Title: The 13th Card
By Joe Jukic (aka Frank Farmer)
Chapter 1: The Rabbi’s Tarot
The first time I saw the card, I knew something was wrong.
Rabbi Bernstein’s hands trembled as he laid it on the table—the Death card, thirteenth in the deck. The skull grinned up at me, bones crossed beneath it like the old pirate flag. But this wasn’t about pirates. This was Yale. This was Skull and Bones.
Nelly didn’t understand. She just laughed, flipping her hair, thinking it was some joke. But the Rabbi’s eyes locked onto mine, and I felt the weight of it. They’re coming for her.
Chapter 2: The Brotherhood of Death
I’d heard the whispers before—back in my old security detail for a senator who knew too much. The 27 Club wasn’t just bad luck. It was a pattern. A ritual. Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison, Cobain… all gone at 27. And now Nelly was being circled.
Randy Quaid had ranted about it for years—“The star whackers, Joe! They take ‘em young!”—but nobody listened. They called him crazy. But I’d seen the files. The contracts. The way certain artists were pushed too hard, too fast, until they broke.
Nelly wasn’t just a client. She was marked.
Chapter 3: The Altar Boy’s Vow
She used to joke, calling me her “altar boy.” Maybe because I still crossed myself before a job. Maybe because she knew I’d burn the whole damn system down to keep her safe.
That night in ’89—the night she wrote about—was when I first stepped in. Some industry sleazeball thought he could corner her backstage. I broke his wrist before he could touch her. Nelly squeezed my hand after, her voice small: “Nobody’s ever stood up for me like that.”
That’s when I knew. She wasn’t just another star. She was real. And that made her a target.
Chapter 4: Playing the Death Card
The Rabbi told me there was only one way out: play the card before they do.
So I did.
I leaked fake stories—whispers of Nelly’s “downfall,” tabloid trash about her being “washed up.” I made her look unworthy of their sacrifice. And when the suits started pulling back, I took her off-grid. No tour dates. No parties. Just silence.
They moved on. Found fresher prey.
Chapter 5: The Song She Wrote
Years later, Nelly played me the demo—that song, the one about 1989. She didn’t name names, but I knew. “You took my hand, and the monsters left,” she sang, grinning at me.
I never told her about the Rabbi. About the card. About how close she came to being another number in their cursed 27 Club.
Some secrets are better kept.
But when she calls me her “altar boy” now, I just smile.
Because I did keep the faith.
And she’s still here.
THE END.
