by Lynda Rees
Tisha’s eyes welled up again. She dabbed at them with her hanky. “How did she go from the life to this?” Tisha motioned around the mansion with her arm.
“Ambitious, Roberta saw dancing as a stepping-stone to bigger and better things. She got to know the girls, learned the operation and how to handle customers, and gained respect. She didn’t take bunk off of nobody.” Gran chuckled.
“Roberta saved everything she made. My partner and I sold our club and invested equally with her on a bigger club. We opened the Pink Kitty Kat on Monmouth Street, the largest, most profitable gentleman’s club in Newport—gentleman’s club—it’s a laugh.” The old woman cackled and slapped her bony thigh.
“It’s a polite way of saying nudie bar. Successful and frugal, we bought another joint in Covington. The Pussy Palace became fruitful as the Newport shop. Between the three of us, we managed the bars.”
Gran sighed heavily, waited a sec then plowed on.
“Roberta and my partner, your dad, Asher McClain, fell in love and married.” Gran glanced from her revere smiling as though enjoying a cheerful time.
“They lived deliriously happy together. They understood each other and wanted the same things. Hard-working, smart and ambitious, they partnered in business and life. Your mom remained fulfilled with Asher until the day he died.”
Lola paused, observing Tisha’s face, sadly taxed to explain.
“They shot Snake in front of his antique shop.”
“Yes, I know. Mom told me. He was a victim of a random, gang-related shooting, probably an initiation drive-by. They never solved the crime. It’s a mystery.”
“Well, it is the company line. Honestly gangs didn’t exist here back then. Cops on the take from the syndicate never put much effort in it. Loyalty was required by the Mob. They didn’t care who killed Asher and feared looking too deeply risking stepping on the wrong toes.”
At attention hearing fresh news, spurred a renewed interest in her to solve the crime.
“We suspected the Mob, but discovered no proof. The killer covered his tracks well. They wanted Asher to give them part of our businesses, and he refused. He paid a stiff price for snubbing their offer—his life. Roberta kept suspects close enough to watch, without their knowing she was onto them. She never gave up and kept digging, but quietly. Our lives depended on keeping it under wraps. Her suspicions are purely conjectured. She couldn’t risk digging deep with you to think of. To this day, we still aren’t sure, but I’d bet every penny I have on one man.”
Tisha’s eyes spanned wide hanging on every word.
“Roberta stopped dancing before you arrived. She managed the shops and kept investing, bought important pieces of real estate establishing legitimate businesses. She kept her hands in the fire. As years went by gentleman’s clubs became less and less popular. Police were less and less tolerant. The FBI got heavily involved and joined with a new government to clean up the area. Eventually Roberta phased out of the bar business completely.”
Tisha finally sighed in relief. What more could there be?
“A visionary, Roberta adapted as the world changed. Newport isn’t the same as back then. It’s a fashionable, happening scene. Yuppies come from all around, even from across the river in Cincinnati.”
This sounded more like the town Tisha knew as home.
“Crime no longer tolerated, the public won’t stand for their trendy Newport being littered with strip clubs. With nudity no longer acceptable in local bars, your mom knew to get out. She had such a head for business, brilliant, like you.”
Tisha felt like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole and may never find her way out.
“The Mob transitioned into legitimate businesses. They still have a presence, I guess. They’ve got eyes everywhere. They’re not to be trusted, always feared.”
“Gran, are you sure? It doesn’t happen around here any longer.”
Gran gave her a serious stare in response.
“It’s a lot to take in. It’s too out there. If you weren’t the one sitting here telling me this story, I wouldn’t believe it. The whole thing is bizarre.” She straightened her pants pacing. “I’ve had enough for one day. I’m going to hit the sack.” She bent to kiss the soft wrinkled cheek of the odd little woman she loved with all her heart. “See you in the morning, Gran.”
“Yes, good night, dear. I’m going to bed myself.”
Tisha came home for answers, seeking peace and mourning her mom. She only found more questions. In shock, she questioned everything she knew about her life.
Mom acted prim and proper, always perfectly groomed and behaved. She demanded no nonsense from Tisha either, always insisting she behave like a lady.
