Jack in a Box

by Pringle McCloy

  “And Sammy,” I added. “He’s got at least one foot in the grave. Maybe two. And then there’s Tony.” We clinked again.

  Jack sighed. “Aren’t you even curious? Either of you?”

  Jillian curled into a ball. “I know I can’t wait to split my inheritance. A hundred ways.”

  “That works for me.” We clinked. “My little income is going to look good to you soon, Jillian.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “I might have to take both of you over my knee.”

  “You and whose army?” said Jillian. Clink. The glasses were splintering like wood chips and she was getting tipsy. But she was on the upward swing. “Let me guess the rest of the story. You had sex with a girl in this very driveway. In your Corvette. That couldn’t have been easy given your size.”

  I was into the game. “He was an athlete. Oops, sorry. He didn’t make the team. He was a cheerleader. But he was very nimble. He could easily have done it in a Corvette.”

  Jack shook his head. “Who raised you two?”

  “Duh!” We clinked.

  He was losing patience. “I’d like to finish the story. With no adlibbing. If you’d both be so kind.”

  I turned to Jillian. “Should we let him?”

  “Ah. Why not. There’s nothing else to do at four a.m. Shoot, cowboy.”

  Jack was pissed. “You’re a silly pair. This woman was very beautiful. She had long dark hair and deep blue eyes. And she was twenty-one.”

  “A child molester,” said Jillian.

  Jack ignored her. “She was engaged to a really nice guy. They’d had a fight at the first party we were at and he went home without her. She and her girlfriends followed me here to Dad’s. I guess we got drunk and she ended up in my bed. I don’t remember much about it.”

  “That’s what they all say when they impregnate,” Jillian teased. “I don’t remember.”

  She held out her empty glass for clinking but Jack snatched it away. He walked to the bar, refilled it, and placed it back in her hand.

  “Don’t you just love fairytales, Hampton? I know I do.”

  I downed the last drop and held out my glass. “I’m waiting for the punch line. It ought to be good.”

  Jack brought the decanter to refill my glass. “Drink up, Hamster. You’re going to need this.”

  When we’d all settled back in he rambled on, “I didn’t know about the child for several years. She married her fiancé, someone told me, and was happily settled down. Then one day I got a telephone call. She asked me to meet her for lunch. We went to the old Park Royal Hotel.”

  “Oh, sure,” Jillian said drunkenly. “Back in the sack.”

  “The restaurant!” he snapped. “It was there she told me that I was the biological father of her child. Her husband didn’t know and never would. And she wanted nothing from me, she said, unless something happened to them both. In that case she hoped I’d step in.”

  “And you did,” I said dryly. “When my parents were killed in a car crash you stepped in. Is that what you’d like me to believe?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Bullshit! It’s just another one of your stories. You’re a master of them. A twenty-first century Edgar Allan Poe. You want to keep Jillian and I apart and you’d go to any length to do it. Even to the extent of tarnishing my memory of my mother. You’re disgusting.”

  No wisecracking from Jillian. She was too smart for that.

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you before, son. Exactly why. I didn’t want to taint your memories of those two lovely people in any way. It was easy not to tell you and I likely never would have but I can’t stand idly by and let you marry your sister. I don’t think she needs to marry both her brothers. We’re not rabbits.”

  I just sat there shaking my head.

  Jillian, the coward, copped out in silence.

  Jack dug in. “Have you never even considered the possibility, Hamster? Look how much we are alike. Although you look like your mother, you’re a lefty, like me. And you’re tall like me. Your other dad was short.”

  I leapt out of my chair. “I’m only six feet. You’re six four.”

  “You’re six one and a half. At least.”

  “I’m six feet. The last time you and Tony measured me I was six feet tall.”

  “We lied. You were so sure you’d grown we wanted to bug you. You’re six one and a half, possibly six two. You grew a little after high school, I think.”

  I stomped to the bar.

  “You can ask Tony. He’ll tell you the truth about your origin.”

  Jillian stood up, stretched like a warm cat, then shuffled to me in her big furry slippers. She put her arm around my waist. “Hey, Bro. Give it up. Just think about Christmas. Three stockings on the mantle now. Yours, mine, and Richard’s.”

