Page 41 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
John.Right.I dialed nine-one-one, hoping to be patched directly to my neighbor next door.I’d barely explained my predicament when the squawk of radio chatter was outside my door.I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and a blanket to wrap in and whipped the door wide.“I’m in labor.”
He had the radio in one hand and the other raised to knock.His mouth was open, but I didn’t give him time to talk.
“Move,” His car was just down the street and I was determined to get my ass in it.
“Hold on, it’s icy.”He stuck his arm out, radio and all, for me to brace myself on.
Which worked for the steps I kept meticulously salted, but as soon as I hit the road, I slid.
He came down with me and slightly under me so I hadn’t landed hard, but it tore something loose.Cramps that wouldn’t let up started at my back and shot right to my crotch.“John?”
“You okay?”
“No.”I fought to keep the tears inside.I was going to die.Zoe was going to die.“Help.”
He tried to stand up and offered a hand.
I shook my head.“Get the car right here, help me in the back.Get me to the hospital as fast as possible with these damn roads.”I spoke each word carefully and didn’t yell, but you’d have thought I did.
Twenty miles an hour was the maximum speed.On the bridge, he hit his lights so people would move out of the way for us.
I breathed like I was supposed to and held on for dear life with the single intent of getting to the hospital without screaming or hysterics or anything.But I was freaking out.The hospital would take my name into the system.Shock would find me.He’d take Zoe.He’d kill Jackson.“John, do you have any cousins who are terrible?”
“What?”
“Cousins, relatives, something, someone I can blame this on and use their last name for the hospital.Shock is going to find me.”
Crystal and I talked about this at length.She’d told me about her third cousin, Barry Hunnebaker, who was a drug addict with little memory.Blaming him with her say-so was our plan.But something about giving Zoe a mouthful last name like Hunnebaker killed me inside.I wanted something shorter.Fewer syllables.“John?”I searched the mirror to see his face.
His eyes met mine.“You’re asking me to lie.”
I was.A cop, my friend, my neighbor.One of the few people who gave a shit about me.“I’m sorry.”
“No, I get it.I did some digging on your ex.He’s a piece of work.”
That was an understatement.
“Back in the day, there was this guy who’d come fishing every summer.He brought his kid with him.”
Was he talking about One-Eyed Jack?I panted and listened as hard as I could.
“Every year, he’d make up a new name.One year, he was Johnny Van Zandt.But I knew some Van Zandts and called him on it.Said at least change up the name a bit if you’re going to pretend you’re someone famous.Ol’ Jack laughed at that.”
“The point?”We were about five minutes from the hospital despite the slow speeds.The roads here were good, barely icy at all.The rain was just that, rain.
“Point being, pick your favorite rock star.”
“I don’t have one.”Those damn posters flashed in my mind and made me ill on top of everything else.
“Country singer?”
“I hate music.”
“Pick any name then.”
Jackson, Zoe Jackson, echoed in my head.I searched for a name that wouldn’t tie to her father so tightly.“Brown.Last name Brown, first name…” I was at a loss.
“Jackson Brown, huh?”
