Tax Cut (12 page)

My dad went back to the kitchen and started chopping onions and garlic, preparing a tomato sauce.
My mother went to the laundry room to finish washing clothes. My father and I were deep in conversation when my mother waddled out of the laundry room, wearing a housedress and holding a brown object in the palm of her hand. She extended her palm toward my father and said, “Is this poop?” She brought the object up to her nose and smelled it. “It doesn’t smell like poop.” I thought that my mother was surely losing it. She continued to talk. “This was in my white clothes. I don’t understand where this came from. This is because your father put this load of laundry in the washer.”

“Yeah, it’s my fault,” my father said.

My mother smelled the object again. “It doesn’t smell like poop,” she reiterated.

“If it was poop, it would be white,” my dad said.

“What do you mean, white?” my mother asked.

“You said it was in with the white clothes, so it would have been bleached.
It would be white.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

“It’s just like when dog poop is out in the sun. The sun bleaches it; it turns white.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

At this point, I couldn’t control my laughter. I was laughing at them, not with them. This was a serious conversation to
them
. My mother smelled it again. “I don’t understand how this got into my white clothes.”

“What I don’t understand is why you are still holding it in your bare hand if you think it’s poop,” I said.

My mother walked over to the garbage can, flipped her palm upside down, and the unknown object landed in the garbage can with a
clunk
.

“If it were poop, it probably wouldn’t be so hard and heavy after going through the spin cycle,” I said, trying to tone down my amusement.
My mother was not amused. My father, however, was.

“And you, Father.
Stop putting loads in the load,” I told him.

My mother walked back into the laundry room.
My father smirked.

“What I want to know is…where did the poop come from?
You or my daughter?” I let out a giggle. My father laughed as well.

While they weren’t trying to be funny, my parents were a hoot. A good laugh was what I had needed to de-stress and start my weekend off by focusing on normal family life instead of murdering mobsters.

Chapter 1
2

I was thrilled to be going out on a second date with Kris. It had been three weeks since our first date. I dropped Mandy off at my parents’ house so I could get ready without interruption and so that Kris could pick me up like a normal person.
I didn’t want to feel like a teenager being picked up with my parents grilling my date and telling me to be home at a certain time. It was turning out to be a beautiful spring day, so I chose to wear a mint green sundress with a white sweater and white strappy sandals.

Kris picked me up at noontime.
I admired how attractive he was as he walked up the driveway. My hands shook as I opened the door, and he leaned in. I thought he was going to kiss me, so I leaned in, and he turned his head away and hugged me instead. I felt like a moron about the hug/kiss misconnection and hoped he didn’t notice the awkwardness or my nervousness.

After some quick pleasantries, h
e led me out to the car and opened the door for me.
He is a true gentleman,
I thought. My ex, Randy, never opened a car door for me. Randy was the last person I dated. He was Mandy’s father and we broke up immediately after she was born. I wasn’t sure if you could count my disastrous encounter with Kris as a first date, so I thought this was technically my first real date in two years. That thought only contributed to my nerves. I hoped everything would go smoothly this time.

I hopped in his car, a charcoal gray Passat, and he drove out to Belmar for the annual St. Patty’s day parade.
Afterwards, we went to a local restaurant with a beautiful ocean view. There wasn’t much to tell—we talked, we laughed, we had a great time. On the drive home, he asked me out again for next Saturday and I happily agreed. He walked me to my door and then apologized for not having more time to spend with me. He had to pick up his son. Being a single parent myself, I understood and was anxious to get back to Mandy also. Kris picked up my hand and looked deep into my eyes. Then, to my surprise and chagrin, he shook my hand, said he had a nice time, turned around, and left.

I was confused, to say the least. I thought we had had such a great time.
I chalked it up to nerves or the fact that he was trying to be a gentleman, then I went inside to call my parents and see if I should come pick up Mandy or if they were planning on dropping her off to me.

* * *

I woke up the next morning still feeling disappointed about the ending of my date with Kris. Very badly, I wanted to feel his soft lips against mine. My phone rang at seven o’clock, which was more like six a.m., because we had to change the clocks ahead an hour for daylight savings time at midnight.

“What are you doing up so early?” I asked Bonnie, after seeing her name pop up on the caller ID.

“I’m feeling lucky!” Bonnie said.

“Umm…do I dare ask?”

“Oh, puh-lease. I said I’m
feeling
lucking, not
getting
lucky.”

