to someone younger. He walked over to the understandably distracted clerk at the register. Due to the commotion he’d caused there was no one in line to check out.

  “I’ll take this, please.” He paid in cash and stepped out into the beautiful Texas late afternoon. The sunset promised to be spectacular.

  As he strolled through the Alamo, glancing at the exhibits, Jerry indulged himself by putting on Fess Parker’s face. When he returned to the plaza, it was swarming with police. Several officers were moving toward the joker group, which had returned and was milling about at the edge of the plaza. The posture of the officers indicated that they were there to protect them. Curious onlookers clustered in small groups, discussing what exactly had happened.

  “It was a goddamned flying devil, I saw it with my own eyes,” said a heavyset older man to anyone who was listening. Not many were.

  Whether or not they got their tour, the jokers were safe. He’d done that right, at least. Jerry walked away whistling, then started singing, “Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee…”

  Jerry’s shower was refreshing, but hadn’t yielded the hoped-for inspiration. He was trying to talk himself out of the idea that the trip to the Alamo had been a fiasco. Jokers had been bailed out of a bad situation … and how could any scenario where he turned into a harpy be a fiasco?

  His cell phone whistled an incoming text message. It was from Michelle Pond. Need to see you asap.

  I’m in my room. Give me five minutes, he texted back.

  Jerry hurriedly donned his clothes and made sure his Creighton face was on right. This could be good or bad. If she wanted a substantial update on the investigation, he didn’t have much to offer. On the other hand, maybe she had come across some useful information and wanted to pass it on. That could be a major plus.

  He heard a knock on the door. Jerry opened up and let Michelle in. She was carrying a box. “What’s that?”

  “A present, sort of.” She gave him a knowing look. “Did you hear about the incident at the Alamo earlier?”

  Jerry parked himself on the edge of the bed facing her and tried not to react. “Yes, something. I didn’t pay too much attention. It didn’t sound good, though.”

  “No, it wasn’t. A group of jokers were threatened by some of the locals. The odd part was the large flying creature that showed up and took the heat off the jokers.”

  “That was a lucky break.” Jerry didn’t know what she was playing at, but it made him uncomfortable.

  “Yes, but I don’t believe it was mere luck.” She set the box on his dresser and stood, then opened the top drawer. “I do believe in an ace power that allows a person to impersonate someone else.” Michelle took out Jerry’s makeup supplies and set them on top of the desk. “I’m not sure these go with your coloring.”

  Jerry’s skin went cold. How the hell had she busted him? “I’m not sure how that got in there,” he lied, unconvincingly.

  She went to the closet and pulled out the dress. “This is actually pretty cute.”

  Now he was starting to get pissed. He took a deep breath and pushed those feelings way deep down. Being angry with someone as powerful as the Amazing Bubbles was largely pointless. “What do you want?”

  She put the dress back. “Sorry, I’m being a bit of a bitch. It’s been a long day. The Committee has files on—hell, I have no idea what all the Committee has files on, but definitely aces. The information on Ackroyd and Creighton, which is quite extensive, strongly suggested one of your agents was an impersonator. After your pronoun slipup earlier, and the scene at the Alamo, I put two and two together.”

  “And some people still insist women can’t do math.” Jerry felt trapped. He hated this assignment.

  Michelle sat down. “Look, I don’t know if you’re Mr. Creighton or someone else, and I don’t care. I’m not interested in making your secret known to anyone else. But you’re working for me, and I need you to do something specific for me tonight.”

  Jerry exhaled. “I’m doing the best I can. I’ve only been here a few hours.”

  “You’re misunderstanding.” She waved her hand. “I have to be gone tonight. Maybe until morning, although I’m hoping it won’t take that long. I want you to take care of my daughter, Adesina. Make sure she stays inside and out of trouble.”

  Jerry mulled it over. “I can look like you, and mimic your speech patterns pretty well, but don’t you think she’ll see through this? I mean, you’re her mother.”

  “Sit on the couch and watch TV or read a book. If she comes out of the bedroom tell her to go back in and go to sleep. Don’t get into an argument with her. She’s a teenager and she’ll wear you down.” She opened the box she’d brought. It contained a top and pants. They were very nice. “Put these on and I’ll do a little makeup on you.”

