by Gregg Burton
I turned back to my frustrated mark. “Do you have a pencil I can borrow? I left mine in my room.”
He looked up at me like he was ready to cry. “Sure,” he replied. The mark reached down to get one out of his backpack, but came up empty handed. “Tell me how you got an A in this stupid class,” he said, sounding frustrated and desperate.
“You really think you’re going to fail that class, huh?”
He nodded.
This is where Mr. Fontanne told me to give him the tale. A tale is a story you give a mark in an attempt to pull him in. It's the same as roping in a mark.
I leaned closer to him. “Well, listen,” I said in a light whisper. “I know this guy. He's the same guy who helped me pass my exam. He didn’t tutor me and his services are not cheap, but you’re guaranteed to pass--if you know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean! I don’t care about the money. I just need to pass this damn test. Can you still get in contact with him for me?”
I saw a bit of hope in his eyes.
“I still have his number, but he’s kind of funny about the people he does business with.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to meet me. He could give it to you, and you could give him the money. Hell, you could shortchange him for all I care. I just really need those test answers.”
“What if I give you my old test?”
“Won’t work. She changes the test every semester.”
“Damn, I forgot about that.”
I started to slowly shake my head as if I was fighting myself from making a bad decision.
I tensed up. “I don’t know about this. I could get into a lot of trouble if we’re caught. You know what? I better not. I’m so sorry for getting your hopes up.”
Mr. Fontanne told me that if a mark didn’t care about ethics, he would beg you to take his money to get what he wants.
When I got up to walk away, my mark stopped me in my tracks. “I will pay you for the number, and I promise not to mention your name if I get caught.”
“I don’t know. This is my last semester. I can’t afford to take this kind of chance.”
“Here.” He reached into his pocket. “Here’s a hundred dollars. It’s all I have on me.”
“This really means that much to you, huh?”
“You don’t understand how much.”
“Okay.” I opened up my cell phone, pretending to find the number. “Here we go. This is his number, and his name is…Well, just call him…You know what? Don’t call him anything. When he answers, just tell him I gave you his number. Wait until after seven tonight to call him, because he works really late and doesn’t answer his phone while he’s at work. You know, I’m lucky I ran into you. My landlord just raised my rent, and I could really use the money… I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Simon.”
“Nice to meet you, Simon. My name is Linda.”
I reached out my hand for him to shake it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the number I gave him. He looked at that number like it was his pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
“Okay…Just remember not to call until after seven, okay?”
“Okay Linda. Thank you, again.”
“No problem. Good luck.”
I walked out of the library, thinking there was no way people could be so gullible. Who in their right mind would give a person a hundred dollars for a number he wasn’t even sure would work or not?
I dialed the number Mr. Fontanne had given to me.
“It worked,” I said when he answered. “I don’t know how, but it actually worked.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, yeah––I mean, yes. I am a little. He basically shoved a hundred dollars into my hand.”
“Well, my dear, it seems you did well on your short con test. You know, the best thing about short cons is that they only take a couple of minutes, and even with limited resources, the con can prove to be very profitable.”
“I know. I know. You’ve told me.”
Short cons, big cons, whatever. All I saw was the long money and Mr. Fontanne had the knowledge I needed to get it.
“So Ace, what’s next?”
He laughed at me calling him by his moniker. If he was going to put money in my pocket like that, he was definitely going to be my friend.
“Meet me back at my place.” He said and then hung up the phone.
Chapter 4
At Ace's place, I knocked while opening the front door. Malik and Ace were sitting at the table playing a game of chess.
“Ms. Linda, how does it feel?” Ace asked me.
“It feels great! My heart is still beating like crazy. I do feel a little sorry for Simon, though. The poor kid just wants to pass his exam. I wish I could get the answers to that test. Then, I could have made a killing. I mean, we could have made a killing.”
“Oh?” said Ace. “How much do you think we could make?”
“I don’t know. He gave me a bill just for the number. I could only imagine how much he would pay for the test.”
Ace smiled at Malik. “I guess you and Shadow were right. Maybe we could play for him.”
I sat down on the couch the way Ace taught me. He took notice and nodded. I nodded back.
“Who is this Shadow person?”
They ignored my question, but asked a question of their own.
“Do you think he would be good for at least ten thousand dollars?” Malik asked me.
I shrugged. “Ten thousand? Hell, why not make it a million? You guys are hilarious. How do you expect a college guy to come up with that kind of money?”
Malik picked up a folder he had on the table and brought it over to me.
