Jokers Club

by Gregory Bastianelli

  “Well, now you can join Thorn in the singles market,” Oliver said, looking at me over his cards. “Is that right, Thorn?”

  “Martin’s still single,” I said, gesturing.

  “Peak doesn’t count,” Oliver responded, “he’s practically married to his mother.”

  Lonny burst out laughing. Martin just looked down at his cards, not bothering to rebut.

  “Don’t plan too long a time mourning,” Oliver said to Dale. “The pickings out there could be pretty slim.”

  “Not even on my radar yet.”

  “Well, if you wait too long, all that’ll be left are divorcees and widows.” Oliver smiled, amused with himself. “And they both come with lots of baggage.”

  “I think I’d rather be with a divorcee than a widow,” Dale responded.

  “How do you figure?” Lonny asked.

  “Yeah,” Oliver said. “At least with a widow, you don’t have to worry about an ex being in the picture. And they are always going to be around for her kids. Forever. You’ve got birthdays, graduations, weddings, grandkids … It’ll go on and on.”

  “And that would really suck,” Lonny added, “especially if the ex is a real asshole.”

  “That’s very true,” I chimed in. “But with a widow, you have to worry about replacing someone that she probably still loves. That would be tough to deal with.”

  “Yeah,” Dale agreed. “And the only reason she is with you is because she can’t be with him.”

  “And you’d know that if she could have things her way, she’d rather be with him.” Lonny said. “So you’ll always be in his shadow.”

  At the word shadow everyone stopped talking. Lonny had been stupid enough to use the phrase. The word brought back memories of us all taking turns being the shadow (except for Oliver). Jason Nightingale was the last one to be the shadow, and nothing was ever the same after that.

  I got up from the table and went to the bar to fix a new drink.

  Oliver was the one to finally change the subject.

  “Well, my life is about to experience a big change as well,” Oliver said, beaming at us. “Just before coming up here, I found out I’m going to be a father.”

  “Wow!” Lonny exclaimed. “That’s awesome.”

  Oliver grinned as others around the table congratulated him, and we raised our glasses in a toast.

  “I meant to bring some cigars,” he said.

  Everyone became quiet.

  I couldn’t believe he’d said that, and didn’t even seem to realize it as he showed little reaction. Had he forgotten? Was it that long ago?

  “Welcome to the club,” Lonny said, breaking the silence. “You’re going to love kids. Nothing like it.”

  “Well,” Dale said, “that will certainly be life-changing.”

  “Mostly for Janet,” he smirked. “I don’t expect much to change for me.”

  “You’ll just have to get used to the adjustments Janet’s body goes through,” Lonny said chuckling. “The vomiting, the bad breath, the farting.”

  Everyone laughed, even Oliver.

  “And the bigger she gets,” Lonny said, still laughing, “the less sex you’ll be having.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that. There’s plenty of places I can find that.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Dale looked stunned.

  Oliver glared at him seriously. “Wouldn’t stop, if you know what I mean.”

  Dale raised an eyebrow. “Does your wife know?”

  “Maybe. Doesn’t matter if she does. She has it too good to ever leave me.”

  I rejoined the table. “Why would you do that?”

  “I like the challenge. It’s a sport. I never deny myself something. If I want it, then I’m going to get it.”

  “I’ve sure been tempted plenty of times,” Dale looked around. “But I could never go through with it.”

  “That’s because you’re weak.”

  “I don’t need to debate my masculinity with you. I’m not Lonny.” He got up and went to the bar.

  Lonny was jolted alert. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” He poured a shot straight up and downed it.”

  I closed my eyes. My head was fuzzy.

  Lonny stood up. “You have something to say?” His words were slow, but his tone harsh.

  “You’ve been hovering around your mentor all night, just like you did as a kid, lapping around his ankles, eating up every word he utters about his glorious achievements.”

  “That’s not true.” He hid himself behind a drink.

  I looked at Martin who was quiet, and then to Oliver who was beaming.

  “Something eating at you, Carpenter?” Oliver leaned back as he spoke. “Other than the fact that I made something of myself.”

  Dale didn’t answer.

  “Is that why you planned this reunion?” I asked. “To gloat in front of us about your wonderful life?”

  He stood up, seeming taller than before, and strode to the bar casting glances at all of us.

  “In the club, you all looked up to me as a leader. I came here to see how you all turned out. But what I see when I look around disappoints me.”

  “I guess the games are over,” Martin tossed his cards on the table, as he stood up and moved into the den.

  “No,” Dale said. “I think the games are just beginning.”

  Oliver laughed.

  I got up and went into the den also. Everyone soon followed.

  “Everything is a game to you,” Dale continued. “You play your hand, always have something up your sleeve and you do whatever you have to win.”

  “I strive to excel. It’s what got me where I am today. You could all learn a lesson from it.”

  “Maybe we’re happy where we are,” Martin said.

  “At least I give the others credit for getting away from this dump of a town. But you Peak, you’re stuck here, you’re going to die here. And what’s worse, you’re content with that. You live your life, raise your chickens and you’re happy. You still live with your mother for Christ’s sakes.”

