The Last Hour (22 page)

With a lopsided grin, Crank held out his hand and said, “I’m Crank Wilson. You must be Carrie’s soldier.”

“Ray Sherman,” I said, and we shook hands. Then the woman came up and grabbed me in a hug. “I’m Julia. I’m so happy to meet you, finally. Carrie’s had a lot to say about you.”

“Mostly good stuff, I hope?”

She smiled. “Sorry. What’s between me and my sisters goes to the grave.”

I chuckled. Then I saw the tiny pixie. Five-two, jet black hair with a bleached white stripe in it. Turquoise stud in her nose. Torn black jeans, and a belt made of linked, polished bicycle chains. Black top that revealed just enough to be tantalizing, and icy blue eyes.
 

“You must be Sarah,” I said. “You look exactly like Carrie described you,” I said, raising an eyebrow at Carrie. She just grinned, the minx.

“Hi,” Sarah replied.
 

“We ready to eat?” Crank asked. “Julia and I are going to have to bug out early to prep for the show.”

So we all took our seats, and immediately Julia, Alex and Carrie started talking with each other. A couple of minutes later, a waitress appeared and took our orders.

Dylan leaned forward and said, “You been all right, Weed? Haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

I shrugged. “I’m still getting visits from our friends.”

He grimaced then said, “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

I nodded. “I will.”

Alex must have been listening with an ear, because she reached out, almost unconsciously, and took Dylan’s hand. It was sweet and reminded me how lucky I was to have Carrie.

Crank must have noticed the grouping ... he and Julia, Alex and Dylan, Carrie and me, leaving Sarah in a sort of odd-girl out position. He leaned forward and said, “What have you been up to, Sarah? Still working on guitar?”

Sarah got a huge grin on her face and nodded, proudly.
 

“I want to see your guitar later. Julia said it was an old one?”

Sarah got a sly look on her face and said, “It’s a ‘69 Les Paul custom.”

Crank raised his eyebrows. “Where did you find that? And how did you afford it?”

“Antique shop, believe it or not. The neck was cracked, so I was able to get it for two grand. And then I had to save for six more months to get it repaired.”

“Worth it,” Crank said. “But where did you get two grand?”

“Oh God,” Alex said.

Crank raised his eyebrows, so Alex leaned forward and said, “Sarah sold her viola. And half her dresses. And her jewelry. And her laptop.”

Julia burst out, “Mom must have gone ballistic.”

“A little bit,” Sarah said. “But I have that effect on her.”

“Trust me, I get that,” Julia said.
 

An uncomfortable look passed between all four sisters. Carrie had told me a little about her mom, but not much. I chimed in, mostly to change the subject, turning to Julia and asking, “Where did you two meet?”

She grinned and said, “I don’t know if I should say with two soldiers at the table.”

I raised my eyebrows, and Crank said, “We met at an anti-war protest, back in 2002.”

I shrugged. “I don’t have any problem with that. Even if we don’t agree politically, at least you were engaged in it. Most people don’t even know there’s a war going on.”

Dylan met my eyes, and it was an uncomfortable moment. And then he did something that I never expected. He lifted his glass toward me and said, “Fallen comrades.”

I winced and lifted mine to his. “Fallen comrades,” I muttered.

The rest of the table went utterly silent. But Carrie slid her arm around my side, and it was all better.

Dylan and I had just waded into a minefield, so I quickly changed the subject. “So I gotta say, I’m looking at four brilliant, beautiful women. Your parents must really be something.”

Sarah snickered, and Julia said, “Well, they’re um…”

Crank said, “Control freaks,” at the same moment Dylan said, “Intimidating.”

“Oh,” I replied.
 

All four of the women broke into laughter.

“On the other hand,” Crank said when the laughter died down, “Ambassador Thompson seems to have warmed to me over the years. A little. Although the first five years, I thought for sure he was going to get the Secret Service to hunt me down and kill me like a dog.”

“Mom’s mellowed a lot,” Julia said. “We’ve made peace with each other.”

They looked at each other with warm smiles, and Julia leaned forward and said, “The first time they met Crank, I thought they were going to have heart attacks right then and there. Especially Mother.”

“I remember that,” Sarah said.

Crank raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he said. “You were wicked young.”

“I growled at you.”

Crank chuckled. “It’s true.”

“Should I be worried?” I asked.

Carrie shook her head. “Just be yourself. I don’t imagine you’ll actually meet them until Alex and Dylan’s wedding anyway. And as much as I might like to have it, I don’t
need
their approval.”

Julia looked at her and said, “While true, I wouldn’t put it past Dad to threaten to cut you off financially if he’s not happy.”

“We’ll see how much I care about that. I’ve got a job, I can live without their money if I have to.”

“Dad did it,” Julia replied. I was having trouble keeping up at this point. Except, did Carrie just tell her sisters that she’d risk financial ruin for me? Holy shit.

“Dad did what?” Alex asked.

“He told me years ago, that grandfather disinherited him when they got married. Grandfather changed his mind when the kids came along.”

“I had no idea,” Alex said. “That explains why he didn’t make any similar threats with me.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Why would he do that? You’re perfect! Law school ... you’re everything he wants.”

Alex gave a wistful smile to Sarah, and Dylan said, “Um ... let’s just say, they aren’t too excited about our wedding. Or me.”

This was too much, I thought. I said, “I think my parents are happy to see me walking around still alive. Anything beyond that is gravy at this point.”

Carrie squeezed my hand and said, quietly, “You make me happy. That’s all that matters, Ray.”

Julia checked her watch and said, “Thirty minutes, Crank.”

“Hope the food gets here soon,” he replied.

I looked at him and said, “I gotta admit, in my craziest dreams I never pictured myself sitting here having dinner with Crank Wilson.”

