Born to Run (38 page)

The jeweler seemed confused by the question.

Jack said, "My father asked me to come by and pick up his Christmas present to her."

The jeweler smiled, as if suddenly realizing what was going on. "Same old Harry the jokester," she said, shaking her head. "I think you'd better read the card."

Jack took the envelope and tore it open. "I'm not good at surprises," the card read, "but I think I got you this time. Give this ring to someone you love as much as I loved your mother. Happy 40th birthday."

Jack felt tingles, even if his fortieth had passed two weeks earlier. Still, it was an incredibly sentimental, un-Swyteck gesture coming from his father. A little pushy too, actually. Jack and Andie hadn't even broached the subject of marriage, but it seemed that Harry was weighing in with his two cents: Approved.

The jeweler put the ring back inside the box, no charge for the cleaning. Jack thanked her, went to the sorry rental car that had replaced another polished old gem--his 1968 Mustang, now junk--and headed for Coconut Grove to meet Andie.

Maybe it had been Harry's plan, or maybe it was the thought of being forty, but the ring got Jack to thinking. Andie Henning was unlike any other woman he'd known, a self-assured thrill seeker who liked to push life to the edge and lean over. Jack loved that she wasn't afraid to cave dive in Florida's aquifer, that in her training at the FBI Academy she'd nailed a perfect score on one of the toughest shooting ranges in the world, that as a teenager she'd been a Junior Olympic mogul skier--something Jack didn't even know about her until she rolled him out of bed one hot August morning and said, "Let's go skiing in Argentina." He loved the green eyes she'd gotten from her father, the raven-black hair from her mother--and he loved that beneath the outward beauty, there was an intelligent and intriguing half-Native American who ha d b een adopted into a totally Anglo world and who was as thirsty for knowledge about her own cultural identity as Jack was about his half-Latin heritage.

His cell rang. It was Andie.

"Change of plans," she said. "Meet me at Cy's."

Cy's Place was special in Jacks book, and the grand opening had proved to be the night that everything clicked for Jack and Andie. The two of them had talked and laughed till 2:00 A
. M
., listening to Theo's uncle Cy give them a taste of Miami's old Overtown Village through his saxophone.

"See you in five minutes," Jack told her.

He arrived even sooner, but it took another five minutes in the parking lot to decide what to do with the diamond ring-- hide it in the car or bring it inside with him. Car break-ins were rampant around the holidays, and the thought of his mother's engagement ring ending up in some pawnshop was too much to stomach. The box was too big for his pocket, so he removed the ring and put it in his pocket--promising himself that, no matter how much tequila he drank, the ring would not see the light of Cy's Place. Jack took the rear entrance through the kitchen and continued into the bar, where he was immediately greeted by a roaring "Surprise!"

Andie threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Happy birthday, old man," she said.

Jack smiled, but he wasn't really surprised, even if it was more than two weeks after his actual birthday. Telling Andie not to throw him a party had been the surest way to get one. It was wall
-
to-wall memories as Jack embraced one old friend after another-- Theo, who gave him a spine-cracking hug; Uncle Cy, dressed in his vintage natty tweeds; Neil Goderich, his first boss at the Freedom Institute; and on and on.

The longest hug, however, was for Abuela.

She tried to whisper something to him, but the emotions choked her. As much as Jack resembled his mother, his fortieth-birthday celebration was at least on some level a tough reminder of how long it had been since Abuela and her daughter had said good-bye.

"Drinks are on Jack!" shouted Theo.

Cocktails were flowing all around the big U-shaped bar, and Cy's Place was oozing that certain vibe of a jazz-loving crowd. Creaky wood floors, redbrick walls, and high ceilings were the perfect bones for Theo's club. Art nouveau chandeliers cast just the right mood lighting. Crowded cafe tables fronted a small stage for live music. The hand-painted banner hanging from the ceiling, however, was a bit puzzling: HAPPY SECOND ANNIVERSARY!

"Second anniversary of what?" said Jack.

"Your thirty-ninth birthday," said Theo as he filled two shot glasses with his best tequila ahejo. "Cheers, dude."

Jack belted back one with him, and then Andie intervened, promising to make it well worth his while if he remained conscious tonight. Theo talked him into one more when Andie wasn't looking, but Mexican brain-blaster number two put Jack in a serious, reflective mood.

"What are you thinking?" said Andie, as she returned to the bar stool beside him.

"Forty has been a pretty wild ride so far."

"You can say that again."

Theo came over in need of quarters for the pool table. "Dude, got any coin?"

Jack glanced at the cash register behind Theo's bar, but the point seemed too obvious to make. He emptied his pockets onto the bar top. The engagement ring poured out with his loose change, the diamond sparkling beneath the white LED lights. The sight of it nearly stopped Jack's heart, and he snatched it up. Theo grabbed the coins and, as he walked away, Jack buried the ring back in his pocket.

"What was that?" said Andie.

"What was what?"

She smiled. "That sparkly thing you just shoved back into your pocket."

"I didn't just shove any sparkly thing back into my pocket "

Her smile turned seductive, and with an inquisitive tilt of her head a wisp of long dark hair fell into her eyes the way Jack found irresistible.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I see it?"

"Nothing to see. Really."

"I want to see."

She reached for his pocket.

He grabbed her wrist.

She grabbed his elbow. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to let me see? Or am I going to have to break your arm?"

"I--uhm . . ."

A saxophone bellowed, and Jack turned to see Theo coming toward him, his uncle's old Buescher 400 in hand. A jazz solo quickly morphed into his rendition of "Happy Birthday." The crowd began to sing, and suddenly Andie was leading Jack around the bar to a big cake with forty blazing candles.

" . . . happy birthday, dear Ja-ack . .

Andie came close and put her lips to his ear. "Come on, Swyteck. Just let me see it."

"Happy birthday to youuuu!"