Icarus. (25 page)

"I wouldn't get carried away," Dom said. "They're nice enough. Mostly they're sharp as shit and they get the job done. But I'm glad you like 'em so much. If you ever want your old job back…"

"I keep forgetting who I'm talking to," Jack said, then looked at his watch. "I told him not to be late."

"Kid's never been on time since he was twelve years old," Dom told him. "Relax."

"It's just-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what it's just. It's just that you haven't been back to the restaurant since…" He hesitated, saw the fear in Jack's eyes, decided to plunge ahead anyway, it was the right thing to do. "… since she died and you're nervous about it. You got a right to be nervous about it, pal. And guess what? You'll feel like shit for a while and then it'll get better. You gotta do it sometime so you might as well do it now. And don't think I'm tryin' to take your mind off this whole thing, but I gotta tell ya, you're walkin' just about normal now. You look really good. Who'da thought Kid'd actually know what the hell he was doin'?"

"I heard that." It was Kid. His voice came from somewhere among the hanging slabs of meat but they couldn't see him yet. Jack heard footsteps, then heard a punching sound – like fists hitting a heavy bag – and he saw one of the hanging pigs off to the side start to sway. Kid stepped out from behind the pig, rubbing his right fist. He jerked his head toward the moving pork slab. "He gave me a tough fight, but I knew he'd weaken around the seventh. I'm sorry I'm late."

Dom snorted and Kid gave Jack a "what's up with him?" look. Jack shrugged as if he had no idea.

"So what's this big business idea you're goin' off to discuss?" Dom asked. "And do I get to buy in?"

"You'll get your chance," Kid said. "If Jack thinks there's anything to it."

"I can't believe you're usin' him as the sounding board. I taught this guy everything he knows about business."

"That's true," Jack said. "That's why it's a miracle I ever made a dime."

"Nothin' but grief," Dom muttered. "Nothin' but grief…" And then both he and Jack were looking at Kid, who was standing still in the middle of the warehouse, a distant look in his eyes. He looked up questioningly at Jack, who was taking off the white apron he'd worn to slice up the calf, and Jack nodded solemnly.

"I didn't even think when I told you to meet me here… I thought you'd like it."

"I've been here since then," Kid said. "And I do like it. I don't always think about it. But today… I don't know, it just seemed to hit me." He stared down at the floor. "It was right about here, wasn't it?"

"He was slingin' a side of beef," Dom said. "On his way to the loadin' dock. No warnin', no pain, no nothin'."

"Just dead," Kid said quietly. "Forty-four years old and dead of a heart attack." His voice caught and when he spoke again he sounded angry. "He didn't take care of himself. Drank and ate every shitty thing he could put in his mouth. Just another fat slob with a beer belly! He was so goddamn stupid."

"Your dad was a good man," Dom said.

"Yeah, he was," Kid agreed. "A fat, stupid bastard but a good man."

Jack tossed the bloody apron on the floor and put his sports jacket on. "Are you ready for lunch?" he asked and put his arm around Kid's shoulder. "Let's go. We'll make a whole ghost-filled day out of it."

– "-"-"IT WAS STRANGE being back at Jack's but not as awful as he'd feared.

The lineup had changed somewhat, but he recognized most of the servers and even most of the bussers. The decor hadn't changed, at least not so he could tell at a first look around. It was no longer his and it was part of a giant syndicate, but it still felt like Jack's. And he was surprised at how good it was to be back inside, ghosts or no ghosts.

"I always thought this place looked classy," Kid said as they were led to their table.

"That's because Caroline designed it," Jack told him.

The chef came out of the kitchen now, saw Jack, and rushed over to hug him. "I'm hating this" was the first thing he said into Jack's ear. "Already they're in my kitchen, asking me how come I use ten pounds more of onions than they use in Chicago. What am I supposed to do?"

"Solve it," Jack told him. "I'm out."

"I thought you were a consultant."

"I am. Consultant's a fancy word for 'out.'"

"We miss you, Jack."

"I miss you guys, too."

"You want me to make something special for you?"

"As long as I get a side of Jack's Potatoes."

The chef then turned to Kid, who said, "Anything other than red meat."

