As I ate my taco I became mesmerized watching an enormous black man in blue overalls shove a whole burrito in his mouth. A tinny beeping in my ear made me realize Jamie was yelling into the phone, saying my name over and over.
“Val? Val? You still there, Val?”
I detected bad news woven into her tired, pinched voice. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“I don’t know about this synopsis, Val. It needs work. Major work.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It just doesn’t seem plausible.”
“But Jamie, it’s all based on true events!”
Jamie’s voice morphed into a sneer. “That’s the bitch about writing fiction, Val. Unlike real life, fiction’s got to make sense.”
Chapter Nineteen
All I needed was a miracle. One teeny-tiny bit of inspiration. I stared blankly at my shot-down book synopsis. Double Booty. Ha! Double Doody was more like it. Even my morning walk and canoodle with Mr. Coffee had done nothing to raise my enthusiasm. The only bright spot was that it was Saturday. I still had today and tomorrow to come up with something good. But working on it would have to wait a bit longer. I was running late for a date with an angry, alcoholic neat freak old enough to be my father. It was the best offer I’d had in a while.
Jacob was waiting for me in the parking lot when I pulled up to Water Loo’s. He saw me and waved through the squeaky-clean window pane of his Prius. He climbed out of the car, shut the door and tested the handle to make sure it was locked, then ambled over my way.
“Mind if we go somewhere else?” he asked, holding his hands open and to his sides in what looked like a weird truce gesture, just like the day before.
“No problem,” I said. “Don’t like it here?”
“Not my favorite. Do you know anyplace with a good cup of joe?”
“Starbucks?”
“I’d rather not. I don’t know what all the fuss is about. That stuff tastes like burnt plastic to me.”
“We’ve got options. Get in.”
Jacob smiled and buckled himself in tight. “Your car. She’s a real beauty.”
“My Maggie? Yeah, she sure is. You seem like a man who appreciates the classics, Jacob. How about we go to a real, honest-to-goodness diner for breakfast?”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
I maneuvered Maggie onto a southbound lane of Gulf Boulevard in the direction of Corey Avenue and Gayle’s Diner. Jacob and I sat silent for the ride, enjoying the relative coolness of the early morning breeze on our faces. A few minutes later, we were sitting across from each other in a cozy booth for two, a waitress filling our white ceramic cups to the brim with piping hot java. Jacob took a tentative sip from the steaming mug.
“Ahhh, now that’s what I call a good cup a joe!”
“Glad you like it, Jacob. And I want to thank you. Breakfast is on me today.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For coming forward. For sharing your stories with me. For being honest. You didn’t have to. And I know it’s not easy.”
“You two ready to order?” asked the round, shiny-faced waitress. “I see somebody here appreciates my coffee. I’ll be back to top you off in a minute, young man. Now what’ll it be?”
I ordered biscuits and gravy. Jacob followed my lead. While we waited for the food to arrive, Jacob continued his story with the perspective of a man who knew his part in it all too well.
“I realized I could never go back and make things right for Tony, but I was the only one holding enough cards to try and deal with what had gone wrong. You know what I mean?”
I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.
“Tony was a pushover, but he was no dummy. He’d already figured out some of the facts before I filled in the missing pieces for him during my AA confession. His father had died of lung cancer a couple of months before I caught up with Tony. The old man confessed on his deathbed that he’d paid Bobby Munch five grand to get Glad out of town and make the baby disappear. Back then that was a fortune. He didn’t care how Bobby did it and he never asked questions later. The old man had one of his flunkies steal the hospital and county files to erase any record of the birth. He had ’em take a couple of months’ worth just to cover their tracks. He told Tony he got the idea after Glad’s parents and brother got killed in that traffic accident. He figured no one would go looking for a baby with no kin.”
“No kin! What about Glad herself? She was the mother, for crying out loud!”
“What can I say, Val? Back then things were different. Women didn’t have many rights. Especially fallen women. They kept their traps shut and did what their husbands told ’em. Either by choice or by force.”