  Jerry picked up the box and trudged into the bathroom. He put the outfit on and checked himself front and back to make sure it was fitting properly.

  Michelle smiled when he came out. “I’m not sure why I’m enjoying this so much,” she said. “I guess I’ve had precious little else to enjoy the past few days.”

  “Boo-hoo,” Jerry said, picking up a chair and sitting dutifully in front of her.

  “Luckily for you, I don’t wear much makeup, so this won’t take long.”

  “So what time do I show up at your room to report for duty?”

  Michelle looked at her watch. “I’ll come back here at a quarter to eight and you can start your shift then.”

  “Right. Do you drink?”

  “Not tonight I don’t.”

  He sighed. “Well, that’s just perfect.”

  After Michelle left, Jerry realized how attractive she was. Beautiful, intelligent, and dangerous were the trifecta for him. There was no way he was going there, though. Not with her, or anyone else. Not ever again.

  Veronica had been one of his first great loves. In addition to being beautiful, intelligent, and dangerous she was a geisha for Fortunato back in the day, and Jerry paid for her services. Hardly the basis for a healthy or lasting relationship. Things cratered before too long, but over the long haul they’d formed something of a friendship. He was one of the first people she’d told about the cancer. Jerry had done as much as she would allow him to do. He brought in specialists from Europe, paid for in-home care when her wife, Carla, was at work, and visited often but not too often. Expense wasn’t an issue. He’d had plenty of money even before his years in the past, and a hell of a lot more when he got back.

  None of it had helped; Veronica was gone a few months later. Her death had damaged something in Jerry, maybe broken it. He’d expected to grieve, but this was more than that. Whatever it was he never wanted to feel it again.

  Irina, his costar and lover at Fortune Films, was gone as well. They’d made several pictures, plenty of money, and what he thought was beautiful music together. Still, when he’d opted to come back to the present to resume his life, she’d stayed behind to continue her film career. He couldn’t blame her. Money and fame, after all. But Irina had died less than a decade later, of a severe infection. Life was more precarious in those days, before antibiotics. He missed her sometimes, but not like he missed Veronica.

  Women still mattered to him up to a point. Jerry had created a Tinder account and managed the occasional brief fling. It helped. Not much, but anything was better than nothing.

  He pushed the unwanted thoughts away. He needed to be sharp if he was going to manage a teenage girl. It was time for adventures in babysitting.

  Adesina was in her bedroom, doing whatever semi-grounded teenage girls do. Not that Jerry had any idea what exactly that was.

 
; He took advantage of the alone time by going through Aaron’s cell phone. He checked the contacts section, but there was nothing there of any apparent interest. The recent e-mails hadn’t revealed much either: lots of discussions about biblical verses and the end of days. Jerry had expected a fair amount of joker hate, but there was almost none to be found.

  Stymied, Jerry paged through the photographs. There were pictures of San Antonio, groups of people who looked like family or church friends, nothing out of the ordinary. He flipped to the next picture and stopped cold. It was the same group of four young people he’d seen at the Alamo earlier. The photo’s caption read Keyz & Company. It hadn’t occurred to Jerry that Keyz was a person when Aaron mentioned it earlier. He quickly paged through the rest of the pictures, but found nothing.

  He heard a noise behind him and tucked the phone away.

  “Mom, can I go visit Ghost for a bit?” Adesina asked.

  Jerry tried to get into the parental mind-set. “No.”

  “It will only be for a few minutes. We have stuff to talk about for tomorrow.” Her voice was both plaintive and practiced.

  “You can talk about it tomorrow.” He heard a deep sigh and Adesina’s footsteps retreated into the bedroom.

  “Round one to the old man,” Jerry said softly. He turned on the TV and tuned it to TCM.

  Less than an hour later Adesina walked up behind the couch, but said nothing.

  “What’s up?” Jerry asked.

  “What are you watching?”

  “An old movie.”

  “Why would anyone watch an old movie?”

  He was about forty minutes into Mighty Joe Young. Jerry could give her an hour-long lecture about stop-motion animation, but doubted that was something Michelle would do. “We had old movie night once a week when I was on American Hero,” he lied. “Sit down for a minute and watch this with me.”

  Adesina plopped onto the couch with a practiced sigh.

  Max O’Hara was introducing Jill and Joe Young at the Golden Safari.