  “Sounds like a rock group to me.” Tony had been standing in the doorway listening. “I’ll be the drummer.”

  “You’ll be good at it,” I said sarcastically. “You’ve been marching to Jack’s drum for years.”

  Tony didn’t take offense. “You’re just sore, Hamster. But you have no right to be. Jackie has been a good father to you. Trouble is, he spoiled you. When you don’t get your own way, you pout. I thought you’d outgrow it but you didn’t. Right now you’re standing there pouting like a spoiled brat. And why? Because you finally found out that the guy you love more than anyone in the world is your real dad. Biological. I bet that really sucks.”

  Well, that shut me up.

  It shut Jack up too.

  But not Jillian. She’d had a snoot full. “The Fucked-Up Trio. That’s what we’ll call our band. Hampton, Jones and Chang. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

  Tony laughed. “The Comeback Kid. That’s what you are, Jilly. You’ve got more guts than Dick Tracey.”

  “Cliché!” She waved her finger in the air and headed for the bar. “Hampton is the dick.”

  “Ata girl,” Tony said. “Pour me one, too. A big one. When Charlie takes over Jack’s company he’ll be putting me in a home.”

  ”He’ll have to fight me first,” she said. “And Richard. It’ll be a fierce three-way fight for the top job. And being a hot chick I have an advantage with the board.” She turned around and wiggled her ass. “My aunt.”

  “My aunt, too,” I said, coming out of the pout after catching evil eye exchanging between Jack and Tony. They were killing themselves laughing inside. “There’ll be a war.”

  “Good for you, Charlie,” Tony said. “Get in there and fight for what’s rightfully yours.” His eyes were twinkling like a starry night. “Of course, you’ll both have to fight your new brother. And from what I hear he fights dirty.”

  “So does Hamster,” said Jack proudly.

  Jillian went all-indignant. “What about me? Remember how you taught me to kick the boys in the balls, Jack? Then stick my finger in their eye and twist? I can execute. The top job is mine!”

  I was in. “We should phone Richard and get him out of bed. He’ll want a part in our new sappy opera. Or is it a soap opera? All Jack’s Children.”

  That got a laugh. Jillian and I stood together, arms locked. “Nothing will change,” she said. “You’ll still be Jack’s favorite. And Richard will nuzzle his way in ahead of me.”

  I giggled. “He’ll slash his way in. With his machete.”

  Tony couldn’t stop nodding. “I like the new family. There are strong genes moving in. We can always use new blood.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I said. “Like, we need more corruption in this family. Like we need a mafia lord who controls the entire Pacific Rim.”

  Jack looked at Tony and Tony looked back.

  Tony’s eyes were dancing. “You’re naive, Charlie. Very naïve. Exactly who do you think I am?”

  Jack’s whisky came up through his nose.

  By six a.m. Jack and I had guzzled the others under the table, figuratively speaking. Tony and Jillian staggered off to bed but we hung in.

  “So
you liked my fairytale,” Jack said.

  “Now I do. But you had me going for a while.”

  He chuckled. “You looked pretty anxious I have to say.”

  “Can you blame me? You threw a wrench into my childhood. I was ten years old when I came to live with you. And you’ve done nothing but torment me ever since. Are you ever going to let me be?”

  He made a face. “No. I don’t see any reason to. Until you came along I had only Tony to pick on. And Tony doesn’t get all flustered like you do. You’re a lot more fun.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “But we did accomplish something though, Hamster. We got Jillian going. That loud sobbing coming from her bedroom turned into gales of laughter. She had a party tonight and had such a lot of fun.”

  “She was drunk, Jack. She’ll be sober today and sobbing again.”

  “Then I’ll make up another story. That’s what dad’s do. But she’ll get over him. She got over Leonard fast enough. And Overcoat before the Cleaver. Tomorrow there’ll be someone new and another wedding by Christmas.”

  I smacked my chops.

  “Not you, you big mutt. But speaking of Leonard there’s something you should know.” He shifted in his chair, pulled a paper from his pocket, and tossed it on my lap.