“Geez! Wasn’t Tony’s father the least bit sorry for what he did to them?”
“I don’t know. Tony said his father thought it was the right thing to do at the time, to save the high and mighty Goldrich family from scandal. But Tony said the bastard broke down in the end and said if he could do things over, he would have let Tony marry Glad.” Jacob huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “It’s amazing what people will do to unload their guilt. Especially at the last minute when they won’t be around no more to witness the damage.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “It seems to me like he’d already witnessed the damage he did to his son and Glad. The only thing he missed out on was the chance to be forgiven. To make things right.”
“Maybe. But his confession didn’t do shit to help either one of them. Both Tony’s and Glad’s lives were pretty much ruined by then.”
Jacob’s words pinged a memory from our prior conversation. I cobbled the fragments together into a question while the waitress placed our breakfasts on the table and topped off our coffees.
“Jacob, yesterday you said Glad had suffered at the hands of Bobby. That your life was a fairytale in comparison. What did you mean?”
Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced out the window and swallowed hard, like he was trying to get a pill down with no water. “Put it this way. Bobby was a man of convenient morals. Learned it from preaching, I guess. A pretty picture of Glad and the thought of five grand in his pocket was all the motivation he’d needed to get the job done. I’m sure Bobby poured on the charm. Shit. He probably didn’t even need charm. Glad was a woman with no good options.”
“I could imagine.”
“No you couldn’t, Val. No woman in America today could imagine what it was like back then. Picture this. Glad gets wheeled out of the hospital with a new baby, no husband and no place to go. Parents dead, boyfriend disappeared, she ends up at a ‘mercy home’ for unwed mothers that’s crawling with tight-assed social workers looking down their noses at her like she smells of shit. They tell Glad the best thing for everyone is for her to give her bastard baby to some decent folks and pray that she can weasel her way back into society someday by kissing every ass she sees. Mercy home my ass! Fuckers!”
Jacob rapped his knuckles hard on the table, causing me to flinch. He seemed to catch himself off guard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be impolite.”
“It’s okay. Finish your story.”
“So Glad’s taking turns nursing her baby and crying her eyes out when some bucktoothed bozo of a preacher takes notice of her. He says it’s love at first sight or some such horseshit. Then he offers her a way out. Glad can marry him and keep the baby. He’s fine with the kid. Says he’ll adopt it, raise it as his own. Only thing is, the revival tent is packing up and heading out of town in a day or two. She’s thinking it over when a holier-than-thou social worker tells Glad they’ve found a decent couple who wants her baby. They’re coming by tomorrow for a look-see. The clock is ticking in Glad’s ears like a time bomb. What would you do?”
“Did that really happen?”
“I don’t know, but probably. More or less. So, Miss Val, what would you do?”
“I’d keep my baby…and go with Bobby.”
“Bingo. Glad told me herself she didn’t have any choice, rea
lly. Bobby convinced her he would take care of her. She married him and they took off with the baby. For a moment she even thought she was lucky. Lucky! Geezus. She had no idea what she was getting into. She didn’t know she was sealing her fate.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I kept my promise to Tony. I was the one who found her.”
Part of me wanted to know what came next. Part of me didn’t. I swallowed hard and thought of Glad in her pink lounge chair, sprawled out in the sun. I glanced at the time. The vintage chrome clock on the wall at Gayle’s Diner said it was ten after ten. I was supposed to meet Tom at noon. If I pushed it, I could stay another hour with Jacob. I hoped it would be long enough for him to share everything he knew.
“Something else, Jacob? Slice of pie, maybe?”
“No thanks, Miss Val. Mighty nice of you.”
“Okay. So tell me, how did you find Glad?”
