LARGETONY Blog

Sam and Jack were best buds. They did practically everything together. They talked alike. They dressed in the same colors. They went to each others parties. They were tight. They were pretty much inseparable at “The Orb,” a nightclub where they hung out.

As much as Sam and Jack were alike, they were easy to tell apart. Jack was the one with the quiet manner. The one with the quiet pride. Coming from a line of aristocrats that could fill an encyclopedia (and did) he was always a bit formal. Sam was loud and flashy, definitely the alpha dog in their circles. He was the man at The Orb, always seated at the best table. He was rich, successful and handsome. And, some would add, cocky. Maybe he was. It may have been because of his successes…or, perhaps, his successes were because of it. But the differences made no difference to Sam and Jack. No doubt about it, they were tight.

Now, people who kept up with such things knew that their grandfathers had some battles long ago. It all started when Sam’s grandpa decided he didn’t like how Jack’s grandpa pretty much held sway over “The Orb.” The elder Jack’s influence was far reaching, setting an unwritten code of conduct all around the club. But Grandpa Sam didn’t like his cousin (yeah, Sam and Jack were related a few generations back) telling him how to entertain at his own table, so he threw a party and declared a split.

No one had ever challenged the elder Jack before. There was hardly a table in the club that didn’t bow to him. He felt betrayed by Grampa Sam. After all, hadn’t he moved that guy they called “Red” (they never bothered to learn his name) to the corner of the big booth to give Grampa Sam the better view of the floor show? But Grampa Sam would rather die than be told what to do, and tensions ran high for a while. In the end, Old Jack didn’t fair so well in the skirmish and began to lose his grip on The Orb.

But, by the next generation, Papa Jack had made his peace with the earlier war, and Daddy Sam…well, he celebrated it. But they were on better terms than their fathers had been, and the bond between the Sams and the Jacks was never stronger. It was more than just friendship. It was devotion. If somebody messed with one of them, they messed with both of them. That had each other’s back.

By this time everybody at The Orb pretty much partied they way they wanted. Live and let live, so to speak. Sure, each table had its own little bickerings among its occupants, but the other tables didn’t get involved…until a fella named Jerry started picking on others. You see, Jerry was a bully. A tiny man with a funny mustache and a taste for blonds. Jerry tried to to take over The Orb once, but Daddy Sam, Papa Jack, and a couple of their buddies took care of Jerry good. No one knows exactly what happened to Jerry. Some say that was his body in the basement. But no one really knows.

Sam sort of became a hero from the way he handled Jerry. His popularity soared. He was the golden son of The Orb. Patrons made their way from the far corners just to sit at his table. Folks knew that if they needed something, they could count on Sam. And Sam loved being the “go-to” guy. Sometimes it could get him in trouble, especially when he nosed in where he didn’t belong. There were times when he found himself embarrassed when people warned him to stay out of it.

Over time, Sam’s arrogance (Jack liked to call it hubris) started turning people off. He was still the king at The Orb, but many were growing weary of his hotshot attitude. The word was that some were out to get him. Sam really didn’t give it a worry. He saw himself as untouchable. Who would mess with him?

So, Sam didn’t see it coming when he got jumped by Prince, a tall, skinny thug who packed quite a punch. Prince kept a distance from the crowd, slipping in and out of the shadows, occasionally sending a message through the waiters he paid off. No one paid much attention to Prince. But after he devastated Sam, Prince was a name on everybody’s lips. Orb patrons stood in disbelief at the beating Sam took. They knew that if it happened to Sam, it could happen to them, too. People were scared. Filled with terror.

Sam vowed to get Prince, but the goon was elusive, tucking himself away in nooks and crannies, still sending out his warnings. Sam sat at his table with egg on his face, unable to bring about justice. He needed to send his own message. He needed to save face and divert attention from his failure. Sam decided to go after Ace.

Ace was a sinister hoodlum with his own table, where he would regularly get his kicks by inflicting pain others just for sport: putting out a cigarette in someone’s palm; chopping a pinky off another. Rumors were he even scalped an ex-girlfriend by setting a match to her hair. Prince and Ace were thought to be connected, although no one knew for sure. Therefore, Sam reasoned that Ace would be the next to strike and he needed to be stopped before he did.

Sure, nobody liked Ace. He was a horrible beast. But nobody thought Sam had grounds for his assault on Ace. “Hey,” Sam defended, ” I warned him to prove that he wasn’t gonna stomp on me or I would stomp on him.” Backs turned on Sam after that. But not Jack. Ever the buddy, Jack stood by Sam. Jack was even Sam’s wing man in the attack. They took down Ace together.

“Look what I’ve done for you,” Sam boasted to the crowded Orb, “the club is safer place without Ace heading a table.” Still, it was Prince that worried people. “You want to help us out. Get Prince before he gets us.” Every table was convinced that Prince wasn’t stopping with Sam. And they were right. Prince wasn’t just after Sam, he was also after Sam’s friends.

It started out a happy day for Jack. He was planning a party for everybody at The Orb. It’s was still a long way off, but he finally had the wheels in motion. Focused on the big event, he never saw it coming. Prince struck again. But this time it was Jack. Shock went through The Orb and the wave of fear began its cycle again.

Concern went out for Jack as he recovered from the ambush, but like his ancestors, Jack had a facility for keeping a stiff upper lip and remaining resolute. His father had gone through worse, and like his father, he’d get through it with his buddy Sam. But this time Sam distanced himself from Jack’s table, laying low, more concerned about his own safety.

There’s no end to this tale. As the sun rises and sets, as the pages of the calendar turn, it continues to write itself. But perhaps at this tick of the clock Jack has learned that just cause you get somebody’s back doesn’t mean they’re going to “get your back” back.

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 14th, 2005 at 12:40 am and is filed under stories, topical. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.