  “What?” It was an email from Leonard in Oregon wanting more money. “I don’t get it.”

  “You wouldn’t since you’re not in the habit of buying people. Not yet, at least. I bought Leonard off. And he wasn’t that greedy. In fact, I couldn’t believe it was so goddamn easy.”

  “Well, apparently he thinks he’s worth more from what I’m reading.”

  Jack couldn’t stop giggling. “Can you believe it? Like he thinks this is an extortion plan. That he can squeeze me for more. Silly bugger. I say let him come back and tell Jilly he accepted a payoff. She’ll really respect him for that.”

  I sat back in my chair to study my surrogate dad, my mentor, the man I longed to be. Maybe it was time to tell him.

  Tony came in with a coffee pot and three mugs on a tray. The guy never slept. “Time to straighten up, Jackie.” At the bar he poured three steaming cups of coffee adding cream, sugar and a double shot of whiskey in each.

  “What took you so long?” barked Jack. “I almost sobered up.”

  Handing Jack his mug, Tony slapped him on the head. “For what you’re paying me? Well, best not to get into that.”

  The three of us sipped in silence until Tony casually said, “Charlie. Is there something you’d like to tell your new dad?”

  Eek. He knew. I tried to buy time. “I guess.”

  He tossed me the Tony look. “Charlie? We haven’t got all day.”

  “Alright, already.” I cleared my throat. “There’s something I need to tell you, Jack. But it stays within this room. It’s not for your new son Richard’s ears. Ever.”

  He yawned. “Did you rob a bank, Hamster?”

  “Sort of. I robbed a heroin shipment.”

  He bolted up in his chair. “What? You did what?”

  Tony’s eyes were dancing out of his head.

  “I robbed a shipment. But it’s more complicated than that. It wasn’t about the drugs at all.”

  Jack looked confused. “I’ll need another coffee, Tony. What the hell was it about then?”

  “I should likely tell you when you’re sober so you’ll remember.”

  My turn to get a slap on the head from Tony Chan.

  “Alright. The godfather has spoken so I’ll tell you, Jack.”

  Tony was breathing down my neck. “From the beginning.”

  Big deep breath. “Well, you know most of it. The drugs come ashore, I find them at Pearson, tell Richard that he may go down so he backs off. But what Richard doesn’t know is that something else is buried in his shipment. Something considerably more valuable than heroin.”

  Jack’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  I looked at Tony. “He may need another coffee for this.”

  Tony complied. “He’ll sleep for a week but maybe we’ll get some peace for a change.”

  I treaded softy. “I’ll back up a bit. Leo is a collector of priceless Chinese antiques. Ming vases and such. He also knows buyers up and down the coast so when he stumbles upon a collection of hot artifacts in China he leaps. He controls Richard’s shipments, as you know, from field to production to export.”

  Tony looked bored. “Get to the point, Charlie.”

  “So Leo decides to pack a few Chinese treasures into the shipment, like stolen bronze daggers dating back to the Qiang minority, 5th century BCE. Only 27 cm in size they fit nicely into double-barreled oil drums. There are also priceless jade pots and urns and dragons in the loot, etcetera. All small and just the right size to be tucked between bags of heroin.”

  Jack’s eyes grew huge. “How did you know they were there?”

  “I didn’t. I came across them unpacking the drugs.”

  “And?”

  “And someone in our presence may want to fill you in.”

  Tony screwed up his face. “Willy knew. And so did Reynolds Woo. Their competition was never about the drugs. Both were hacking into Leo’s mail. They were both after the priceless artifacts.”

  Jack was calculating. “What are they worth, Tony?”

  He chortled. “They’re priceless, Jackie. Hardly anybody has enough money to buy them.”

  He shifted in his chair. “So who does?”

  Tony looked at me. “Who does, Charlie?”

  “The artifacts will be split between two distributors, one here in Vancouver, the other in LA. Willy has one and Reynolds Woo the other. Through these middlemen, private collectors will pay hundreds of millions for a tiny sword or a dragon.”