Crank leaned forward and said, “I’m just a guy from Southie. And if Carrie approves of you, you’re family. That’s the bottom line with me.”

“On the other hand,” Julia said, with a sweet looking, friendly smile, “if you ever hurt my sister, I’ll personally hunt you down and kill you.”

Carrie gasped. “Julia!”

Julia’s eyes flicked to Carrie, then she reached out and took her hand. “Relax, sis. I know it’s not likely. I know we don’t get to see each other often enough, any more. But you need to know ... you mean everything to me. So I’m protective. I’d even kick Crank in the nuts if he did anything to make you sad.”

Crank winked at me and then shifted his seat several inches away from his wife. That caused the rest of us to break into raucous laughter, which caused a mildly offended Julia to turn toward Crank. Crank just gave her an innocent smile.

“All right,
Dougal
,” Julia said. Crank winced at the name he’d been born with.
 

Through her laughter, Carrie asked, “How’s Sean doing anyway?”

“He’s all right,” Crank said. “Married now, he lives in Quincy.”

Carrie gasped. I listened, not having a clue who Sean was, but apparently he was someone important to her. They started to chat about Sean and Crank’s family, and I said, “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back.” I gave Carrie a kiss on the cheek and went to look for the back door.

Once I found it, I slipped out into the alley and quickly lit a cigarette. It’s not that I didn’t want to be in there. I did. But I was a little overwhelmed. Okay, cancel that. I was a lot overwhelmed. I used to be a social person, very social. But somewhere along the line between Long Island and Dega Payan, I’d become a little agoraphobic, and much more closed with people. I just needed space for a minute or two.

A moment after I lit my cigarette, the back door opened again, and Dylan appeared. He leaned against the wall and lit a smoke, then said, “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “ I like them. It’s just a bit much.”

Dylan nodded. “Me too. Even Crank. He’s a big shot, but he’s not so different from us really.”

“Except we don’t have paparazzi chasing us.”

“There is that,” he replied.

I looked at Dylan and grinned. “I haven’t said it yet, but thanks for introducing me to Carrie.”

He nodded. “You two look like you’re getting serious.”

I snorted. Then I looked at him and said, “You remember all those times we razzed you about how much you talked about Alex? All the names we called you?”

“What,” he said. “You mean, like ... pussy-whipped? Pudmaster? What else? Nothing else is coming to mind.”

I chuckled. “I take it all back. I get it now.”

“Oh shit, you guys are serious.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got it bad.”

Dylan got a grin on his face. “Well, don’t mess it up. Life’s too short.”

I tossed my cigarette to the ground and stamped it out under my shoe, then clapped my hand on his shoulder. “You’re right about that. Let’s head back in.”

And that’s when my phone rang. I looked down at it and muttered a curse. The caller ID said US ARMY. My heart started thumping wildly, and I answered it with a rude, “What?”

Major Smalls’ voice, calm, came over the phone. “The appropriate way for a Sergeant to answer the phone is not
what
, Sergeant Sherman.”

“Well, write me up then, Major. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m out with my girl and her family. What do you want?”

Dylan stopped, giving me a concerned look. I waved him off.

“Just wanted to make sure we knew your whereabouts. I made it clear you were to keep in touch.”

I lit another cigarette, fiercely took a drag from it, and said, “You know, Carrie was right about that the other day. I don’t know where you get off treating me this way. I
reported it,
damn it!”

Major Smalls sighed on the other end of the line. “Believe me, Sergeant. I do understand. You’re right, it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’d really like to get back to my family. So if you’ll just let me know where you’re going to be tonight, then I will leave you alone. Fair enough?”

“Fine,” I said, spitting out the word. “I’m going to be at Madison Square Garden for the
Morbid Obesity
concert. From there, I’m going to be with my girlfriend. At the Hilton next door. All right? Do you need the fucking room number, Major?”

Dylan stared as I spoke, his face drawn, unhappy.

“No thank you, Sergeant. We’ll be in touch. Happy New Year.”

H
aving a professional artist or musician or writer
in the family is a giant pain in the ass.

Okay. Maybe that’s an overstatement. But the fact is, I always feel just a little awkward, because even though I attended a few of Crank’s concerts when I was eighteen, I’ve never been a huge fan of his music. It’s good ... just not my style. I lean more towards pop. I like sappy songs that make you feel good, or that make you want to cry. Give me Kelly Clarkson or Christina Aguilera any day.
Morbid Obesity?
Not my cup of tea.

Julia, of course, thinks I’m crazy, but then she’s always been a huge music snob. I think she listens to some of the stuff she does just because it’s insanely obscure. I mean, seriously. Dredge up some third world musician who makes his music by pounding the bone of a hyena on the side of a hollowed out tree, and she’d be all over that in one second. But she says
my
music is “over-processed.”

That’s fine. Even with all that, the prospect of going to a live concert with Ray and Dylan and three of my sisters? That sounded like a lot of fun. Alex and I had been planning on attending this concert together for months, ever since the show was announced. Sarah tried to appear cool, because well, she’s almost seventeen, but you could tell she was about to go through the roof with excitement.
 

We had a small cordoned off section just to the right of the stage, right up front. Dylan and Ray both looked shell-shocked from the volume, and I’ll admit, it was loud. Julia stayed with us most of the time, but periodically she’d get a text message or call and rush off for a little while to take care of whatever kinds of crises came up during shows like this.
 

Then Sarah disappeared.
 

Well ... not exactly. In fact, what she did was slip underneath the railing, then jump into the mosh pit.

Alex gasped as we saw her come up, a huge grin on her face. She was jumping up and down in the middle of the crowd, banging into the other teenagers, who were lucky not to have lacerations from all the spikes and chains everyone wore. But I’d never seen a bigger smile on her face, a bigger look of exhilaration.