Ace and Jack

A Tale of Ace Gallagher Short from Book #5
by Jill D'Entremont

A constant stream of muttering blended with the opening and closing of drawers and the shuffling of their contents.

“He wants me to get out of his sight, I’ll get out of his sight…”

Two small hands covered in oversized fingerless gloves jammed another shirt into an old cloth bag. Its lumpy pear-shape was quickly filled with clothing and other meager belongings.

“He won’t have to see me ever again... I won’t have to eat any more of his family’s food, I won’t have to take up any more space in his family’s home…”

An angry scowl twisted his young face as he glared at the wooden nightstand he sat in front of.

“And I won’t have to be reminded of the stupid mistakes my real mom made that got me here in the first place…”

The doorknob turned. 

Wide green eyes beneath messy tan hair peeked over the bed he was crouched behind, and his heart leapt into his throat as the door opened.

A tall, lanky teenager with a dark mop of hair on his head was standing in the doorway.

It was James.

The boy’s form deflated with relief, though a different sort of pang began to take over in his stomach. Cautiously, he raised his shoulders in defense as his brother gently shut the door and walked around their pair of beds to see what he had been hiding.

James’ eyes grew wide. “Wh…”

Michael frowned, glancing at the cloth bag and the half-open nightstand.

James shook his head, gritting his teeth.  “Mm–you’re–leaving?” His voice squeaked between its youthful pitch and the deeper timbre it had been shifting to.

Michael hunched over.  “I have to. I can’t do this anymore… And you know why.”

James let out a breath and dropped onto the ground beside him. He frowned as he touched the bruise forming on Michael’s cheek. He, too, carried the marks of their father, but it was nothing his oversized pullover couldn’t cover.

“You should come with me,” Michael pleaded, tugging on James’ sleeve as he spoke into an ear barely visible beneath a mess of black hair.

James’ eyes lost their focus as his mind rushed with thought. His head slowly rocked from side to side. “I can’t,” he said simply, “can’t leave M–m-mom.”

The rock in Michael’s stomach sank deeper, and he curled further forward. “I don’t want to leave her either,” he admitted, “but I can’t stay. Besides, it will help both of you out if I just leave.”

"What–n-no!"

The boy wrung his fingers together. “The longer I’m here, the more Dad’s gonna get mad and yell at me–and the more you’re gonna get hurt because you try to stop him! And Dad doesn’t care one bit if he hurts you because he knows you can’t say anything back at him!” He scowled at the ground as his twelve-year-old mind attempted to process his thoughts into words. Finally, he spouted simply, “He’s just–mean–and I hate him!!”

“Michael–”

“I’m not even supposed to be in this family!” The boy blurted in exasperation.

“Don’t you even s–s-say that!” He grasped his younger brother’s arms and held tightly.  “Just because Dad s–says–ss–mm–it’s not true!” He finally spit out his words.

Michael looked hard into James’ eyes. “But it is. He tells me all the time that he’s not my dad. And Mom isn’t my mom, because my real mom was ‘worthless’. And you–you’re not even my brother.”

“Yes, I am.” He spoke the words clearly, though his mouth was beginning to bend with a frown. “I don’t care what anyone s... says. I don’t–mm–care that we have different m-moms. You are my brother, Michael.” Slowly, he let go of Michael and sighed. “But, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The boy grimaced sorrowfully. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore either,” he stressed, “that’s why I want you to come with me!”

The harsh squeal of their home’s back door had both pairs of eyes darting to their bedroom door.

Michael frantically pulled the strings of his bag tight and pulled it over his shoulder. He then grabbed a white scarf from the bed and looped it around his neck.

James grabbed his gloved hand as he began to stand up. He reached under the bed with his other hand and produced a worn deck of cards.

Michael’s eyes widened. “Those are yours,” he looked James in the eye.

“N-now they’re yours.” James set them into Michael’s hand with a light smile. “You’re w–w-way better at playing than me.”

Michael pouted. “But, I like to play them with you.”

“Why do you think you got–t-t-to be Ace when I’m just Jack?”

Michael sucked in a breath when he heard their nicknames for each other. He shook his head, but when James remained unmoved, Michael could do nothing more than accept the deck and grab him in a tight hug. 

James wrapped his arms around his younger brother and huffed into his hair.

“Take care of Momma,” Michael muttered into James’ pullover.

“I w–w,” he swallowed. “Okay.”