“True. He is in college,” said Malik. “But, he’s not your average poor college kid. He’s not using financial aid and loans to make it through school. In fact, the guy's father gives out tens of thousands of dollars in loans and grants to small businesses and struggling college students every year.”
The file Malik handed me said it all. A wallet-size picture was even stapled to the file. It read: Simon Newman III, born August 22, 1989 in Houston, Texas, to Simon Newman II and Paula Mitchell-Simon. The mother, Paula, died when he was young from lung cancer. His father, who runs one of the largest oil drilling companies in Texas, raised Simon alone and never remarried.
Simon’s interest were hiking and playing baseball. He was a huge fan of the Dallas Cowboys and the UFC. At one point in his life, he had a major gambling problem. Now, at twenty-two, Simon was clean from gambling and attending college at NYU. Due to his old gambling problem, Simon's father thought it would be best if he stayed on campus. There, Simon shared a room with a freshman from Ohio.
The file even had the father’s financial records, all the businesses he owned, and a list the boards he served on. The last paper in the file noted that when Simon turned twenty-five, he would receive an estimated one hundred million dollars from his father. It was his trust fund. Due to Simon's gambling problem, his father added a clause. Simon had to stay away from gambling, or he would have to wait another five years to receive his trust fund.
I closed the folder and sat back on the couch. I had to ask myself how they knew this was the guy I was talking about in the first place, and how in the hell did they get a file on him so fast?
“Who in the hell are you guys? There’s no way you could have possibly gotten this information, unless you’re the NYPD, FBI, or CIA.”
Ace stood from his chair, walked over to me, and took the file from my hand.
“My dear lady, neither the FBI nor the CIA could have gotten this 'info,' as you call it. No, Ms. Linda, in order to retrieve this type detailed information you need Shadow. Quite frankly, neither of those ‘suits’ could afford his services nor would he want to extend it.”
Ace tapped the folder against his leg twice. “Call Shadow,” he told Malik. “Make sure he gets a hold of the store manager tomorrow. Tell him we need the store opened up for business
. Also, call our contact at the bank. We will need his services in the next couple of days or so. Okay?”
“Sure, Ace, I’m all over it. But Ace, this is my play, right? I’m ready to play the big store. I’ve been a shill for three years now. I’m ready. Trust me. I can do this.”
I sat and watched Ace as he closed his eyes. I guess he used that as a way to help him think. Malik just stood there like a six-year-old awaiting his father's decision.
Finally, Ace opened his eyes and smiled at Malik. “You’ve earned it. You’re the inside man.”
“Yes!”
Malik pulled out his cell phone and went to work.
“Well, it seems like we have some time to kill before Mr. Newman calls,” Ace said to me after looking at his watch. “After Malik gets off the phone, why don’t you two go and get yourselves something to eat. While you’re out, I will stay here and cover some loose ends.”
“That’s fine by me. I was getting a little hungry anyway.”
“Good. Let’s say we meet back here at six fifty-five, yes?”
I shrugged my shoulders without saying a word.
He smiled. “Right.”
“Shadow said everything is taken care of,” Malik told Ace once he finished his call. “So, I heard you want me to take Linda out for a bite?”
“Yes, but please be back on time. We have some things to go over. Take this.” He handed Malik a few dollars while walking us to the door. He held it open for us as we left. “Remember, six fifty-five,” Ace said before closing the door behind us.
We were on the corner of 1st Avenue and 14th Street. It was a little after three, and a charter school was letting out. Little girls and boys walked by us in their uniforms, talking as if they were ten years older than their actual age. One girl, no older than fourteen, was telling her friends how she messed with a boy just to get back at her sister. She said her sister was wrong for messing with him in the first place, because she had seen him first. Her little friends hummed in agreement as they walked into a pizzeria. I shook my head at those girls. No self-respect.
Malik stretched a little. “Do you want to get something to eat or… You know what? I have a great idea. Let’s get a massage. You seem a little tense, and I know this great place a couple of blocks away.”
“Yeah, that’s cool. I don’t care.”
I’d never had a massage before, so I thought it would be kind of cool. I also used the walk to get some more information on Ace.
The man known as Marco ‘Ace’ Fontanne was a mystery to me. His gentlemanly manner coupled with a gangster’s mentality was captivating. He seemed like the kind of man who would charm you to trust him and then rob you blind. I liked his style and wanted to know more.
“How did you meet Ace?” I asked Malik as we walked.
“Awww, man,” he began. “Ace caught me stealing candy out of a bodega when I was ten. He made me give the candy back to the owner. The owner of the store wanted to call the cops on me, but Ace talked him out of it. He told the owner, ‘Look, the boy gave you back the candy. I will personally promise that you will never have trouble out of him again.'