“The truth be told, I didn’t have to look. I already knew where she was. I didn’t tell Tony because she’d begged me not to. I’d run into Glad nearly six years before. I think it was sometime in 1974. She and Bobby were in Hawesville with that traveling circus they called a revival. I drove by the church while they were setting up the tent. I recognized Bobby right away. He’d built himself up a belly over the years, but he still had that ridiculous Elvis hairdo and jackrabbit teeth. He was arguing outside the tent with a woman about as thin as a sheet of paper. I watched as he grabbed her arm and jerked it so hard I thought it might break it in two. Call it whatever you want, but something inside me made me pull over.”
I fiddled with the packets of artificial sweetener, not wanting to make eye contact with Jacob. I braced myself for what might come next. I glanced quickly into his eyes and then back down to the pink and yellow packets. I gave a quick nod.
“I guess Bobby thought no one was looking. That buck-toothed bastard pushed the woman so hard she fell to the ground. He laughed at her, then got in a truck and drove off. I got out and ran over to her. I asked if I could help her up. That’s when I saw her eyes. Dead, zombie eyes. Like her soul was already gone from her body. Still, her face looked familiar somehow. I wasn’t sure it was Gladys, but I said her name anyway. You know what she said back?”
“What?” I looked up from the packets, dread mixing with the biscuits and gravy in my stomach.
“She said, ‘Yes sir.’ Like I was her freaking commanding officer or something.” Jacob’s voice cracked and he looked away for a minute. He took a deep breath and continued.
“I said, ‘Gladys, it’s me, Jacob.’ She said, ‘Yes sir,’ again, like a robot. I helped her up and saw her arm was covered with bruises. My heart nearly broke. So I told her to come with me, right then and there. She said she couldn’t. She told me she was cursed. She said the devil had killed her baby and if she left the church he’d get her, too.”
“Geezus!”
“Jesus had nothing to do with it, Miss Val. Bobby had fucked her up almost beyond recognition. I told her I was from the church and I was here to take her to a better place. That made her smile a little, but her eyes stayed dead, like she was in a trance.”
Jacob’s voice cracked again. “Val, she wasn’t even 30 yet and was wearing dentures. That bastard had knocked every one of her front teeth out. I took her by the hand and said ‘Let’s go.’ She said, ‘Yes sir,’ again and followed me to my car like a lost child. I told her she looked tired and should take a nap in the back seat. She laid down and I fired up the engine and took off, wondering what the fuck to do next.”
“What did you do?”
“I ended up taking her home to my place. I showed her the spare bedroom and told her to get some rest. She got a little hysterical saying there was too much air in the room or something like that. I gave her a shot of gin and a piece of toast. She drank the gin and laid down. I found her the next morning sleeping under the bed like a whipped dog.
“It was awful. Glad had such a nervous stomach she couldn’t hold anything down but booze and bread. I knew I was out of my league, so I called my sister Angela. She was big into women’s lib in those days. Gloria Steinem and all that happy horseshit. I explained the situation. Ang said she’d take her in on one condition. That Glad pressed charges against Bobby Munch.”
“What did you say?”
“Well, I was in no position to argue. And why should I? I lured Glad into the car with a Stolli miniature and the promise we were going to visit one of Jesus’s angels. I popped No-Doze and drank Pepsis all the way down to my sister’s little place here in St. Pete. I didn’t dare stop for nothing but gas. Glad was afraid of everything. But when I introduced her to Angela, Glad fell to her knees and wept like she’d seen the Virgin Mary. I remember my sister getting teary-eyed, too, but I whispered in Angela’s ear that angels don’t cry. Ang caught on quick and spoke to Glad like she thought an angel would. Kind. Gentle. But with authority, you know? From that moment on, Ang – or Angel, if you want – had the last word with Glad. That poor, broken woman followed her ‘angel’ around like a donkey follows a carrot.”
“Your sister really does sound like an angel.”
“Yeah. I guess our mom got it right when she named her.”
“So what happened next?”