“That wasn’t what I had meant.”

“Feel like going to A. C.?”

“
Atlantic City?”

“Well, what other A. C. is there?”

“Not a clue. I’ll have to see if my parents can take Mandy.”

“No need.
My nanny is working today; she’ll watch Mandy for you. I thought we could go for a few hours. Get lunch, do a little gambling, then head back home.”

“Al
l right. What time shall I be ready?”

We disconnected and I jumped in the shower. I thought about how nice it would be to have so much money that a person could afford their own personal nanny.
Bonnie had two daughters, ages eight and ten, and she had the same nanny all those years. I was single since the moment Mandy was born. Sure, my parents were there to help, but it’s not the same as having a registered nurse helping you out so that you can get a good night’s sleep. My parents weren’t doing too many sleepovers and, even with my daughter being two years old, I still wasn’t getting enough sleep. I finished getting myself ready for the day, then I got Mandy ready to go. I buckled Mandy into the car and we set off for Ocean Avenue in Sunshine, to Bonnie’s house.

I arrived s
lightly after eight and, soon after, we headed out in Bonnie’s mint-condition Mercedes for the two-hour drive to A. C. I filled Bonnie in on my date with Kris. This might have been a mistake on my part.

“What do you mean, he didn’t kiss you?” she asked.

“I don’t know; he walked me to my door, shook my hand, and left.”

“Maybe he’s afraid of your dog!”

“He’s not afraid of the dog.”

“Were you giving off the wrong vibe?”

“And what vibe would that be? We had a great time. The only vibe I was giving was ‘please kiss me.’”

“See, that’s why I keep telling you to grow some hair down there.”

“Bonnie!”

“I think you give off that vibe like you’re a little girl.
A grown up woman wouldn’t have been thinking ‘please kiss me.’ You have to stop being a mouse and turn into a kitten.”

“What?”

“Yeah, a sex kitten. Take me, for example. If this was the first guy I had dated in over two years, I would have been thinking, ‘Take me now, big boy,’ not ‘Please kiss me.’”

“I’m sorry I told you.”

“Don’t be. I can help you—give you some pointers.”

“No thanks!”

“You’ve been out of the game for years now.”

“Um, excuse me, but you’ve technically been out of the game yourself
—the dating game, at least. You’ve been married to Jayce forever.”

“Fine, you don’t want my advice?
Then you don’t have to listen. Let me ask you one thing…where were your hands?”

“What?”

“Where were your hands?”

“When he walked me to the door?”

“When you were standing at the door, waiting for him to kiss you.”

“I don’t know
. At my sides, maybe?”

“Well, next time
, pay attention to your hands. You might be sending signals—insecurity, don’t touch me, something. Put your hands on his hip, but in front, and a little lower than the hip.”

“Oh
, hell no! That sounds like you are telling me to put my hands on his parts.”

“See
? Do you see what I mean, Mousy?”

I told Bonnie I was done talking to her about Kris.
She was only making me feel worse. Maybe I was insecure around men. I didn’t want to ruin it for myself, but I didn’t want to think it was me and not Kris that was the issue. I kept replaying the end of the date in my head over and over until the big billboards of Atlantic City came into my line of sight.

The billboards begged us to go to this casino or that, to see a show, or to dine at the all-you-can-eat buffets.
I could see the city across the bridge…an island of skyscrapers with enormous LED signs. It exuded excitement and luxury from miles away. I had been to A. C. many times in my life. I tend to walk out a loser, but I’m not much of a gambler. Fifty dollars total with a maximum three-dollar bet is as much as I’ve ever played.

Bonnie u
sed the valet in the Taj Mahal and we entered through the hotel lobby, heading under the grand chandelier to the ornate escalators leading up to the casino floor. My ears were filled with the dinging and ringing of slot machines, some showing winners. My eyes were filled with blinking lights, lots of senior citizens, and waitresses in skimpy outfits serving drinks. Bonnie went over to the tables to play a little roulette. I went over to the penny slots, which were more akin to my pocketbook.

When my first twenty-five dollars of fun ran out, I went to find Bonnie.
She was sitting seductively in her tight black dress, legs crossed, at the roulette table, betting on black. Her right hand held a martini glass. She sipped her cosmopolitan while old men ogled her. I suddenly knew what she meant about me being a mouse. Bonnie
was
the sex kitten. Men loved her. It wasn’t in a bad way; she was always faithful to her husband. She was sophisticated, unlike my boss Winifred. She was so much more put together than I was.