Jack shrugged, a "what can I do?" gesture, and Kid said, "Hey, the body's a temple, you know," then the chef nodded and rushed back toward the kitchen.

The waitress was over in a moment and, for the first time, Jack saw Kid in action. All he did was order a sparkling water – but that's all it took.

"Is Pellegrino okay?" she asked, and if he said that it wasn't, Jack was fairly sure she'd burst into tears. Or offer to run to the store and buy him a bottle of Perrier.

"Pellegrino's fine," Kid told her and flashed a grin.

She nodded and smiled back shyly. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Like what?" Kid asked.

"I don't know," she stammered. "I guess Chef already took your order, didn't he?"

"He did," Jack said but she barely glanced over at him.

"I'll let you know if we need anything," Kid told her. "I promise." And she slid away across the floor, turning to look back at him several times before she managed to reach the bar and put their drink order in.

"Okay, I'm impressed," Jack said. "Nauseated but impressed."

"Don't be," Kid said back. "I'm thinkin' of giving up the Team."

"Excuse me, is that the sound of hearts breaking I hear?"

"I'm serious," Kid said.

"I don't think so," Jack told him. "Not after watching you with her."

Kid leaned forward, spoke quietly now. "Listen," he said. "Things have changed."

"What things?"

"The Destination. I think I have to tell you about her."

Jack didn't interrupt, he just nodded, letting Kid know that he could say absolutely anything.

"She told me something and it kind of shook me."

"Hard to imagine what would shake you."

"Yeah, I know. But this did. She told me a secret."

"Must have been some secret."

"It was. And I have to tell you a few other things. The Mistake… I need to find out where the Mistake was…"

"I'm not following."

"I know I'm not making sense. Give me a few more days. I'm really close."

Kid's eyes flicked up to look toward the front of the restaurant. He grimaced, shook his head slowly, and raised his hand in a wave. He looked back at Jack and said, "My partner's here."

Jack looked up, too, and gave a half wave toward the young man making his way through the restaurant.

"Listen," Kid said, and there was a quiet urgency to his voice that made Jack narrow his eyes. "I told her a secret, too."

"The Mistake?"

Kid looked startled but just said, "No. The Destination. She knows a lot of stuff now."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Complicated stuff. I just want you to know that. A couple of them do."

"Are you all right, Kid? You seem-"

"Yeah, I'm great… I'm great. But remember what I said. A couple of them know…"

Before Jack could ask another question, the restaurant anchor was upon them and Jack turned to greet Kid's oldest and dearest friend as he reached their table. Jack hadn't seen Bryan Bishop since he was about twenty years old, maybe four or five years ago. But the boy hadn't aged much. He still had a teenager's face and the friendly, open expression that Jack recalled as soon as he spotted him. Kid was right – Bryan had lost a lot of his size. In college he'd been huge, a lineman on the football team. Kid had said something about steroids; even at that age athletes were fed them. But those days were apparently over because, although obviously in sensational shape – he was still bigger than Kid and looked even more powerful – he was back to being normal-sized. As Bryan approached, Jack remembered him as a sort of loyal sidekick, not very polished, not nearly as bright as Kid, but ingenuous and impossible to dislike. None of those impressions changed as Bryan pulled out a chair, hesitated, then stuck his hand awkwardly in Jack's direction.

"You probably don't remember me, Mr. Keller," Bryan said, almost apologetically, as they shook hands, "but-"

"Of course I remember you, Bryan," Jack said. "I can still see that block you threw that sprung Kid. In that championship game…"

"Against Malloy," Bryan said, and when Jack nodded, Bryan's whole face lit up.

"Monster block," Jack said.

"I knew I always liked you, Mr. Keller," Bryan told him and Jack thought he'd never seen such a pleased grin on anyone's face.

"Doofus," Kid said now, looking in Bryan's direction, "I told you to wear a tie."

Bryan looked down at his outfit – jeans, running shoes, a muscle shirt with the words "Hanson Fitness Center" on the front, and a too-big tweedy sports jacket thrown over him – and shrugged. "I thought I looked okay," he said.

"You look fine," Jack told him and Bryan grinned sheepishly.

