Last Call

Theo tried not to dwell on any of it. Two o'clock Thursday afternoon, however, brought a flash of renewed anger and a mix of other emotions that he didn't fully understand. According to the newspaper, 2:00 p.m. was the scheduled time for Redden's graveside service. "Family only." Family.

Before the burial, Jack had offered to try and get a court-ordered DNA test.

Theo didn't want to know.

Theo had heard before that he was of mixed ancestry, though usually it was said tongue in cheek. When he was on death row, a Native American inmate told him he looked part Miccosukee, which earned him the prison-lawyer nickname "Chief Brief." With a name like Theodopolis, people said he must be part Greek – which now seemed like an ironic ode to his apparent place of conception.

Theo still had his doubts about Fernando Redden being his father. It wasn't exactly a comforting thought, but simply because Portia was raped on film by one frat boy didn't rule out the possibility of another partner that night. She could have been raped again by someone off-camera. She could have had consensual sex earlier that night, that day, that week, that month. Theo liked the latter alternative best. That was the one he would cling to.

Three weeks had passed since the shooting, and it still felt too soon to be celebrating in any way. But Theo had a business to run at Sparky's, the rent still had to be paid on the new property, and it was time to open his real jazz bar.

"Place looks amazing," said Jack.

It was early Friday evening, and Theo was on the working side of the bar, mixing a pitcher of martinis. For the past two hours, he'd been so busy greeting guests and putting out fires that he hadn't taken the time to look around. Weeks of preparation and hard work had helped take Theo's mind off Moses and Fernando Redden. Everything from cleaning, painting, and decorating to creating a menu, stocking the bar and kitchen, hiring and training the staff, and booking live entertainment – it was finally paying dividends. The U-shaped bar was killer. The lighting was just right. The twenty small cafe tables – the exact number Uncle Cy had recommended – were all taken. The doors were open, and people came. Not just loyal friends. Theo could feel it in the air, and it made his heart swell: he was tapping into the true jazz-lover crowd.

"Want to invest?" said Theo.

"Hmmm," said Jack, as he scratched his head. "Let me think about that. You and me, business partners? I'd say that has about as much chance as-"

"You picking up the phone and asking Andie on a date?"

"I told you I was going to call her."

"And by the time you do, we'll all be playing shuffleboard."

"Look, last time we started dating too soon after the Salazar kidnapping. This time I'm just putting a little distance between the gunfire and the sparks flying, so to speak."

"Well, I invited her tonight. She and Trina are bringing Cy. You got a problem with that?"

Jack tried his martini. He seemed to approve. "I think that's a great idea. Timing's good, too. Rene and I are definitely history."

"I'd say so. What's it been, a month?"

"Actually, she finally called me. Yesterday."

Theo dropped a rack of olives in Jack's drink. "Really? What took her so long this time? Famine? Tsunami? Swarming locusts?"

"Fear," said Jack.

"Of what?"

"She sensed some chemistry between Andie and me while she was here. Once she got back to Africa, she worked up this fear that I was going to tell her not to come to Miami anymore. That's why she didn't call."

Theo leaned toward him, forearms atop the bar, speaking in an even tone. "That is a colossal pile of crap. You know that, don't your

"Maybe." Jack went back to his martini and adjusted his response: "Definitely."

"Good thing," he said, glancing toward the rear entrance. "Because the world's most unlikely menage a trois has just arrived."

The women were dressed to turn heads, but Theo's gaze fixed on his uncle. Cy had Trina on one arm, Andie on the other, and a huge smile on his face. Of course he was wearing his three-piece Norfolk suit in natty vintage tweeds, as if it were 1956 and he still ruled the Cotton Club, the Knight Beat, and every other famous old jazz club in Overtown. He reached over the bar and gave Theo a huge hug.

"Proud a' you, boy," he said.

The words meant the world to Theo, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to contain the emotion. "Thanks, old man."

Theo broke the embrace, and Trina leaned over to give him a kiss. That left Jack and Andie as the awkward spectators for a moment.

"You look amazing," Jack told her.

"Keen grasp of the obvious there," said Theo." Siddown, everyone. Got a couple of surprises pla

Jack offered Andie the stool on his right. Uncle Cy and Trina took the ones on his left. Theo poured martinis for each of them. Then he pulled a tobacco tin from under the counter and placed it on the bar in front of them. It was the fourteen-ounce cylinder, bright red with a white-and-black painted label.

Trina was the first to smile. "Prince Albert/' she said, reading the brand name.

"I'm a man of my word," said Theo. "Sort of."

"Pipe tobacco? That's not much better than a roach brooch, bucko."

Just open it.

She twisted off the lid, and her eyes lit up. "Oh my god! These are amazing!"

Theo said, "Happy belated birthday."

Trina reached inside and removed the diamond earrings. She kissed him and immediately put them on, then stood and checked herself in the big mirror behind the bar. They were shaped like little saxophones.

"Gorgeous," said Andie.

"The earrings aren't bad either," said Cy

Theo chuckled and said, "Now it's time for your surprise, old man."

"Me? Isn't all of this surprise enough?"

Theo smiled thinly. "Follow me." He stepped out from behind the bar and took Cy by the arm. The others remained seated, knowing that this was about family. Theo led his uncle all the way to the front entrance.

"We can't be leavin', are we?" said Cy, as Theo escorted him outside.

Theo didn't answer. He took his uncle across the sidewalk and didn't stop until they reached the other side of the street. Then Theo squared him around to face the club, offering a view of the main entrance that Trina had denied him by bringing him in through the back door.

The lighted sign above the canopy said it all: Cy's Place.

Cy didn't speak. Slowly he raised his hands, shaping the left one into an L and the right into a backward L, framing Cy's Place like a movie director. Theo noticed that his hands were shaking.

"We put it up this afternoon," said Theo. "You like?"

The old man swallowed the lump in his throat. "Don't know what to say. Don't deserve this. Really."

"You want me to take it down?"

Cy pulled himself together and shot Theo a look that said, "You crazy boy?"

"I didn't think so," said Theo.

He let his uncle enjoy the moment, but Cy probably would have stood there all night, had Theo let him. "Come on," said Theo. "Let's go back inside."

Side-by-side, they crossed the street. Cy stole one last glimpse at the sign as Theo pushed through the front door. Trina hugged and congratulated him back at the bar. Jack and Andie were in a heated discussion that bordered on a flat-out argument as to whether the world's first martini was actually called a martinez, whether it was made with London Dry or Old Tom gin, and whether it came with an olive or a cherry. It was nice to see them getting along as per usual. Theo broke it up before someone got injured, and they all raised a glass and drank to Cy's Place.

Theo gave the old man another hug. "Now you gotta do me a favor."

"Name it," he said.

Theo reached under the bar again. This time, he pulled up the old Buescher 400 saxophone that Cy had passed down to him years earlier.