“Glad stayed with Angela for a few weeks. I called every day to make sure everything was going okay. Ang said Glad was no problem at all except when it came to going to bed. She said Glad feared open spaces. She was afraid that ‘all that air’ was going to get her. Well, one day Ang called me and said she was expecting a friend for a visit. An old friend of Ang’s who’d recently lost his wife and was feeling pretty low. He was in the area camping and had called to see if he could stop by. She wanted to know if it was okay with me. She was worried that Glad might freak. You see, there hadn’t been no man at Ang’s house since I left. I told her I thought it would be alright, since Glad didn’t seem to be bothered much by me. Besides, Glad was beginning to eat better by then and was actually talking a bit.”
I glanced at the clock. Five minutes to eleven. Jacob noticed me check the time.
“Long story short, Miss Val, Ang’s friend turned out to be her old high-school flame. It was love at first sight all over again for them. He moved right in and they took up where they’d left off. As good hearted as Ang was, it was awkward having Glad in the house with them all the time. But I guess Ang’s angels were looking out for her, too. You see, this fella had driven over to Ang’s in an RV. His late wife had been a butterfly freak. The whole RV was covered inside with fake butterflies. They were on the curtains, the bedspread, wind chimes, knick-knacks. You get the picture. Well, the guy was going to sell the RV. But Glad took a look inside, climbed in and didn’t want to leave. So Ang and her boyfriend moved the RV into the backyard and Glad moved in for the duration.”
“So that’s how she ended up in the Minnie Winnie!”
“How did you know it was a Minnie?”
“I saw the receipt of sale. Some guy sold it to her for a hundred bucks.”
“You mean Billy Jonson, Ang’s boyfriend. Ang told me he’d given the RV to Glad. I didn’t realize he’d transferred title, too. I don’t think he charged her anything. How could he? Glad didn’t have a dime.”
“Wow. None of this even remotely resembles the stories Glad told me.”
“Well, Val, can you blame her? Who would want to remember any of that horrific shit? Glad was so messed up back then she spent nearly a decade cooped up in a fantasy world of butterflies and angels in a tiny RV.”
I thought back to the empty shoebox Glad had labeled 1974 to 1985. It started to make sense now. The box was empty because she had been, too. I grabbed my purse and wiggled out of the booth.
“Thank you, Jacob. I’ve got to be somewhere at noon. Let me give you a ride back.”
Chapter Twenty
I left Jacob in the Water Loo’s parking lot with a promise to meet up again that evening. I wanted to find out if he knew any more about Glad�
�s baby, but we’d run out of time. My head was spinning. So much to take in. But there was no time to ponder. If I was lucky, I had just enough time left to make it to Ming Ming’s by noon. I hit the gas and headed south toward 107th Avenue. It morphed into Central Avenue once it crossed the Intracoastal Waterway. Ming Ming’s was on Central Avenue, right in the middle of what had to be the ugliest little strip center in the world. The low-rent, grey concrete structure with cheap metal siding for awnings was home to the usual suspects: A nail salon, a tax-prep service, a florist and, of all things, a British restaurant. Who in the world ever got a hankering for kidney pie or blood pudding?
When I pulled up, I could see through Ming Ming’s shiny glass storefront that Tom was already seated inside at a table for two. He was facing the parking lot and could see me through the large panes of glass. I shut off Maggie’s ignition and discreetly checked my face in the rearview mirror. Powdering my nose wasn’t going to help the red schnoz shining like a beacon in the center of my face. WTF. I sighed and stepped out of the car, right into a steaming pile of dog shit. Fuck! I could see Tom smiling and waving at me through the window as I scraped the sole of my sandal on the curb. So much for making a grand entrance.
“Having a shitty day, I see,” he said as I came through the door.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get any shittier,” I shot back.
Tom laughed. “I can’t make any guarantees.”
My stomach flopped. “What do you mean? Bad news?”
“I wouldn’t call it bad, exactly.”
“What would you call it?”
Glad One: Starting Over is a %$#@&! (Val & Pals Book 2) Page 13