Jack waited until Bryan ordered – the waitress was delighted to have another opportunity to come over to the table – and then he put the manila envelope he'd been holding on top of the table. Kid, who'd given Jack his business plan three days earlier, watched nervously as Jack opened the envelope and removed a batch of papers. He smacked them down on the tablecloth, a tad flamboyantly, even he knew it, and said, "Tell me why you guys want to open a gym."

"'Cause we always have," Bryan said excitedly, enthusiastically. "Ever since we were kids-"

"Bryan," Kid said, not too sharply but pointedly enough that the bigger man looked embarrassed and immediately stopped talking. Kid turned to Jack and spoke calmly and seriously. "It's all we've ever talked about, Jack. When we were just starting to fool around with weights and when we started playing ball and, you know, learning about the body and how things worked, it's all we wanted to do. Between the two of us, we know a lot about it. I mean, you can see what the Wall" – he stopped, then nodded his head at Bryan; the Wall was clearly Kid's longtime nickname for him – "what Bryan looks like. That actually means a lot. It's inspiring for someone to come into a gym and work out with a guy like him. And I know a lot of different things: the physical therapy, different approaches to training. And now that I'm almost done with school, I've got a good idea of what's needed on the business side – how to make this whole thing work. We think there's a real market for what we have to offer: a small, personalized gym, a little upmarket, top-of-the-line equipment, top-of-the-line trainers – class." He looked around the restaurant. "Like this place."

Jack stared at Kid, just for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said. "Whatever it costs, you can put me in for half."

Kid and Bryan looked at each other in stunned silence. Neither seemed able to speak until Bryan burst out: "Are you kidding?"

"I'm not kidding," Jack said.

"Half of… whatever it costs?" Kid asked.

"You got it."

Kid could barely get his words out. "Jack… this is unbelievable. I mean… I don't know what to say. I mean, this is really a big thing for me."

"I know it is. That's why I'm doing it."

"Thanks, Mr. Keller." Bryan was floundering. He didn't even know where to begin. "Geez… I never had nobody do anything like this for me before. I…"

"Well, I'm willing to do it. You understand that, right? Both of you. I said I'd do it and I will."

"Yeah, Jack, we understand it. We-"

"But it won't work."

Another silence fell over the table. This one was not steeped in gratitude. This was an awkward and unpleasant quiet.

"I want you to listen to me," Jack said. "Both of you."

"I don't understand," Bryan said slowly. His words were a bit thick and plodding and Jack could tell he was trying to be polite and professional. But the hurt on his face was obvious. As was the confusion. "Why won't it work?"

"It doesn't matter," Kid said quickly. And his words sounded harsh. He was practically jumping out of his seat. "He said he'd give us the money. That's all that matters."

"But why won't it work?" Bryan wanted to know. He never turned toward Kid, never took his eyes off Jack. He looked like he was going to burst into tears.

"It'll work," Kid said urgently. "I worked unbelievably fucking hard on that plan and I know it'll work."

Now Bryan turned to look at his friend. "But he said-"

"Forget what he said!" Kid was practically screaming now. "He'll give us the money! That's what we need! I'll make it work!"

"Kid," Jack said. His eyes narrowed; he was shocked at the tone in Kid's voice. "For Christ sake, calm down and listen to me."

"It'll work, Jack! There's no reason it won't work!"

"There are two reasons. One, you're behind the curve. The big chains have already taken over. Reebok's got the West Side, the Vertical Club's got the East Side, Crunch has got downtown. And there are a lot of boutiques already established. I didn't just read your plan, I did some checking, talked to a few people."

"Those gyms you're talking about, they aren't real gyms," Bryan said. He spoke quietly. He was trying to absorb what Jack was saying. He was careful not to fly off the handle like Kid. "I mean, they're not serious. I've been to them. Really, Mr. Keller. They're for a bunch of phonies. We really know how to train."

"Bryan," Kid said. "He's giving us the money. It's okay."

"But if he doesn't think it's gonna work," Bryan said. "If he doesn't think it's gonna work…"

"Look," Jack said. He was trying to bring the conversation back to something manageable. He was astonished at Kid's reaction and he didn't want to let Kid's anger and frustration get out of hand. "Look at this restaurant. This place was my dream. I opened it because I knew I could do it right. The same way you can do a gym right. I'm not questioning that. But that's not enough. Especially not now, not these days."