“Hell, up until the point when the manager said okay, I thought I was going straight to jail without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars. Anyway, the owner let me go, but told me that he didn’t ever want to see me in his store again. That was fine by me. I was so shook up that I didn’t even want to pass his place for months after that. When we walked outside, Ace asked me why I stole the candy. I told him that it was because I wanted the candy, but didn’t have any money. So, I took it. Then, he asked me if I wanted to learn how to get candy without stealing it or paying for it. I was like, ‘Sure, what do I have to do?’ Ace smiled at my eagerness and told me exactly what to do. That day, I learned my first con, 'Raising Change.' He taught me how to trick cashiers into giving me more money then I gave them by misdirection. It’s a short con. The payout is small. For a ten-year-old, it was more than enough.”
“So Ace taught you everything you know?”
“Yeah, Ace has been more like a father to me than my own. I never knew real father. I didn’t care much either, because I had Ace.”
“So, you lived with Ace after that?”
“Something like that. Hey, we’re here.” Malik tapped my shoulder to stop me.
The storefront we stopped in front of was small. It had an information board out front to let pedestrians know the daily or weekly specials. Malik opened the door for me. The series of chimes that sounded from the top of the door announced our entrance. When I stepped inside the place, I looked to the left and saw an older Asian lady reading her Chinese newspaper behind a counter filled with vitamins written in another language. To my right was a small wall full of medicine and vitamins. In front of me was a life-sized acupuncture poster. Next to it was a white sheet used to cover up the back of the business.
The lady stopped reading her paper. “May I––”
She caught her words when she saw Malik step into the room.
“Malik!” she yelled.
She seemed a little too excited as she hurried from behind the counter to meet him.
“Hey, Sue,” he said calmly. “I brought my friend to get a massage today. Is David here?”
“Yes, yes, he is. And, what about you? No massage for you?”
Malik rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Of course, I will. Is Susan in?”
“Of course, she is. Where else would she be?”
After running back around the counter, Sue picked up her phone, punched in three numbers, said something in Chinese, and hung up.
I stood there watching Malik. He was different than most guys our age. To be honest, he was different than a lot of men I knew. He almost reminded me of a younger Ace.
I have to admit, I liked his style, too. He knew who he was, and I liked that about him. Malik had a charm that was weakening, and a smile that said trust me. One of his most appealing attributes was his ability to keep you intrigued with his conversations. That’s a recipe for danger. But, I’ve learned that’s a prerequisite for all great confident men, or in my case, a confident woman.
I watched as Malik looked at the different vitamins and roots. He bent down and picked up a bottle. “This helps with stamina,” he whispered up to me.
“You would know,” I whispered back.
He shot me the middle finger. I stuck out my tongue.
Malik came toward me as I was standing with my back against the wall of bottles. He got so close that I could smell his cologne. It was a delicate scent, one that that caused my nose to tingle with pleasure.
“Excuse me. I was looking for this.” Malik reached over my head and grabbed a bottle of vitamin A. “This is for Ace. Those old bones of his are not what they use to be.”
My breathing became intense. Out of nowhere, I had this overwhelming desire to kiss him. His breath smelled like the Winterfresh gum he was chewing. It was making my head numb. I forced myself to speak before I did something stupid, like kissing him, making a fool out of myself.
“You really care for him, huh?” I asked in short breaths.
Our faces were so close that I was getting uncomfortable in Malik’s presence. I started to feel something I didn’t like––lust.
“He’s all I have,” Malik replied in a tender voice. He was like a proud son taking care of an ailing parent. He then looked down into my eyes. “You know, God blessed you with some beautiful eyes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The chimes we heard from the front door now came from the back. Hearing them, Malik slowly moved from me, but held his eyes to mine. For the first time, there was no smile on his face. His eyes were talking to me, telling me that he wanted me.
The curtain opened. From behind it, a short, muscular man emerged. Then, a woman who was the same height as the man--three inches shorter than my 5’6” frame--walked up from behind him. Both bodies shared the same golden bronze tone.
> The guy had hair that stopped at his shoulders. The woman’s hair rested in the middle of her back. Both had friendly smiles. When the woman––whom I presumed was Susan––saw Malik, her smile became uncontrollable. She pushed by her co-worker and rushed into Malik’s arms.
Malik gave her a huge hug. “I’m happy to see you too, Susan.”
She started speaking real fast. In her heavy accented voice, I couldn’t make out what she was saying. But, whatever she said caused her pitch to rise and helped Malik’s smile to return. She then released herself from his body, grabbed his arm, and started pulling him to the back.