  Jack was mulling. “And what’s in it for you, Hamster?”

  I tried to be cool but was visibly sweating. “Well, if I don’t turn the loot in I’ll collect a finder’s fee. I’d share some with Jackie, of course. I owe him a lot for almost getting him killed.”

  Tony couldn’t stop smiling. “And, of course, the godfather will get his cut.”

  Jack made a sour face. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Hamster.”

  I stretched my neck. “You must be devastated since you’ve never kept secrets from me.”

  He turned to his confident and they locked eyes. “What do you think about this little shit, Tony?”

  “I think he’s a lot like his dad. Like father like son. Can you believe it, Jackie? Charlie’s gone bad.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “Hopefully you’ll remember your old dad during your new crime spree, son.”

  Tony shook his wise old head. “As I said, like father like son. You won’t get a wooden nickel.”

  Jack’s eyes teemed with devilment. “Maybe I won’t. But then again, maybe I will. In case you haven’t noticed The Jack is back.”

  At that point I made a wise decision. I decided not to tell the two old hopefuls that I had every intention of turning the artifacts in.

  BOOK TWO

  Chapter One

  OVER THE COURSE OF THE next three weeks I drank enough vodka to kill a large bull. It was all Beethoven’s fault. Beethoven kept tempting me to drink from the bottle with his face etched into it, so I did. Straight from the bottle since the dishwasher and sink were piled high with dirty glasses. But about Beethoven. Wasn’t the guy German and ought to have been guzzling Schnapps? Not that it mattered. Beethoven and I were best buds now. I called him Beeto and he, in turn, never once lectured me on drinking to excess because he knew how bitter I was. I told him often enough.

  Jack had put the screws to me for the last time. I was an orphan now and it didn’t feel half-bad. It didn’t feel half-good either but then who was counting? At least Jack couldn’t steal from me anymore. Imagine him ordering his thugs to break into my condo and to steal the priceless Chinese artifacts I’d planned to hand over to the law. And imagine him partnering with my former best bud, Willy Chan, also Reynolds Woo, the compute
r-hacking savant, to fence them. Naturally, godfather Tony would get his cut too. Everyone was going to be getting rich but me.

  “I’m saving you from the dark side,” Jack told me when I went to his warehouse to deliver my farewell speech. “I removed the temptation for your own good. I was saving your lily-white ass, Hamster.”

  Well, his Hamster was not going to be his Hamster anymore. His Hamster was going to be his old self — Charlie Hampton, the hotshot PI. If only I believed it. If only I believed that separation from the man who’d raised me in his own corrupt image would be a piece of cake. Cake? A bottle of vodka, maybe. I hurt. I missed the Port. I missed the pungent odor of decaying algae and the clanking of busy cranes rising like long-necked geese to deposit grain and sulfur and lumber into the bowels of freighters, even though Jack’s final words were still stinging me on the ass. He’d been sitting in his worn leather office chair, rubbing his sandy curls and pawing his mustache, a ceremony not unlike a bull hoofing the ground before charging the red flag.

  “If it’s about the money, Hamster, you’ll get it in the end anyway. When I die you and Jillian and your new brother, Richard, will get it all. Well, I’m not leaving Richard a lot, actually. No need to give him another reason to whack me.”

  What? The biggest drug lord on the Pacific Rim might kill his own dad for the money? Not the Richard I knew. No, Richard would do it for the thrill.

  Our final parting words kept plaguing me. “You think I’ll be back, Jack, but I won’t be,” I’d muttered defiantly. I pictured myself trudging away with my hobo pack on a stick over my shoulder. I’d done that before, by the way. Several times, between ages ten and eleven while I was failing to adjust to my new owner, Mr. Jones. “I won’t be back, Jack.”

  His round green eyes had twinkled that same old twinkle. “Gone for good are you, Hamster? Don’t forget your toothbrush.”

  Nice. Since I’d owned my own condo for the past fifteen years I found him about as funny as a broken nose. He’d be sorry though. After I drank myself to death he’d be so damn sorry he’d likely burn my clothes. And maybe I’d be in them. I downed the last drop in the last Beethoven bottle.