I suddenly felt underdressed in my jeans and what I previously thought was a stylish white blouse.
I stood behind her. She asked me if I wanted to sit and play for a few spins, but I told her I’d rather watch. I glanced around the room, while Bonnie bet fifty dollars on black.

“Oh no!” I said.

“What’s wrong?” Bonnie asked.

I ducked behind her and put my head down.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“
I’m hiding from my boss. I just spotted Marc over there. Don’t look.”

Bonnie turned her head, sat way up in her seat
, and looked.

“I told you not to look! I don’t want him to see me.
I hate him. He’s so mean to me. I don’t want to have to be pleasant and say hello.”

“You know, technically, he’s my boss too,” Bonnie said.

“Yeah, but you don’t report directly to him, so you don’t have to deal with his anger issues.”

“
True. He’s over there with that hot guy,” she said.

“What hot guy?”
I turned quickly to glance and I saw Gino Righetti with him. He slipped Marc an envelope. They seemed nonchalant. It happened quickly.

“What are they up to?
” I asked Bonnie.

“Looks to me like Gino slipped
Marc some money.”

Bonnie hit on black, doubling her money.
She scooped up her chips and started walking toward the cashier.

“Do you really think it was money?”
I said, trying to keep pace with her.

“You seem so surprised.”

“Well, I guess, kind of. Maybe it wasn’t money.”

“I wish I could
borrow your rose-colored glasses, but the reality is that people are sometimes dirty and it doesn’t surprise me that there are people out there that do bad things.”

I grabbed Bonnie’s arm and
yanked her behind a large column.

“
Marc is right there at the cashier,” I said to Bonnie.

Bonnie stuck her head out from behind the column and looked.
“He’s probably getting chips.” She took out her cell phone, pressed a couple of buttons, then stuck her head out again and snapped a picture.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Oh, just getting some proof.”

“Proof of what?” I asked. “All it looks like is someone gambling.
Getting a picture of Gino slipping Marc the cash would have been proof, but this doesn’t look like proof to me.”

We surreptitiously watched as
Marc took his chips over to the poker tables.

“Let’s stay here for a few minutes,” Bonnie suggested.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because he’ll be back in a very short while.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s laundering the money that Gino gave him.”

“What? How would you know that?”

“I know everyone thinks that I’m some sort of a brainless bimbo because of my looks, but I actually have a lot of street smarts,” Bonnie replied.

“I’m sorry, that’s really not what I meant, I…” I wanted to open my mouth and insert my foot.

“I know you didn’t mean that.
I was only trying to say that people underestimate me and that’s not always a bad thing. People don’t think that I’m wise to their ways. My uncle was a cop his whole life; he taught me a lot.”

“Uncle Freddy?”

“Yup. As a matter of fact, I’m going to send these pictures to him.”

“Why don’t we just give them to the F.B.I. or something?” I asked.

“Do you really want to have to appear before a judge to testify against your bosses and the mob? I know I don’t. They might put out a hit on us before we ever make it to court.”

“You’re right.
I don’t want to get involved.”

“I’ll send the pictures to my uncle and tell him what we saw
. He’ll know what to do with them and he won’t involve us.”

“Good thinking.”

Five minutes passed, then Marc started walking in the opposite direction. We trailed him, staying far enough behind him, so that he would not be able to pick us out of the crowd. He walked up to a different cashier window clear across the other side of the casino. Bonnie snapped a few more shots of him cashing in the money. She had the date and time stamp showing on the photos. She forwarded the photos to her uncle’s cell phone.

When we were sure
Marc was long gone, Bonnie went ahead and traded in her chips at the cashier as well, then we headed to lunch. My mind was reeling from all that was happening. I thought about Babs and how she said Marc was a crook. About how she spoke about her nephew, the tooth fairy, and Marc, and something about money between them. About how her nephew turned out to be Gino Righetti. Babs hadn’t been spewing stories coming from the hallucinations of dementia; she had been trying to tell me something all along. Something very real. Something very scary. Something I wished I had never discovered. I shuddered at my thoughts. I told Bonnie about Babs and the things she had been relaying to me over the phone. There was no doubt that Babs was confused, talking in riddles. I didn’t know how the tooth fairy fit in, the cemetery, or the birds. Perhaps they didn’t fit in at all.