Read Ribbons for Free Online

wearing a tie at all, but he was glad he had. Apparently there was a party going on or something. A couple passed him on the sidewalk and climbed the steps up to the large double doors. The man wore a black suit. The woman on his arm was half his age and wore about half as much clothing. Matt chalked that up to being in Las Vegas, but this place wasn’t really near the Strip.
    The Victorian looked out of place, like a forgotten Hollywood set. It contrasted nicely with the barren landscape off in the distance behind it. The double doors were open, and Matt could hear the droning chatter of party guests, punctuated occasionally with bursts of laughter. He started to pull off his sunglasses as he climbed up to the entry, but when his hand brushed his cheek, he winced and remembered the bruise still decorating his eye. Better to leave the glasses in place, but he did make the snap decision to pull the bandage off his nose. The swelling was mostly gone now, and there was hardly any blood when he sneezed.
    There was a kid at the door. He wore a suit, too, and was currently holding up his jacket pocket to get a closer look. He tried to poke a finger inside but frowned when he could only get about half his fingertip in.
    Matt saw the problem. “They sew them closed,” he explained.
    The kid replied without looking up. “Why would they do that?”
    “To keep them looking nice, I guess.”
    “Why bother adding pockets if you can’t use them?”
    “Beats me. They make up for it by adding a secret pocket inside.” Matt patted his chest to show him where.
    “Oh.” The kid looked inside his jacket with renewed interest. “Cool.”
    “Yeah, perfect for your smokes.” Matt winked but forgot he was wearing sunglasses.
    The kid looked Matt over and seemed to make up his mind about something. “We’re closed. There should have been a sign out front.”
    Matt didn’t remember seeing a sign. “What’s going on?”
    The kid was distracted before he could answer. He had a small stack of pamphlets in his hand and stepped forward to offer one to the couple coming up behind Matt.
    He turned back to Matt. “I don’t know if we’re reopening.”
    Matt offered his hand. “I’m Matt.”
    The kid looked at Matt’s hand but didn’t shake it.
    Matt continued to hold it out awkwardly. “Do you know Quentin? I need to talk to him.”
    “Uncle Quent? Sure.”
    The kid put a folded paper in Matt’s outstretched hand. It wasn’t a pamphlet. It was a program.
     
    In Loving Memory of Quentin Bradley James
    Please join us as we celebrate and honor his life.
     
    The flowery script didn’t match the gruff portrait of Uncle Quent, who looked like he was doing his best not be in the picture.
    Matt pulled his sunglasses down and took a better look around. Past the entrance was a small foyer with a staircase to one side. It was full of people wearing black, drinking cocktails, and snacking from little plates of food. By the staircase was a wreath of lilies.
    “Huh, this must be really weird for you,” said the kid. “It’s weird for me, too.”
    “He’s dead?” Matt sounded dubious. “That doesn’t sound like him. Who are all these people?”
    “Mainly people he worked with,” said the kid. “It’s a wake. He didn’t pray much. But he did drink.”
    “Okay, that does sound like him.” Matt turned back to the kid. “Did you know him well?”
    He was handing out another program. “Sure, I had Cheerios with him every day.”
    The kid started walking through the foyer. Matt fell in behind him.
    “You said he was your uncle?” asked Matt.
    “Yeah. But not really. He said I could call him Uncle Quent if I wanted to. It seemed to make him happy.”
    “He was my uncle, too. But for real, I guess.” Matt paused to take a tiny quiche from a silver tray. Then he had to catch up. “We never had Cheerios, though.”
    “He didn’t mention you.”
    “So were he and your Mom . . . lovers?”
    “I’m nine.” The kid stopped