When they stepped apart, they looked at each other in pain, yet understanding. Michael tried to stand as straight as he could across from his much taller brother, while James’ form was almost slumped from the weight of their situation.

Another slam and an unintelligible shout rippled through the boys. Michael knew it was now or never. He stuffed the cards into his pocket.

“Thanks, Jack.” He tried to smile despite the tears in his eyes.

James’s lips pressed into a sorrowful grin. “B... be careful,” he whispered, “Ace.”

He almost couldn’t watch as his brother ducked through the window and ran off into the gathering darkness of evening. He caught one last glimpse when he passed under the light of a gas street lamp before he disappeared completely.

James was still staring out the open window when the bedroom door was thrown open.

“What did I tell you about keeping your door closed?” Calder’s voice bellowed, followed by heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. “How are you supposed to hear me if I need you? And why is the window open??”

The teen was pulled out of the way by the back of his shirt collar as the gruff man pushed through. He curled away into the corner, watching as his father forcefully pushed the window closed and loudly flicked the locks.

“You boys need to keep this window shut and the door open; do you hear me?” He shot an angry glance.

James did not reply. He cautiously watched as his father muttered under his breath and stormed back out of the room, shoving the open door against the adjacent wall in his wake.

He shut his eyes. His father hadn’t even noticed Michael wasn’t there.

–

James slipped his hands into his pants pockets. “It wasn’t m–much longer after that I decided I’d had enough; but, that was also the night Dad finally snapped and…” He sighed and glanced at the carpeted floor. “We lost Mom.”

Ace winced at the news. “Oh, James…”

“They locked Dad up, convicted him of murder, and then he was gone too.”

His body slumped forward and he shut his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” As much as disagreed with everything Calder had done in his final years, Ace was disconcerted to imagine him being executed.

His older brother simply shrugged somberly.

When he could reopen his eyes, Ace kept his gaze to the floor. “I got worried when I went back to the house a few years later and it was vacant.” He shook his head and crossed his arms tight against his chest. “I was worried something had happened to you, too.”

A peculiar expression spread to James’ face. “I got sent to Aunt Catherine’s out in Fairfield.”

“Aunt Catherine? Ugh,” Ace groaned exaggeratedly.

“Okay–we–we gave her a hard time as kids, but she really stepped up when I mm–showed up on her doorstep. She took care of me as best as she could until I could be out on my own. She talked me through the abuse; helped me realize I did not need to blame m-m–myself,” he cleared his throat.

Ace blinked. “You blamed yourself?” He was so taken aback, the words barely escaped his lips.

James shrugged again, repositioning his footing. “I mean–I was supposed to be able to protect her. I should have. And the second I tried to run away…”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that now,” James refocused on Ace, “but, it was hard to get past.”

Ace nodded and returned his eyes to the ground.

“Anyway, Aunt Catherine even found someone to help with my stammer.”

“That is cool; I noticed you’re talking clearer now. Maybe I’ll reconsider,” he added with a smirk.

“Though, I often asked her if we could try to find you so we could be a family again, but she didn’t think you’d still be alive, so… that didn’t go very far. I tried to come out here sooner, but I had a lot to get done in Fairfield before I could make the move. And, in the two years I’ve been here, I’ve been even more busy.”

Ace’s initial sarcasm warmed into a smile. “Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t run into you sooner; although, I guess I’ve spent a lot of the last two years in Kalgara.” He shook his head, his smile breaking toothily. “It’s funny, but also sad that we’ve both been worried about each other, but had no way of finding each other.”

James nodded, also smiling. “And, at last, here we are.”

Ace straightened his back. “Yeah–we’ve gone from putting on plays in our bedroom to standing in a theater you own!”

Both glanced upward at the underside of the balcony above them. Patches of new stucco were splotched across it and most of the walls. Rows of seats stood like a battalion marching toward the stage–though closer inspection proved many were worse for wear. Even the floor was stripped of its old carpet that once lined each of the two aisles, but new rolls rested in neat bundles at the foot of the stage. The stage itself was still dark, but new curtains now hung from the tall proscenium.

Still, the elegance of the theater was difficult to hide. Beyond the patches and in-progress repairs, the glamor of the old paint and the intricate carvings of the proscenium’s molding proved the theater was once a glamorous piece of architecture.

Ace opened his arms wide as he took it all in. “This is insane, James. How in the heck did you get a theater??”

