J. Rain - Hail Mary

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He sipped some of his coffee. “It is dangerous ground, Jim, when others determine what is right.”

Somehow I knew he would say this. “So it is up to the individual to define what is right?”

“ Always.”

“ But what if their right is wrong?”

“ Then who’s to determine what is right or wrong?”

“ You, of course,” I said.

He looked up at me. Steam from his coffee made some of the dirt on his jaw waver a little. “I know you, Jim. You do not react well when someone tells you to do something.”

“ I follow the laws of the land,” I said. “For the most part.”

“ Do you agree with the laws?”

I shrugged. “Most.”

“ And what would happen if you didn’t agree with what I determined was right or wrong?”

“ I would say, who am I to question God?”

“ But I want you to question God, Jim. I want you to question everything.”

“ Why?”

“ Because the answers you receive will define who you are, and how you will live, and how you will treat others.”

“ But not everybody will come up with the same answers.”

“ That’s the point, Jim.”

“ So there are no wrong answers?”

“ None.”

“ But what if my answers hurt others?”

Jack sat back and held his coffee in both hands. His hands, I saw, were filthy. There was even dirt caked under his nails. God had dirt under his nails?

“ Hurting others is a delicate business, Jim.”

“ What do you mean, exactly?”

“ Quite simply: do what you want to yourself. But the moment you cause harm to another-or discord of any type-you will need to reestablish a balance.”

I was about to stuff some fries in my mouth. I paused about an inch or two away from my mouth. “What, exactly, does that mean?”

“ It means there’s a cause and effect in place, or a law of compensation.”

“ You’re talking about karma,” I said.

“ Yes,” he said, smiling at me. He always smiled. “Karma is another word for it.”

“ Most people believe karma is a load of crap.”

“ Karma works whether one believes it’s a load of crap or not.”

Now I smiled at hearing Jack say the word crap. “Kind of like the Law of Attraction.”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s always working. Always in place. Remember, every experience in life has a former cause. And every current experience will result in a future cause. I do not tell people how to live, but causing harm to another, or discord of any type, will be returned to you. It must be.”

“ To re-establish a balance,” I said.

He nodded. “Right. One must experience what one causes another to experience.”

“ Why?”

“ It is the only way to true growth, Jim. Everyone must eventually understand what the effect of his own creation is upon the rest of the life in your world.”

“ You said life,” I said. “You did not just say people.”

“ Indeed,” he said.

“ So if one causes harm to another living creature…”

“ One is compelled to understand the effects of his harm…even on animals.”

“ Who compels?” I asked.

He smiled again. “The laws of the Universe, Jim.”

“ And who put these laws into place?”

“ Perhaps,” he said, winking. “That can be a question for another time.”

Chapter Thirty-four

I was in my office with Junior when the phone rang.

He was lying on a doggie bed near my chair. Now that he had come out of the closet, he didn’t want to leave my side. I didn’t blame him. Being by my side was a good place to be.

Junior jumped at the sound, and then settled down again. His paws were healing. Only a slight discoloration now showed in the fur. I had spent the bulk of my morning sitting by the doggie bed and brushing out his fur, although sometimes I had to cut the knots out, too. He was a true ragamuffin. Part poodle, part long-haired terrier, part anything mangy and not very cute.

Except, to me, he was cute as can be.

I picked up the phone on the third ring. “Knighthorse.”

“ Is this Jim Knighthorse?”

“ Would be a hell of a coincidence.”

“ Yeah, right.” There was a pause. The guy on the phone was young, maybe twenty. Sounded like a surfer dude. “I, um, have one of your flyers.”

I sat up a little. “What about it?”

“ Look, I have some information about Mitch Golden. But no cops, okay?”

“ Okay.”

“ Are you free now?” he asked.

“ As a bird,” I said, and we made arrangements over the phone where to meet. When we hung up, I looked down at Junior. “You up for a road trip?”

With Junior waiting in the van’s front seat, surrounded by treats and chew toys, I met Ryan Wiseman in a trendy bar in Costa Mesa. By trendy, I meant uncomfortable and not very cozy. From the metal counter down to the backless stools. I mean, give a brother something to lean on. After all, something has to keep the drunks upright. Anyway, the floor was wood, which was okay, but I wasn’t sure about the ladder that reached up to the more expensive drinks high above the bar. A ladder? If I want a drink, I want it now. I don’t want to wait for some goofball to climb up and down a ladder.

“ Great bar, huh?” said Ryan. Ryan was a little older than I had pictured. He was maybe thirty and sported a long, scraggly goatee that was all kinds of filthy. He wore stained cargo shorts and a stained tee shirt, and it looked like I was picking up the tab. Again.

“ Maybe the greatest ever,” I said.

“ No shit, huh?”

“ No shit.”

Ryan was drinking a dark beer that had about an inch of head still on it. The bartender came by and asked what I wanted and I said a stool with a back on it and he laughed. I didn’t laugh. Since the stool wasn’t going to happen, I ordered a Foster’s because I liked their commercials.

As I ordered, I noticed Ryan looking me over. He nodded, seemingly impressed. “Jesus, you’re huge.”

“ I am huge,” I said. “And don’t call me Jesus.”

He blinked hard, and his goatee quivered. Hell of a blink. Then he started nodding and his goatee flapped in nine different directions. “I get it. From Airplane. Man, I love that movie.”

My beer came and I took a healthy pull from it. This was beginning to feel like a bad date. A mandate. Time to get to business.

“ You called me about the flyer,” I said, and I was beginning to wonder if the guy was just here for the free beer.

Ryan nodded eagerly, yet his goatee somehow flapped sideways, which defied logic and gravity. I was certain he was on something. Or maybe his goatee was.

“ Yeah, man. A buddy of mine over at Pipeline had this flyer in his backpack. And I was like…whoa! I know this dude!”

“ How do you know him?”

“ He’s the candy man.”

“ Candy man?”

“ You know…jive sticks.”

“ Jive sticks?”

“ Puff the magic dragon, broheim. The wacky terbacky.”

“ Marijuana,” I said. “You’re saying Mitch was your supplier.”

Now Ryan began shaking his head. “He was more than a supplier, dude bro. He was a man with a vision.”

“ What kind of vision?”

“ The big picture, mister. He didn’t just sell the love weed…he sold dreams.”

“ Sure he did,” I said. “And what’s the big picture?”

“ Life, man. Living. Live and let live. His money didn’t just line his pockets.”

“ Where did it go?”

“ To the cause, boss. Mitch Golden was a good guy, with a big heart. He sold the jolly green to help the little guys.”

“ Little guys?”

“ The animals, man,” he said.

“ Of course,” I said. “How close were you to Mitch?”

“ We were close. We were dude-bros.”

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