Her life was a sham and a lie.
Mom wasn’t the woman Tisha thought. Dad hadn’t been the man she fantasized about and idolized. Even Gran had a shady, tragic past.
Nothing existed as it had seemed.
What about the kids she’d grown up with? The way they treated her, the way they reacted to her? Some shied away. Some laughed at her. Some tormented and bullied her. She assumed her gawky body, shy nature, and awkward looks incited the taunting.
It wasn’t about her. Tisha suffered unfairly for choices her family—Roberta, Asher and Lola Di’Amani—had made.
Some kids attempted being friends. Their odd-nature friendships weren’t honest or open. She developed few genuine relationships back then. None lasted from childhood.
She’d felt like an outsider never finding a way to fit in, and sensed disapproval from parents of her friends who treated her different from others, as though they didn’t know how to act around her. She assumed odd behavior had been because sadness or curiosity about Dad’s murder. Her self-esteem had suffered.
It hadn’t been her all along. Her parents, the business they ran—parents didn’t approve and protected their kids, fearing she and her family endangered them or were bad influences. They shunned Tisha.
A revolution—seeing clearly now, it wasn’t her.
Parents must’ve been afraid of the life her family led and feared what their children might be exposed to, if they allowed them to get close. She couldn’t blame them now she knew. She understood. They did what a good parent should for their child, protecting them from Tisha and her family.
Mom and Gran tried to shield Tisha, to give her the normal life they wanted for her so she could fit in. Her parents sent her to a brilliant school, provided her a gorgeous home, quality things, and wonderful experiences. They gave her everything she needed and could ever want. They wanted her to have it all.
Mom had been particular when it came to her appearance, careful to look perfect. No wonder. She had to work harder to achieve some sort of appearance of normalcy. Constantly scrutinized, parents rebuffed her. Children and parents laughed behind her back.
No one dared laugh at her face. Roberta demanded respect and earned it. Roberta must’ve been hurt. How could she not be? She never let it show. Tisha never saw it or suspected.
My life is a sham, an elaborate lie.
Tisha cried into her pillow.
Where the hell does it leave me? I’m not who I thought—not by a long shot.
Who am I?
♥♥♥♥
Tisha talked briefly with Kelle catching up on work. Strained and exhausted, Tisha didn’t act her usual self. Kelle brought it up she claimed stress dealing with death and emotional task of going through Mom’s personal things.
She changed the subject. “How’s the dating going?”
“You know the guy I’ve been seeing?” Kelle chirped cheerful.
“Yes, Brad isn’t it? Don’t tell me you’re still at it? Humping like bunnies I guess.”
Kelle always knew how to bring light into Tisha’s world. Uninhibited, fun and likable, Kelle reeked of spit and vinegar living life with unrestrained vigor. The friends shared every aspect of their lives. Instead of confiding the shocking discoveries she’d had, Tisha encouraged Kelle to delve into her la
test adventures.
“Absolutely Babe,” Kelle laughed. “I can’t get enough of the S-T-U-D-L Y man with capital letters, and he’s the same with me.”
“Honestly, I’m impressed. You never date one man this long. This guy must be special. Good sex?”
“He’s absolutely that good in bed, but it’s not the reason I’m still seeing him. He’s the first man I ever met whom I enjoy as much out of the sack as in. He’s sweet, considerate, smart, hilariously funny, good looking, and he eats anything I put on the table without grumbling. He cooks better than I do. When I cook, he doesn’t complain. I can hardly bear being separated from him.”
“Wow, he’s like the perfect man—no taste buds. I mean really? He’s a saint. I can’t imagine him not complaining about your cooking. I mean, seriously?” Kelle’s culinary skills were a standing joke between them. Kelle used the oven in her apartment to store sweaters, a mediocre cook at best.
“I know. This could be it, baby, the Big L.” A distinctive hint of glee filtered through Kelle’s voice.
“Miracles happen.” Kelle was notoriously fickle. It wouldn’t last much longer. If it did, good for Kelle.
“Mum, I do enjoy a good miracle.” Kelle’s voice went soft and dreamy. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the funeral. I’m coming straight from the airport in time to ride with you and your grandmother.
