by Jason Starr
“Come in,” he said.
He was sitting at his desk, looking up at me over his reading glasses.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “I thought it might be my delightful wife.”
“You got a second?”
“Sure. Sit down.”
I sat in a chair across from him. The office was a mess with file folders, newspapers and magazines piled up everywhere. Frank put down the papers he’d been reading and said, “What am I gonna do with her, Tommy?”
“That’s up to you,” I said. “You already know what I think.”
“It’s never been as bad as it is now,” he said. “Every night she’s like this. I try to reason with her—get her to go to A. A. or see a shrink—but she just doesn’t think she has a problem.”
“That’s because she is the problem.”
“You’re right—I know you’re right—believe me. You know she’s placing ads in newspapers now? I heard her on the phone calling one of the neighborhood papers, I think it was Our Town. She was reading the ad to them over the phone: ‘Lonely married woman looking for a good time and more.’ Then, last week, I come home early from work and she has a guy over at the apartment—our apartment. I can hear them going at it from the living room, so I go bang on the bedroom door, thinking I’m gonna kill whoever she’s in there with. Then the bedroom door opens and this big black guy—seven feet tall, like a basketball player—comes out.”
“Maybe it was a basketball player,” I said. “I hear those guys get around.”
Frank shot a look at me.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I was just trying—”
“I know,” Frank said. “If I were you I’d think I was a pathetic joke too.”
“I don’t think that.”
“I know it’s hard for you to believe,” he said, “because you didn’t know her until a couple years ago, but she used to be so much different. She was a warm, friendly, outgoing, generous woman. Then she started hitting the bottle and—well, you’ve seen her. I keep telling myself that it can’t possibly get any worse, she’s definitely hit rock-bottom this time, then she’s putting ads in the paper and sleeping with men right under my nose.”
“You must like it,” I said
“What do you mean? I hate it!”
“That’s what you say—but if you really hated it you would’ve kicked her out the first time she cheated on you, like any normal guy would’ve. But since you’re staying with her, hoping that she’ll change, you obviously like the abuse.”
“Never mind.”
“See—that’s what you always say when you know I’m right, ‘Never mind.’ Well, if you really knew I was right you wouldn’t just sit there. You’d do something about it.”
“What about you?” Frank said, trying to change the subject.
“What about me?”
“How’s everything in your life going?”
“Not bad,” I said.
“Yeah? How’s the acting coming along?”
“Pretty good.”
“Really? I haven’t heard you talking about it for a long time. I hope you’re still taking it seriously.”
“I am.”
“Good. I’m glad. You know how much confidence I have in you, Tommy. I’m still waiting for you to come in here one day and tell me that you’re quitting your job—that you’re going out to Hollywood. Remember—all I want is a front-row seat at the premiere of your first movie.”
“You never know,” I said, remembering how I was thrown out of the audition this afternoon.
“So did you come in here to talk about anything else?” Frank asked. “I have to finish looking over these books and then I have to go out and take care of a few things.”
“Actually, I was having a little problem and I thought you could help me out.”
“Help you out with what?” Frank said, like he knew what was coming.
“I know I’m a few weeks ahead on my salary already, but I was hoping you could, you know—shoot me a little advance.”
Frank was glaring at me.
“Are you gambling again?”
I was ready to say no—make up some story—but I couldn’t bullshit Frank. The guy had been like a father to me—the father I’d always wished I’d had.
“A little bit,” I said.
“How much is a little bit?”
“I just need a few hundred bucks,” I said, “for rent and bills and—”
“What are you trying to do,” Frank said, “screw up your life? Why are you wasting your time gambling? You’re how old now, thirty-two, thirty-three? This is the time you should be going all-out, trying to make it with your acting.”
“Look, I don’t need the speech, all right—”
“Then what will it take to get through to you? You always tell me you’re through gambling, you’re gonna give it up—”
“I have it under control.”
“Under control? Meanwhile, you keep blowing your money at the track, coming to me for advances, and you think you have it under control? How much money are you into me for? A thousand, two thousand? You’re a compulsive gambler, Tommy. You have a sickness—like drinking, like anything else.”
I stood up and said, “Look, if you don’t want to give me the money you don’t have to.”
“You have to learn your lesson eventually. Maybe this’ll be your wake-up call. Maybe you’ll start going to G.A. like you should’ve months ago. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to bail you out this time.”
“Fine,” I said.
“I’m doing this for your own good Tommy. You know how much I care about you. Maybe now you won’t throw your life away.”
I left Frank’s office and went to the bar. I poured myself a pint of Sam Adams. I was pissed off at Frank for being so tough on me when he was so soft on his wife, but I knew he was right about one thing—gambling wasn’t the answer. Whenever I was at the track or the OTB, around all those degenerates, I always felt like the world’s biggest loser.
