Blaze (5 page)

CHAPTER NINE

RAMONA'S DINER, DETROIT, MICHIGAN

B
laze was huckin' fungry. It was rare that he could keep his appetite under reigns past 11 a.m. Especially if he had to do so while conducting a meeting. His stomach was rumbling hard as he and Bernie entered Ramona's diner. The roadside joint was adorned with nostalgic Americana and pop culture posters, tins, and nick knacks. The patrons were salt of the earth for sure. Blaze and Bernie were certainly out of place in their three-piece suits and pea coats. Trucker hats, flannel shirts, big-ass belt buckles, and even sweatpants would have been more fitting. They sat down eager to place their orders. An attractive waitress walked over to their table. She wore a very tight tank top that revealed her belly button ring and showcased the ornate full sleeve tattoo work on her right arm.

Blaze gave the gal his order. “I'll have three eggs over easy with hash browns. Cheese and onions on the hash browns. Wheat toast with that. And black coffee and ice water.”

The waitress nodded and turned to Bernie to begin taking his order until Blaze called out with an additional request. “Oh and also a side of sausage.”

“A side of
what
?”

“Sausage.”
Sasidge
was how he said it
.
It
was a strange northeast slang pronunciation that Blaze could not shake saying for the life of him. He'd picked up the vernacular from his old warrior pal Zack Batt.

“Oh, okay, sausage. Sorry, you said it weird.” The waitress smiled and turned once again to begin getting Bernie's order.

“I'll just have the eggs benedict and some coffee…and your phone number.” The waitress smiled at Bernie and laughed him off. He asked her the same question every time, and by observing how her smile grew warmer upon each attempt, it was reasonable for one to be hopeful that one of these days Bernie would get her digits written on his check.

Blaze felt agitated as his hunger grew. Diem always accused him of being an anxious eater, because the lower his blood sugar got, the more jumpy and irritable he became. In such a state, he often rebelled against his late grandfather's policy of dining vs. shoveling. Shoveling was entirely inevitable for Blaze in such states of hunger.

Finally, the food came. Blaze began digging in immediately like a starved Viking famished from a hard fought battle. Bernie paused first to admire the rear view of the waitress as she left their table, and then he dug in.

After his initial hunger pains were relieved, Blaze began to speak. “I'm glad that case finally closed. Great guy, and I respect the due diligence he put into it, but it sure did seem to take forever.”

“For sure. A boost like that will certainly help our numbers, and the plan will really help him keep Uncle Sam away going forward. I dunno though, I don't think I can handle any more speeches on the coming global financial collapse when it comes time to do our first quarterly review with him. I just don't understand that kind of paranoid mindset.” Bernie was not prone to imaginative negativity about the future. He didn't lean to any extremes that Blaze could identify.

Bernie Miller was, above all else, a self-described pragmatist when it came to financial matters. He had described himself to Blaze as being a social liberal and a fiscal conservative. He usually voted Democrat but often vocally criticized the party for promoting loose fiscal policy.

In terms of his personal finances, Bernie had done remarkably well in his eighteen-year career as a financial advisor. He had acquired substantial wealth spread decisively and prudently across many asset classes. But you'd never know it if you saw him driving up to a cheap restaurant in his beat up Ford escort. You'd know it less after seeing him emerge from that vehicle with his hand feverishly digging into his cheap suit pocket to fetch a buy-one-get-one-free coupon. All for a meal he'd write off anyhow.

This, of course, was the key to his success in many ways. Frugality was one thing, but Bernie's brand was unparalleled. Blaze wondered if he ever even enjoyed what he had earned. He worried that Bernie's focus on preserving and growing his wealth superseded any impulse to loosen his belt and lighten up on even the most benign spending indulgence. This personality trait, which on the surface was admirable and worthy of emulating, seemed to be, beneath the surface, a restrictive characteristic. Blaze suspected that it might impede Bernie emotionally in his relationships. Partly an overreaction to the spendthrift habits of his whimsical ex-wife, and partly just the way he was naturally wired, his scrooge-like attitude was deep and penetrating.

