The Art Deco Wake

THE ART DECO WAKE: a decopunk tale of the Brothers Den in the Legacy Universe

"Honest to God. Can't forget the date or time. December the fifth, Nineteen Twenty-Nine, exactly six years ago. Twelve fifty-eight in the morning. A black night for sure, right here. That night, I lost my shadow to the lights."

"Too unbelievable, Ned. You hear me? An insufferable tale if ever I'd heard one." Clancy Stork leaned on the bar, gave Ned Moore the old eye roll and sucked up the fragrance of a Camel before sniffing at the intermittent groupings of patrons at Brothers Den. Fire burning cozily. Writers sitting in half darkness debating character conflict resolution. Researchers pining behind stacks of yellowed newspapers. Painters staring at the night sky and whitened ground along the Schuylkill River outdoors. "You said when we got here you'd never been to this place before, that this was your first time in Philadelphia." He rubbed expensive cufflinks, pure silver rectangles picturing pyramids giving off rays of lustrous aquamarine, let their wealth comfort his ego.

Ned thumbed for the bartender. Another double shot of Scotch was sorely required. "You're not listening, old man."

Clancy huffed. He had known Ned since the days of college football, but never enjoyed his friend's arrogant Mid Atlantic accent. "Dear sweet Lord, what side of the Revolution are you on, man?" They had been companions ever since those heady days before the Sky War, Germany's glory, through law school at Hamilton and Clancy's failed marriage. Those issues were easily comprehended, more so than this wild tale.

The huff failed to quell Ned's corrective mood. "I said I had never been to this inn or Philadelphia since then. And, given the circumstances, why would I?" Ned got the requisite shot and absorbed it to great relief. He tinkered with the leather strap of his Dimier Brothers and Company wristwatch, Clancy's gift from way back. The cad always came back from the finer corners of the world lavishing his sole pal with material wonders Ned felt awkward wearing.

Clancy noted the tension. "No regrets, my good man. We're just country lawyers out of Claymont who stole north for some city excitement is all. Delaware held no spice for us, so that's why you dragged me here in the snow, yes?" Catering to the boredom of Clancy Stork proved to be sound business. A blasé hedonist has all the makings of chaos and financial ruin imprinted on his every cell. Ned, more accustomed to a more humble outlook, kept the reins on such compulsions held tight. His bad nerves slackened the hold.

"Excitement will come in apt proportion, I assure you. But the tale..." Ned held up his arm over the bar counter. Sure enough, no shadow was cast. He glanced at Clancy, brow lifted higher awaiting an apology, recognition. Something.

Clancy sipped on a mug of warm beer. "What of it? You've shown me this trick many a time." He had, too. Six years of the illusionary feat bored Clancy to tears. He hated parlor tricks and word games, artsy folk and sculptures sold at high prices. Museums took up precious space. Art movements were merely attempts by the lonely to foster attention. This ancient inn with art deco touches epitomized all of those animosities.

Ned slapped the counter, and then raised a submissive hand toward the approaching bartender. "It is no trick. It is theft. Theft most dire!"

Clancy took him by the arm. "Pipe down, friend. These starving artists are taking notes, you know? Might steal your story and make millions from the book sales. Desperate times and all that." He caught sight of a dangling pair of brass goggles behind the bar. Pointing to it, his gilded Dimier wristwatch catching the light to showcase its expensiveness, he posed, "Speaking of tales, didn't you say along the way that this inn has a storied history?"

With anxious breath, Ned tried again. "Yes. Yes! That's the ticket! If I explained the tale of the Brothers Den, of Mister Kestrel and its inhabitants, then you'd see how my hardship is a reality and not some cheap amusement. I came here this night to get it back, finally worked up the nerve after certain encounters, but until I figure out how..."