Page 96 of Red Rooster

“…Oh.”

The old man grinned, teeth surprisingly white and even in his lined, tanned face. “Take that as a yes?”

“Maybe,” Rooster hedged.

“It wouldn’t pay much, but it’d be cash. And your jeans look like they’ve seen better days.”

Rooster sighed.

The man’s grin widened. “Hell, you might even make enough to buy your girlfriend her old hair color back.”

“Jackass,” Rooster said, out loud this time.

The man chuckled. “Oh, for sure. But just Jack’ll do.”

~*~

Jack – the old fuck’s name really was Jack – lived within walking distance of the garage, about a block down, in a cottagey little blue house with a white picket fence and a rose trellis.

“My wife’s doing,” he said, gesturing to the trellis as they walked through it. “She likes flowers and shit.”

Red stifled a giggle in her hand.

“You just sit around reading papers and insulting people, huh?” Rooster said, and when Jack laughed, unoffended and easy, it stirred up an odd sensation in Rooster’s chest. A memory flickered like an old film reel: trading jabs on patrols, laughing and enjoying the laughter of his brothers in arms. Mama jokes, and insults, and raunchy stories that had them clutching their stomachs for breath. It didn’t seem like it was his own life he was looking back on, but a movie, something he couldn’t touch.

Jack led them around the side of the house, down a path of stepping stones, into a shaded backyard that had been landscaped like something out of a fairytale.

“Oh,” Red breathed, clapping her hands together once in delight.

Jack graced her with a fast, kind, grandfatherly smile, and some of Rooster’s agitation with him eased. “Like I said. Flowers and shit.”

It was a profusion of flowers, of all heights and colors and varieties, none of which Rooster knew the names of. Big, overgrown beds lined the fence on all sides, and a small goldfish pond in the center was ringed by waving purple grasses and cattails.

A two-story outbuilding stood at the back, the as-promised guest house that Jack wanted to have fixed up so his grandson could move in next month. At first blush it looked as charming as the house and the garden, but Rooster spotted the loose shingles, the failing windows, and the termite damage after a moment of study.

Jack came to stand beside Rooster, hands braced at his lower back and elbows stuck out in a pose that spoke, unmistakably, of pain. “It was real cute, once,” he lamented. “About ten years ago. It used to be Vicki’s potting shed, after the kids outgrew it as a playhouse. But now it’s just…” He sighed. “Well, you see.”

“It can be fixed,” Rooster said.

“Most things can.”

Rooster slid a sideways glance toward him, but he was studying the carriage house, expression untroubled.

“I’d do the work myself, but my back’s been giving me hell the last two years.” He winced as he pressed his fingertips to either side of his spine. “Jumped outta too many helicopters once upon a time.”

Rooster felt his brows twitch. “You served?”

“Two tours in ‘Nam.” He turned a smile Rooster’s way. “Semper fi.”

“Semper fi,” Rooster echoed, voice blank with surprise. “How’d you know?”

Jack chuckled and glanced back at the house. “You’ve just got the look. And your arm.”

Rooster glanced down and could have kicked himself. He’d pushed his sleeves up on the walk over, and the silvery scars on his left forearm gleamed faintly in the sun.

“Here’s the thing, son,” Jack said, sobering. “I don’t make a point of doing nice things for assholes – I had too much of that working retail for twenty years. But if anyone’s allowed to be an asshole, I figure it’s a Marine who went over there and got himself blown up. So I’ll make you a deal. You fix up my old carriage house, and your girlfriend here can help my Vicki with some things around the house. I’ll pay you cash under the table, and by the time your truck’s fixed, you’ll have some running money to hit the road with.”

Rooster glanced at him sharply, but Jack turned his head slow, expression mild, expectant.

“Well?”

Rooster looked over at Red, kneeling by the fish pond, watching the big orange shapes glide beneath the water. It was the happiest and most peaceful he’d seen her look in months.

He took Jack’s offered hand into his own. “Deal.”