Wild Cards

“All right, lady, let’s go.” The other security guard, whose nameplate said H. BERBELIA, reached for her arm.

Before Jade Blossom could respond, Cesar pushed the much larger Berbelia. He barely had an effect, but in return, Berbelia shoved Cesar back two steps. “Out, kid.”

Jade Blossom stabbed her aluminum-hard thumb into Berbelia’s solar plexus and spoke in a harsh whisper. “You’re pushing around a high school boy? Are you going to shove me? The featured guest at this event?”

“Jade Blossom!” Dr. Smith called out. “I’m asking you to leave the premises for good. Cesar, come with me!”

Jade Blossom pushed past Dr. Smith and Cesar hurried to keep up with her.

“Jade Blossom!” Dr. Smith shouted. “This is unacceptable!”

With her signature catwalk pout, Jade Blossom led Cesar out. “Let’s find a bar.” She reduced her density to normal.

“I’m too young to drink.”

“Then a restaurant where I can get a drink.” She slowed enough for him to come up alongside her and then took his arm. “Dude, lead the way.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Protesters out on the sidewalk shouted as they waved their signs: “Jokers no joke! Jokers no joke!”

Members of the news media were asking them questions, snapping photos, and taking video. “There’s Jade Blossom again!” One guy swung his video camera toward her. A man wearing a sidearm eyed Jade Blossom closely and shouted, “Aces ain’t no joke, either!”

She had passed them on her way inside but had taken no notice. “Cesar, who the hell are they?”

“They’re from Purity Baptist Church,” said Cesar. “I gotta admit, jokers kinda give me the creeps.”

“Keep walking, damn it.” Jade Blossom didn’t like jokers either. They reminded her of what she might have become. She had majored in microbiology at UCLA to learn about the wild card virus, and she understood how arbitrary its effects could be. “I heard something about them on my way in.”

“Aces no joke!” the protesters shouted. “Aces no joke!”

Jade Blossom spotted Elaine, visibly anguished, waiting off to one side with Ethan. He had engaged a chauffeured limousine for her use during this appearance and now watched her warily. She decided they looked constipated.

“Elaine! Get in the limo and follow us!” Elaine, whose rust-colored hair was tossing in the breeze, waved acknowledgment.

Jade Blossom felt that breeze fluttering the long skirt around her legs. “I’m going to keep hold of your arm, but if you feel me slipping, grab on tight.” She reduced her density to the lightest feathery seed bloom.

“What?” Cesar stared up at her.

Because Cesar was in direct contact with her, his density was also reducing. Jade Blossom swept up her free arm and, as she began to lift from the ground, she gave her legs a little kick. Cesar came up with her.

“Cool,” Cesar muttered, looking down.

“Just don’t lose contact with me or you’ll fall,” said Jade Blossom, as they gradually gained altitude.

“You can swoop down and catch me.”

“I can’t fly, you idiot! We’re drifting on the breeze, updrafts, whatever air movement I can find.”

“Oh.”

“So if we let go, you’ll switch back to your normal self and go splat on the pavement.”

Traffic raced along the street beneath them and Jade Blossom knew the pressure wave in front of moving vehicles pushed air upward as well as sideways. She caught more of the air and took Cesar forward about twenty feet above the ground. Below them, pedestrians were staring. “Pick a place, kid,” Jade Blossom said.

“I’m from Seattle!”

“Look anyway!”

Eventually they spied an upscale tavern and Jade Blossom brought them down gently on the sidewalk, increasing her density, and his, back to normal. She let her knees bend slightly and found her footing even on her Jimmy Choo sandals.

Cesar stumbled backward, lost his hold on her, and landed on his butt. “Shit.”

Ignoring him, Jade Blossom strode inside, her silken gown swaying around her long legs. The bar was airy, with a vaulted ceiling and exposed rafters of unvarnished wood. Brick walls, painted a sand color, stood at each end, and the wooden tables and chairs matched the walls. Three-foot potted plants gave the place some greenery. Easy-listening instrumental music played faintly from overhead speakers. In the center, an internal pavilion was surrounded by a three-foot wooden railing.

As Cesar hurried after her, she asked to be seated in the pavilion. It contained a table for six on a raised platform that probably doubled for musical performers. The aroma of sizzling burgers drifted from the kitchen.

Elaine came clattering inside from the limo with Ethan and up onto the platform. She turned two of the chairs to face outward in front of the steps that led to a break in the wall.

Without acknowledging her, Jade Blossom sat down in one chair, crossing her legs so that the colorful split satin gown fell away nearly up to her hips. She patted the other chair without looking and Cesar got the message to join her.

“Elaine, bring me a strawberry margarita and an iced tea for Cesar.”

“Hey, this is a special occasion—” Cesar stopped when Jade Blossom turned her palm out and stuck it in front of his face.

“Got it.” Elaine hurried off just as reporters and camera crews from the protest outside the hotel rushed into the bar. They set up just in front of Jade Blossom, as she had expected, below the dais.

Ethan stepped in front of Jade Blossom, this time at a safe distance. “I’m horrified by your behavior. The studio will hear about this. I think your role in the film may be at risk. You can’t stop me from speaking up.”

“You’re blocking the cameras, asshole.” She waved for him to move away.

Ethan strode away, pulling out his phone.

“Aren’t you worried about what he said?” Cesar asked in awe.

“Worried? Not about that little pussy.”

As photographers snapped stills and news crews took video, Jade Blossom turned to Cesar. “God, I hate that easy-listening shit. Well, then. How did I get stuck with you?”

He gave a nervous laugh. “Uh, I wrote this essay.”

“On being a Chao? Is that why they picked you? Why didn’t I get a Jones or Hernandez? Is that how they matched us up?”

“I wrote about ‘What Jazz Means to Me.’”

“It means you get to be my date.” She accepted her margarita from a server and sipped it, enjoying the salt, the sweet strawberry, and the cold tequila. “What did your essay say?”

“I said my favorite album is Bitches Brew by Miles Davis and explained why.”