“Frank's a tad paranoid, but he's right about a lot of things. The signs are everywhere. I don't know if it'll all play out exactly the way he describes, but there are definitely some bad things looming.” Blaze dipped his toast into the runny yoke of his eggs and waited for Bernie to respond.

“What? Are you one of those whacko doom and gloomers now? C'mon, all you need to do is take a rational and objective look at the history of the market, the history of the country, and the history of the ebb and flow of the economy, and you'll see that all these things go in cycles. We're just riding out a particularly prolonged downturn that has been exacerbated by do-good politicians. Their meddling hands have extended the pain. But that don't mean that the pain can't be reversed.” Bernie had no tolerance for alarmists and conspiracy theory psychos.

Blaze was used to hearing Bernie's views on the financial markets. He was also used to finding ways to open up Bernie's perspective a bit. Blaze replied, “I know that your mind works in linear patterns and with the dominance of left-brained deductions. I get it. I know that unseen forces and probabilities don't enter into your mental framework. That's not how you're wired, but…”

“
Linear patterns
? Blaze, I don't even know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Look, you need to understand that there are many factors of the modern age, the global nature of our economy, and the rapidity of the infringement of globalism that make this downturn very, very different from times past. Not to mention the powder keg of radical Islam and the threats it poses to us. We're extremely vulnerable to a perfect storm that could sink the proverbial US ship very quickly if certain things converge simultaneously.” Now Blaze had really poked the bear inside Bernie.

“C'mon.
Globalism
?
Really
?
What does that even mean?
I don't see it. I hear you on radical Islam. That, I get. But this whole dramatic new world order fear? I'm not buying it.” Bernie stuffed a large bite of eggs benedict in his mouth and jammed in some toast as well. He continued his refutation while still chewing. “Look, I believe in God just like anyone else. I know many arrogant Protestants don't think Catholics are really Christian, but I'll have you know that we are.”

Blaze threw his hands in the air in a defensive posture and interrupted, “Bro, I got love for the Catholics as much as anyone else. I dunno what you're talking about.”

Bernie ignored the comment. “Anyway, I know that you got that drunken preacher friend of yours feeding you all of this apocalyptic hogwash. I know how that plays into your vulnerability to believe the worst about the future.”

“You're right about Pastor McCardle, Bernie. He does strongly believe that we're in the end of days and the Holy Spirit is not the only spirit he has a weakness for. I ain't buying all of it yet either, but I do respect him, and I reserve the right to change my mind.”

“Blaze, you need to understand that every time in history when war strikes, or hard economic times emerge, religious people of certain ilk come forth with panic-induced apocalyptic warnings. I just ain't buying it.”

“Dude, stop yelling and eating at the same time. It's frickin' disgusting.”

Bernie's beat went on. “Whatever, I'm gonna keep investing, keep working, and keep living. I ain't gonna take seriously all these fringe conspiracy theories that every superstitious whack job with a blog, a pulpit or a microphone puts forth.” Bernie never minced words with his opinions and he was on a roll with his refutation of Frank's mindset.

Blaze smiled and lowered his voice, in an attempt to lower the temperature of the conversation, as he responded, “I only know so much, and most of that is probably bullshit, but...”

“Now you're being honest.”

“Shut up you wise ass. Look, you ought to adopt a more humble attitude yourself. None of us truly know how the future will unfold. Maybe you should stop focusing so much on money and wealth and get in touch more with your spiritual side. Life is like a blink of the eye when compared to eternity, pally. I learned that well in the Marines and the CIA. I'll never take a day for granted again. Every day is a gift.”

Bernie looked at Blaze as if he was from outer space.

“You gonna finish that frickin' toast or you gonna continue to get sappy with me like the Jesus freak that you are?”

“Jeez, you German bastard. I thought you were a good Catholic? Believing in JC don't make no one freaky.”

“Just give me the toast you ballbreaker. We've got to get back to the office and make some money. The world ain't coming to an end today.”