But the only way to make money fast was to win it and I knew I could win ten grand. I just needed a stake to bet with and then I had to get on a little hot streak. My only problem was getting the stake.
It was a slow night at the door which gave me a lot of time to think.
At midnight, Janene showed up. Until I saw her walk into the bar I’d completely forgotten about our date tonight.
“You look great,” I said, and it was true. She was wearing tight jeans and a tight purple velvet top.
“Thanks,” she said. “So do you.”
We hung out by the door, talking. She asked me how my audition went and I said, “Okay.” She said she hoped I got the part and I said, “I wouldn’t bet on it.” I got off work early, around one-thirty, and Janene and I left the bar together.
“So do you want to go to a diner or something?” I asked.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really, but I can always eat.”
“If you want we can just go back to my place—you know, to hang out and talk.”
Janene had had a couple of drinks at the bar and she seemed a little drunk.
“You sure you want to do that?” I said. “I mean I remember what you said last night about taking it too fast.”
“I was just being insecure,” she said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “Don’t pay any attention to me.”
We walked toward her apartment, holding hands, stopping every once in a while to make out.
Her apartment was on the sixth floor at the end of a long hallway. It was a big one-bedroom, at least twice the size of my dump. There was even a living room with a white couch, a coffee table, a rug, and some other expensive-looking furniture.
As soon we got inside and Janene turned on the light, I came up behind her, putting my hands around her waist, and started kissing the back of her neck and under her jaw. She stood there for a while, letting me go on, then she moved away.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I figured you could give me the tour in the morning.”
I tried to put my arms around her again but she pushed me back and said, “I’m serious.”
She walked away into the living room.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she said. “It’s just...I don’t know...Forget it.”
“Hey, if you don’t feel comfortable with me here it’s no problem. I’d be happy to—”
“No, that’s not it,” she said. “Of course I want you to be here. It’s just, I was hoping we could sit down for a while, and talk and...I really have to go to the bathroom.”
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“No. Please. I’m sorry.”
I waited on the couch while she went into the bathroom. She was taking a long time. I wondered what I could have said or done to piss her off. There was a copy of House Beautiful on the coffee table and I started looking through it. Finally, she came out and said, “You want some tea?”
“I don’t drink tea,” I said.
“You want something else to drink? Coke, 7UP, water...?”
“I’m all right,” I said.
She turned on the stove, putting up water for tea, then she came back into the living room and sat next to me on the couch.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” she said. “Really, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s just...”
“What? Come on, you can tell me.”
My hand was on her thigh.
“Well, it’s this, what you’re doing now—holding my hand. Touching me. Why weren’t you like this before at the bar?”
“What do you mean?”
“I tried to hold your hand a couple of times, but you kept pulling away. I was just wondering—are you embarrassed about me or something?”
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“That’s a good one,” I said. “Embarrassed to be with a beautiful woman like you.”
“Well, that’s how it seemed.”
“I was proud to be with you,” I said. “I wanted to be all over you at the bar, but I didn’t know if you wanted me to. I mean I remembered what you’d said last night about how we might be going too fast and—”
“Are you being honest with me?”
“Of course I am. What are you talking about?”
“Never mind,” she said. “I told you I was the one with the problem, not you.”
We started making out. She had her hand on my leg when she said, “So you got a new wallet, huh?”
At first I had no idea what she was talking about. Luckily, I caught on fast.
“No, that’s the old one. I found it in my apartment. It turned out I didn’t lose it after all.”
“Well, that must’ve been a relief.”
“Shit,” I said. “I didn’t have a chance to hit the bank before work to take your money out. But I could go out right now if you want me to?”
“No, it’s okay,” she said.
“You sure?” I said, knowing there was no way she’d send me out into the cold. “There’s an ATM a few blocks away, right?”
“Don’t be crazy, it’s freezing out,” she said. “Give it to me the next time we see each other or whenever. It’s no big deal.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said.
We started to make out again, then she was lying on the couch on her back and I was on top of her. I pulled back and smiled, looking into her eyes. Then, suddenly, something was different about her and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
For a few more seconds I stared at her, then it hit me.
“What happened to your eyes?”
“My eyes?” she said, like she had no idea what I was talking about. “What do you mean?”
“They used to be blue.”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you about that?” she said. “I wear color contacts. They were itching me so I took them out.”
“You mean your eyes aren’t blue?”
“What’s the matter? You don’t like my eyes?”
“No, I like your eyes a lot,” I said. “I just thought they were blue, that’s all.”