  “Ducks,” Martin mumbled under his breath, barely audible. “They’re ducks, not chickens.” He looked at us. “And my mother is ill. She needs someone to take care of her.”

  Oliver turned to Lonny. “Make yourself useful and bring the bar in here.”

  “There you go,” Dale said as Lonny turned.

  “I’m doing it because I want to,” he responded, “not because I have to.”

  Oliver chuckled.

  “This is a game to you,” I said. “One you really enjoy playing.”

  “You’re the one that really surprises me, Thorn. I thought that if anyone was going to make something of themselves it was you. Were all those years of talking about what a great writer you were going to be just talk?”

  That hurt. “As a matter of fact, I’m working on a book now.”

  Lonny wheeled the bar into the den.

  “It’s about us.”

  “Us?” Oliver questioned.

  “The Jokers Club.”

  “Fiction or non-fiction?” Oliver looked upset.

  “A little of both.” I smiled.

  “Is Jason going to be in it?” Lonny’s glass shook as he loaded his ice cubes.

  “He would have to be a big part of the story.”

  Oliver’s fingers clenched on his glass. “Nightingale was never a real member of the Jokers Club.”

  “Are you really writing about us?” Dale asked.

  I nodded. Even though I had only started it today, I wanted them to think I was actively working on it. “It’s one of the reasons I came here. To get the feel of what things were like.”

  “And how do things feel?” Oliver asked.

  “Very bitter.”

  “Better be careful what you write about me. I might have to sue your ass off.” He chuckled and gulped his drink.

  “Oh, you’re a very special character.”

  “I won’t hold my breath
waiting for an advance copy. Because when it comes right down to it, I don’t think you could get published on a bathroom stall. You’re no better off than the rest of the losers here.”

  “Don’t be so hard on him,” Lonny said.

  “You,” Oliver replied to Lonny, “you turned out to be a really pathetic case.”

  Lonny’s face blushed. He slammed his glass down on the bar.

  “How can you treat me like this? All those years, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “I always despised you for that. You were like a puppet. I pulled your strings for you. You never had a spine of your own.” He turned to us. “You know what he had the nerve to ask me for tonight.”

  “Don’t!” Lonny demanded.

  “He came crawling to me –”

  “I said don’t!”

  “— to beg me for money.”

  Lonny rushed Oliver, reaching out to grab him. Oliver was quicker, spinning him around and pinning him up against the wall.

  I stood up but didn’t feel compelled to interfere.

  “All I asked you for was some help.” Lonny’s words came out part angry, part sobbing.

  Oliver gripped tightly to his collar and moved his face close to Lonny’s, breathing on him through gritted teeth.

  “The only reason you came here is you figured you could mooch something off me. You’re nothing but a phony.” He grabbed the hair on the top of Lonny’s head and pulled up. “You’re even afraid to admit you’ve lost your hair.” The hairpiece peeled back, revealing bare scalp.

  Dale stepped between them and backed Oliver off.

  “Easy, Carpenter,” Oliver said, brushing his hands away.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” Lonny said. “The pressures I’m under. I’ve got kids, responsibility. The bills come in. I got to make money. I can’t sell an insurance policy every day.”

  “I thought you sold cars,” I said.

  “That’s right.” He waved his arms. “I sell cars. It ain’t easy. I come home from work, supper’s done, the kids are in bed by seven. There I am stuck in the house, nothing to do but stare at my wife and talk to the walls. I’m so bored, I want to scream. But the pressures are there. I feel like I can’t even breathe. It hurts my head so much sometimes. I thought, maybe if I got a little help from you, my friend.”

  “I earned what I got.”

  “Enough!” Martin screamed out and we all turned to face him where he stood on the other side of the room. I don’t think I, nor anyone else for that matter, had ever heard him raise his voice like this. I was skeptical it was him who had even spoken.

  “You’re all making me sick. Why did you come here? You all moved away and I was the only one who stayed behind. But that was fine by me. But then you had to come back. I knew this was a mistake. I wish none of you had bothered.” He turned and left the room. There was a brief gush of air as the front door opened, then closed.

  I hesitated for a moment and then went after him.

  I caught up in the parking lot as he was about to get into his car.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  He sighed, looking all around him at the surrounding night, looking everywhere but into my eyes. “I just think it would be better if you all went back to where you came from.”

  I am back, I thought.

  “It was just a chance for us to get together, reminisce about the old days. We had some good times.”

  “We also had some bad times.”

  “Yeah, but we shouldn’t dwell on those.”

  “But they’ve never really gone away.”

  I bunched my hands in my pants pockets to warm them from the slight chill in the fall air. “I just wish I knew why Woody didn’t show up tonight.”

  “He was the only smart one.”

  I shrugged. “Are you going to get together with us again this weekend?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure what the point is.”

  We were both silent for an awkward moment, neither, I guess, knowing what to say. I broke the silence.

  “I just wish things could be the way they used to be. I miss that. I miss the town, us as friends. I miss Meg.”

  He looked at me like I was crazed and then shook his head. “Why don’t you grow up?” he yelled. I was taken aback. Who was this guy? “Why don’t you stop living in the past and get on with your life?” He hopped in his car, started it up and drove away, tires spitting gravel.