“I mm–worked my way up.” He stepped up next to him. “I started at a dumpy tavern bussing tables, moved up to be the manager, then bought the place for myself. I made the place look nicer–then sold it. Then… I did that a few more times until I moved here and bought the tavern next door–”

“You own the tavern next door too??” Ace gaped.

“That’s how I got the funding to buy this place.”

He shook his head. “And here, I spent years wasting my money playing cards…”

“I n–noticed you kept your nickname,” it was James’ turn to smirk, “Ace.”

“But, of course,” Ace crossed his arms. “I'm honestly a little disappointed you don’t go by Jack.”

James chewed his lip. “I’ll admit, I used the name once or twice for different occasions.”

“Jack Harley?” Ace grinned.

His brother’s dark eyes narrowed. “Jack Gallagher.”

“You’re joking!”

“Not at all.”

He shook his head. “Gosh, if anyone deserves to be a Gallagher, it’s you.”

James chuckled before again growing somber. “I don’t blame you for–mm–taking a different surname after all that happened.”

“Well, legally, it’s still Harley,” Ace brushed it off, before he found himself losing his focus. “I actually did meet my birth mom after I left. I got to know her some; but she passed away four years ago.”

“Oh, I’m s… sorry,” James grew concerned, his brows furrowed under floppy black hair. “But I’m grateful you found her.”

“Me too.”

The brothers’ eyes began to wander through the room along with the thoughts in their minds. Ace’s attention ended up back on his brother, still dumbfounded to be in his presence after years of separation.

James, however, was staring back out into the lobby. “I have a question for you,” he said simply, eyes still turned away.

“Hit me.”

The elder brother waved for Ace to follow, and the younger stayed close behind as they returned to the light of the lobby and entered the office on their right. The smaller space, while intact, was full of paperwork, paint buckets, and spare wood planks leaning against three of the four walls. Despite this, James immediately picked up one of the papers and held it in his hands.

“Something I’ve–ve–b…” He cleared his throat and glanced upward a moment. “All the other places I’ve bought weren’t worth a lot, and there was enough personnel to take over if something happened to me. But the theater… it’s pretty much just me and a few folks I’ve hired to help rebuild so far.”

“Yeah,” Ace nodded.

“I really w-want a co-owner,” James continued, again looking at the paper in his hand. “And while I’ve considered Aunt Catherine–”

“Aunt Catherine?” Ace mimicked his earlier delivery with a smirk.

“She was the only family I had left,” James leaned on one of his feet, “until today, when I found my brother again.”

Ace managed a smile before both the color and the expression drained from his face. “Woah,” he held up his hands. “Hold on a second–”

“Let me finish,” James interrupted, waving the paper at him.

“No, but really–”

“Mm–Ace!” James broke into an exasperated smile. “I want you to be the co-owner.”

“What??” Ace was half-laughing. “You find me, and just… give me half a theater?”

James provided a matter-of-fact look in return.

Ace set his hands on his hips. “You haven’t seen me in years! You don’t even know if I’ve picked up any bad habits,” he ribbed him. “You don’t know anything about my money sense–or lack thereof.”

He shrugged. “I don’t need to. You’re my brother.”

“And you are very trusting.”

“Yep.”

Ace grinned and shook his head at the floor. “I’m honored, James. Shocked,” he glanced up, “but honored.”

“You don’t have to–to sign it today,” he waved the paper before setting it back on his desk. “Talk to your wife first.”

“Probably a good idea,” he laughed. “But seriously; thanks.”

“Thank you,” James turned back to him, his hands in his pockets. “I f–fin–nn,” he again cleared his throat. “I’m glad I found you, ‘cause I really didn’t want to ask Aunt Catherine.”

The brothers broke into laughter, rousing a feeling both had not experienced since the day Ace had run away from home. It was both joyful and nostalgic, carrying them both from the struggles of their childhood and into their present.

“Oh, man,” Ace concluded, leaning against the wall in James’ office. “This is definitely not where I was expecting this day to go,” he glanced at James, “but I’m very glad it did.”

“Me too,” James nodded in agreement.

Ace steepled his gloved fingers. “But, despite the recent development, are you still needing someone to play here once the place is up and running? Because I could always use the extra coins.”

James huffed out a laugh. “I–I th-think that can still be arranged,” he spoke as clearly as he could through his chuckling.