The tea kettle started to whistle. Janene went to the kitchen and came back with a mug of tea. She took a sip then put the mug down on the coffee table.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about, Tommy.”
“Shoot,” I said.
“Well, remember last night, when I told you I had something important I wanted to tell you.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I decided I want to tell you...tonight...right now.”
“So go ahead and tell me.”
“First you have to promise you won’t be mad at me. I mean it’s not a big deal, but you might be mad that I didn’t tell you.”
“There’s no way I could ever be mad at you.”
“Okay, well...” She was looking down. “See, there’s something about me you don’t know. It’s just...you see—God, I don’t know why this is so hard. I guess I might as well just say it—I’m married. Not really married—separated. I’ve been separated for over a year but, technically, I’m still married. I wanted to tell you the night we met, and then the first time we went out, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s pretty heavy.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away,” she said. “I would’ve told you but—”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I mean it’s not your fault.”
“You’re probably really mad at me now.”
“Why would I be mad at you? So you’re married. It’s no big deal. So who’s the lucky guy?”
“His name’s Joe. I went to college with him at Stony Brook. We were only married two years and we were never really right for each other.”
“That’s cool,” I said.
Her face brightened.
“You mean it?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean it’s not like you’re living with him anymore or anything. And it’s over, right?”
“Of course it’s over. The divorce should come through in the next month or two—we’ve both been seeing other people. You’re really not upset?”
“Why would I be upset?”
“You can’t believe what a relief this is. I was obsessing about it all day. I was afraid you’d freak out, that you’d ...I don’t know...want to make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m just happy to be with you tonight, that’s all,” I said.
We stayed on the couch for a while, making out, and then we went into the bedroom.
She moved closer to me. Her head was wedged between my arm and my chest. We were naked and sweaty.
“It feels so nice to be with you,” she said.
A few minutes later she was fast asleep.
I noticed the jewelry box on the dresser. I got out of bed and dressed quietly. The light on the night table was still on. In the dim yellow light I saw Janene still facing the other way. A necklace and a bracelet were out next to the jewelry box, but she’d probably notice if they were missing. Instead, I reached inside the box and took out a gold necklace, some diamond earrings, and a gold bracelet. I put the jewelry in my pocket. In the mirror above the dresser I saw that Janene was still fast asleep. I tiptoed out of the room and left the apartment.
Six
The next morning I drove to Chinatown. It wasn’t hard finding a pawn shop down there—the hard part was finding a Chinese guy who spoke English. After walking in and out of a couple of places, I finally found an old guy who seemed to understand me at a place on Hester Street, off the Bowery. I cut a deal with him—he’d give me three hundred bucks for the jewelry and I could buy it back for three-fifty. He originally wanted to give me four hundred, but we made it three if h
e wouldn’t put the stuff out for sale until tomorrow. The place closed at eight o’clock so I’d have plenty of time to buy the jewelry back before I went to work. Then I’d call Janene, figure out some way to explain why I took off last night, and find a chance to slip the jewelry back into her jewelry box.
From the Bowery, I hopped on the Manhattan Bridge to the BQE and about forty-five minutes later I was in the Aqueduct Racetrack parking lot in Ozone Park, Queens, sitting in my car, waiting for the gates to open. Leaving my apartment building this morning, I’d picked up a copy of the Racing Form and today nobody came over to bother me. I handicapped the whole card, letting the motor run to keep the inside of the car warm.
Walking into the track, I felt lucky.
I took the escalator up to the third floor. I once hit an exacta on the third floor for two Gs so I knew I had a much better chance of winning up there than on the first or second floors.
I won four hundred-plus dollars on the first race. I hit the second race and the daily double. Suddenly, I was up over a G. I lost the third race, hit the fourth and fifth, lost the sixth, and hit the seventh. I didn’t like anything in the later races so I left the track with a little over three grand in my wallet.
It was a great ride back to the city—blasting The Stones and The Who, banging out the beat on the dashboard.
Now I only needed seven grand to join the syndicate. Seven grand. I could make that in one or two more bets. I just had to be patient—wait for my spot. The key was I couldn’t just start betting wildly—I had to use my head. Over the next week I’d find a couple of solid bets—sure things. If I doubled my money two times that would give me more than enough to join.
It was a little after four o’clock when I crossed the Manhattan Bridge and arrived in Chinatown. The neighborhood was still packed with shoppers, but I found a parking spot right away, across the street from the pawn shop, proving that things were definitely going my way.
The old man was busy helping another customer so I hung out, looking at some Swiss Army knives in a display case. When the customer left I told the old man I was ready to buy back my jewelry.
I knew something was wrong when he acted like he couldn’t speak English.