CHAPTER TEN

CHINA (MEMORIES)

S
he could smell the air—pollution and all—like it was yesterday; the ancient feel of the cities and thunderous awe of the countryside. She had not grown up there, but Diem had felt as if she had. Her multiple visits to China were ever-present in her soul and ubiquitous in the deep enclaves of her heart.

She recalled all the times her grandfather told her stories in Mandarin as he sat rocking back and forth in his chair. She received those stories from him in her youth. Now as an adult, the roaring waves of her imagination had washed those old memories ashore. Visceral, beautiful memories. Now, just the slightest smell of second hand cigarette smoke would take her mind instantly to those story-telling sessions her grandfather weaved so effortlessly while chain smoking in his favorite chair.

As Diem grew up, she knew that her family always held an obvious affinity for many things of the old country. Yet their decision to ultimately come to America was not one that wrought any regret. Instead, they regretted the fact that the reason for their departure—Communism—existed in their beloved country in the first place. She understood the ramifications of all of that, but chose in her adulthood to focus on the preservation of the valuable and noble trimmings and underpinnings of Chinese culture and familial tradition, not the political context surrounding it all.

It was on one afternoon in autumn, after she passed by a man smoking on a park bench, that her mind was carried back in time to her tenth anniversary with Blaze. An anniversary for which Blaze agreed to accompany her to China for a visit with her extended family.

It was Blaze's first time in China, and it was there that Diem saw a side of him that she vowed to capture and foster in him forever. The warrior exterior that Blaze carried with him like a medieval suit of armor was beginning to melt. This exterior enveloped even his most shallow of surface emotions. But it had finally been penetrated when he settled into the Chinese interlude he and Diem shared.

Several days into the trip, Diem had realized that Blaze had not once discussed anything in regard to the realm of his work or any related current events connected to his all-consuming occupation. This had never happened before. His mind was always elsewhere. Usually in places he was not at liberty to share with her. Places he wouldn't burden her with even if he was at liberty. Ten years into their marriage, this phenomenon prompted her to fall more in love with Blaze than ever.

She became hopelessly smitten by the man he became when his professional persona fell away completely. His humor was light and ordinary. He smiled easily and frequently. His step was easier and without tenacious guard. She squeezed his hand tight as they explored the land on long walks. She felt herself behaving like a flirtatious schoolgirl for the first time in years.

When Blaze's mind was free, his guard dismantled, and his soul disarmed, he was downright fun—even boyishly awkward and handsomely clumsy. In those moments, Diem could not imagine him doing the things in the cover of darkness that she was told she wasn't allowed to imagine him doing.

If he only knew the jokes that her relatives were making about the awkward white guy she'd brought over, he'd have been blushing the entire time. This vulnerability was not a trait of a career CIA assassin. His all-consuming professional mission was to jettison vulnerability of all kinds in perpetuity. Diem did not know all the details of his job, but she knew the overarching elements and saw the underlying effects. This knowledge, although only a small taste of the full truth, was almost too much for her to carry.

She had carried this newfound mission, of preserving this side of Blaze, for some time after the trip with a fierce evangelical fervor. Ultimately, Blaze's temperament had been successfully chipped away at by her determined Chinese assertiveness. As Shane and Dennis continued to grow, the leverage was too strong for him to resist. She convinced him that he had a patriarchal duty to resign from his front post at the center of harm's way. In direct opposition to his innate bullheaded Irishness, he eventually hung his hat and had been trying to find his way in the business world ever since.

The truth was, though, that Blaze was not very good at navigating through civilian life and normal working life. It showed clearly in his face and resounded audibly in his voice. Diem was happy he was now safe and home with the boys. But she also knew he was slowly dying inside. She secretly was beginning to understand what he meant when he claimed he was born to be a warrior. She fought the instinct to sympathize with Blaze's desire to go back in the field. She was not quite ready to come to honest grips with that realization.

The boys were still very young and the way Diem saw it, Blaze could keep on dying inside for quite some time before he would need any rescuing. For now, she decided, harm's way was going to have to give way to Diem's way.