By John de Sousa
“An exciting opportunity lies ahead of you.”
Across the table, Hank folded the slip and threw it into the remains of his shrimp chow mein. “Well, if that refers to Betty Jo zonked out on the sofa again with an empty bottle of vodka”—he rolled his eyes—“I’m gonna pass. Homicide’s still illegal in Texas. If I wait long enough, the booze’ll do the job for me.”
I tried to hide my shock. “Wow, Hank. Lighten up, buddy. New Year’s is supposed to be a festive occasion.”
“I am being festive.” Hank pointed his fork at me. “You should see me when I’m depressed.”
I blinked as our waitress topped off my water.
“It’s true, Gunny.” Walt nudged my elbow, causing me to nearly drop my chopsticks. “Don’t cha remember last New Year’s when he skipped out on us early?”
“Seasonal affective disorder.” Hank narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah, but for you it’s every season.” Walt winked at him. “It’s prob’ly why Betty Jo drinks so much.”
“Bah,” Hank dismissed him with a wave, then shot me a dark glance. “She drinks ‘cause of her ex-husband. I’m just the boyfriend gettin’ the fall-out.”
His callous quip made me hurt for Betty Jo. The bottle was merciless. I knew all too well.
Hank nodded to Thurman, on my left. “You’re next, old man. What’s your fortune for ‘24?”
Thurman raised his eyebrows as he took the cookie into his age-spotted fingers. Struggled, then broke it in half and withdrew the slip. He held it up at a slight distance from his eyes.
“You… are…” he paused to clear his throat, “wise… beyond… your years.” Thurman bobbed his head. “I suppose that’s good.”
“Good?” Walt stammered. “That’s great! You’re already eighty-three. You must be a genius!”
“I’m only eighty-two, son. Least ‘til February. Don’t send me off before my time!”
Hank guffawed. “Hey, enjoy your wisdom while you have it. In ten years, you’ll be lucky to remember your name.”
“As long as the Lord remembers it, I’ll be fine, young man.” Thurm placed the slip on the table.
“Bah, whatever.” Hank smirked, then tapped the rim of my plate with his fork. “You’re up, slugger. What’s yours say?”
“And hurry up.” Walt poked his watch. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Why don’t you go first, newsman? Tonight’s top story!” I hated to be rushed.
Walt shrugged. “Already checked. Mine’s empty.”
“No fortune?” Hank wiggled his fingers. “Scary!”
“Yeah, well, I swapped mine with yours earlier,” Walt snipped. “C’mon, Gunny. What’s yours say?”
I picked up the cookie, somehow already broken, and withdrew my fortune. I squinted at the tiny red letters. “What in the world?”
Walt scrunched his face. “What is it, Gunny?”
“Yeah, bud.” Hank’s demanding tone. “Good news? Bad news?”
I pondered the words before speaking. A foreboding chill crossed my skin. “If this were your last meal… who would you call?”
“Last meal?” Walt shivered. “Now that’s creepy.”
Silence hung in the air as everyone considered the question. Firecrackers popped from within the kitchen.
Walt broke out of his stupor and glanced at his watch. “They’re early. It’s still two minutes to midnight.”
I tensed. “But it’s not even Chinese New—”
The kitchen doors slammed open, and a man stumbled out, clutching his crimson-stained T-shirt. “Shooter!” he hollered, knocking over the drink cart as he fell to the floor. Glasses shattered with a jarring crash as another figure clad in black emerged from the kitchen, a ski mask covering his face.
Screams and gunshots filled the room as customers clamored for the exit. Hank jolted twice, then slumped into his food. More shots. Acrid smoke. Thurman slid to the floor, a prayer on his lips.
“I’m calling 9-1-1!” Walt crouched under the table, phone in hand.
I ran for the hallway. Just as I turned toward the men’s room, my ribs suddenly seared in pain. I pushed open the door and hobbled to the last stall. After shutting myself in, I pulled in a torturous breath and examined my wound.
The exposed broken rib chilled me. What couldn’t I see? Could 9-1-1 even help?
I lowered myself to the commode. Last meal… who would I call?
My sponsor’s voice echoed within. Make amends.
I clenched my teeth. Extracted my phone. Red-soaked fingers keyed in the number.
On the first ring, my ex-wife’s trembling voice responded. “Gunny?”
“Betty Jo,” I rasped, “I don’t have much time. But I needed to talk to you. Needed to hear your voice.”
“Oh, Gunny! I’m so grateful you called.” She sniffled as though crying. “I needed to hear your voice too.”
An unexpected answer, but a good start. “Sweetheart, I need to apologize before…” I cleared my throat. “Well, I realize what a nightmare I put you through when I was drinking, and I’m sorry. I let you down so many times, in so many ways. You deserved better.” I winced as the pain stabbed my side. “I’m sober now. It’s been over a year. I hope you can somehow forgive me.”
“Thank you, G-Gunny. I’ve… I’ve already forgiven you.” A chaos of crowd noise in the background made it hard to hear. “I’m c-clean now too. For a week… at least.”
I smiled through the pain.
“And… I miss you.” She sucked in a short breath and groaned. “I just hope I’ll live to see you again.”
She hoped she’d live? “Betty Jo, are you okay? Where are you?”
“Wenzhou’s Buffet. I came to break up with Hank but… I’ve been shot!”
“Oh, no!” My mind reeled. She’s here!
A bang in the distance echoed loudly through the phone, jarring me.
“The man just shot himself.” Her voice quivered. “But I… it really hurts.”
Gritting my teeth, I stood as sirens rang in the distance. “Stay calm, Betty Jo. I’m on my way.”
“Please hurry. I’m scared, Gunny.”
“I will, sweetheart. Hang tough. We’re gonna make it. We have to.”
I clutched my side and stepped through the door.
“It’s… our fortune.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nice twist at the end!
Thanks! I love a good twist!
Oh my gosh! The foreshadowing, the chaotic event that moved him to action, the twists, turns, and moment of resolution — all packed completely into this story quite well, indeed. My hand went to my mouth in utter surprise. Tremendous job!
Thanks so much, Becky! I so appreciate that! And thanks for your great prompt that inspired this! 😊😊
Wow! I think this is everyone’s worst nightmare (mine, at least). Loved the resolution at the end and the twist!
Thanks so much, Arlan! I agree, may that never be in our lives!
So many surprises! Great story, Dad! I loved it.
Thank you, Lisa! I’m glad you enjoyed it! 😊🤗
That was… shocking. Incredible story, Pop!
Thank you, Maia! It really was a fun project to write! Even if a bit weighty at times!
That’s a wicked turn in the story. Nicely done.
Thank you, Alex! I’m so glad you enjoyed it! 😎👍
Not sure if “nice” is the correct word to use, considering the terror and darkness of it, but I really-really like this.
Thank you, Rosemarie! It’s kind of odd that I tend to write dark thrillers because my personality is so the opposite. LOL! But I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Thanks! 😊
WOW!!
So much skill in so few words! Well done, sir!!
Rose, that means the world to me! Thank you so much for your encouragement! 😊🙏
Powerful ending!