  “I can’t help it,” I said to nobody. “The past is all I have left now.”

  Back in the inn, things had quieted down. Dale sat on the couch; Oliver was standing by the fireplace; Lonny stood by the bar making himself a fresh drink. I joined Dale on the couch.

  “How about making me another one,” I said to Lonny.

  “Make it yourself,” he said sourly.

  Dale chuckled.

  The front door opened and closed, and there were footsteps in the hall. Thinking it was Martin coming back, I turned to look and saw a young, attractive woman with long, wavy brown hair. It was Meg, I thought, come to find me and take me away from this mess. She smiled a pleasant smile, and then disappeared up the steps.

  No, not Meg. This was the woman guest Wolfe had mentioned, the one I had seen in the window. That was why she looked familiar then. This wasn’t the first time I had seen a brunette and thought it was Meg. It had happened many times in the city. Everywhere I looked, there she was.

  “Well,” Oliver said. “I wasn’t aware we were sharing our accommodations with something that lovely.”

  “Why don’t you make a play for her,” Dale scoffed. “You can put another notch on your belt buckle.”

  “Quite possible, Carpenter, but actually I’ve made other arrangements tonight.”

  “We’re not ending the night already?” Lonny asked.

  “This night ended before it started,” Dale replied.

  The tail end of Dale’s sentence faded in volume with each word so I had to look at him to make sure his mouth was still moving. His face blurred and I closed my eyes hoping to clear my head. Pain slowly, but steadily built in the lower back left corner of my head. Not again, I thought.

  Luckily my drink was empty because the glass slipped from my fingers and plopped softly onto the braided rug in front of the couch, spilling only a harmless couple of ice cubes.

  I felt Dale’s hand on my shoulder and heard him ask if I was all right.

  “Yeah,” I said, opening my eyes to a clearer vision of my surroundings. “Sure.” The headache was still intense, concentrated so heavily on the left side of my skull that I thought my skull would tip over. I wanted to stand, but was afraid I’d go sprawling onto the rug beside my glass and the two quickly melting ice cubes.

  “Just a little auto lag, I think,” I said.

  “You’re getting old, Thorn,” Oliver grinned. “You can’t handle the booze like you used to.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Dale asked.

  Their voices, coupled with the throbbing of the headache, felt like someone was slugging the side of my head with a mallet.

  “I think I’ll just call it a night and go upstairs and lay down.” I wanted to get away from everybody, not let them see me like this.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Dale said.

  “I was hoping you were going to cap the night with a scary story,” Oliver said. “Just like you used to in the clubhouse.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was mocking me or not. It did bring to mind a story I had written about this house and the Peas sisters and all their cats that had devoured the last sister and how, even though the police thought they destroyed all the cats, some still roamed these halls and rooms looking for fresh flesh to feast on.

  “No,” I shook my head. “There’ll be time for stories later.”

  I made my way hesitantly up the stairs, aware of the watchful eyes upon me. When I got out of their sight at the top of the first landing, I paused, bending over and gripp
ing my head in my hands. After a few deep breaths, I straightened, looking up at the moose head on the wall.

  “What are you staring at?”

  I moved down the hall, aware of the moose’s eyes following me.

  Once in my room, I lay down on my bed. I wasn’t sleepy, so I just stared up at the pattern of the tin ceiling and did not think of anything, keeping my mind clear until the pain flushed itself out of my throbbing temple as quickly as it came.

  I thought about returning downstairs to the others, but the way the night had gone didn’t encourage me. Even though I had been remembering how much fun we had in the Jokers Club, tonight reminded me of some of the friction that arose from time to time. It was almost as if I had chosen not to remember it, like selective reminiscence.

  Oliver’s mention of Jason not really being part of the club reminded me of the incident with the house of cards. That was the catalyst of all the events that followed.

  I sat up in bed and looked at the typewriter, then to the clock on the nightstand. It wasn’t working. I wasn’t sure if it was past quiet time, but it wasn’t my fault the clock didn’t work. I couldn’t be blamed.

  I got off the bed and went to the desk, rolling in a fresh piece of paper and closing my eyes to picture a tall structure of playing cards. My fingers started pecking at the keys before I reopened my eyes.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I stopped. I leaned back in the chair and stared at the small pile of paper for about five minutes, trying to remember what I had just written. When the knock came at the door, I was sure it was Mr. Wolfe come to scold me for typing past the “lights out” hour.

  “Come in,” I said, and when the door slowly opened, it was Dale’s head that peeked in.

  “I heard the typing stop, so I thought it was safe to intrude.”

  “Sure.”

  “I guess you’re feeling better.”

  “It was just a headache, they come and go. I shouldn’t have left the party so abruptly.”

  “Well, it wasn’t much of a party anymore. Lonny’s still downstairs, but Oliver’s gone off somewhere.”

  “Some reunion.” I laughed.

  “Well, the only reason I came was to see you.” He pulled a half-empty bottle of whiskey out from under his coat. “Want to join me out on the porch for a bit?”

  * * *