“Okay, I’m exhausted. It’s been a trying day. I’m hitting the sack.” Tisha laid her phone aside her mother’s handgun on the bedside table. She fell asleep, sleeping fitfully and woke with a strong urge to pack a bag and run fast and far as she could to avoid the finality of the funeral and shuck responsibility of dealing with weight squarely on her shoulders. Discoveries of the previous day crowded her mind mingling with paid of loss and she wanted to escape and forget everything she learned.
It wasn’t how McClain women reacted. McClain women didn’t run. They didn’t shirk obligation, desert loved ones or hide from reality. They stick around with heads held high and do what must be done.
Gran suffered a tragic life but willingly sacrificed pride and her body caring for her baby born from brutality. She did the necessary to survive, became a rock for young Roberta, and later for Tisha.
Roberta had more choices than Gran combined with ambition and understood the nasty business for what it was—a lucrative source of continual cash flow and the quickest, easiest route to a fortune. It delivered what she desired. She took care of her family, especially once widowed with a small child to care for. She did it for herself, Gran, Dad, and Tisha and provided a life filled with opportunities. Roberta lived life on the shady side and did things Tisha cringed at, like dancing in the buff for a room filled with strange men.
The idea sickened Tisha, but she began to understand. Roberta loved her. More evident every day, she would never doubt it. The story wasn’t over. Last evening she’d exhausted herself and Gran with the revelations uncovered. The rest she’d get to soon enough, and would find a way to live with her knowledge. Anger it stirred at the beginning had settled to a gnawing ache, regretting Roberta hadn’t at least given her some idea what to expect.
The past departed. Tisha must put it where it belonged.
CHAPTER 9
Ominous billowing clouds shaded the grey day, threatening rain—a fitting setting for a funeral matching Tisha’s mood. As promised, Kelle arrived in time for breakfast, comforting Tisha with her presence. She stayed by her side all day.
Tisha drove the white Camry, kept for the cook’s and housekeeper’s use. The other two spaces held Dad’s vehicles, which Roberta hadn’t found the heart to part. His 1957 baby-blue Thunderbird and his 1970 white Cadillac parked in the garage as his pride and joy fully restored to mint condition. Asher McClain had liked his cars, his babies. Roberta respected his love of cars all these years and hadn’t considered parting with them. She kept them serviced regularly.
Tisha’s hand slid along the smooth, cool fender of the T-Bird. “Dad, I hope you and Mom are happy together again. I miss you.”
Roberta’s well-loved baby-blue luxurious Lexus with white leather interior waited in the garage, ready to attend its owner’s funeral. She breathed in the scent of well-oiled, leather and a hint of window cleaner as the engine roared to life then settled to a lovely purr. Tisha proudly claimed Roberta’s vehicle and drove it to the side of the house to load Gran and Kelle.
The mortuary’s heavy floral scent and a hint of embalming fluid created an unforgettable putrid combination. The majestic, historic mansion stunk of finality of death. Taking deep, slow breaths she willed herself to not puke.
Alone with Roberta’s remains, the casket propped open for her eyes only before the crowd of mourners arrived. Surreally she rested lifeless and pale with her skin firm and cool. A fair makeup and hair job allowed the corpse to look fashionable enough as well as a dead person could.
Bizarre and dreamlike, she hardly took her gaze off her the body. When the service ended, she’d never see Roberta again. Difficult to fathom, she never broke the stare as though holding it would ward off Mom being gone for good.
Stupid thought! The mere formality of a lifeless body in a silk, padded casket wasn’t Mom. She had vanished.
In one way numb, disoriented and frozen to her seat, in another way Tisha yearned to screaming hysterically at the top of her lungs. Every nerve ending in her body surged with electricity torturing her. Her heart pounded like it would beat through her chest—so powerful.
She spoke cautiously whimpering, forcing herself to act polite and gracious, afraid to show outward emotion for fear of totally losing control. If she did, she’d never come back from it—gone for good. She behaved the way Mom taught as a lady acting prim and proper. Not letting others see her break, she determined to remain resilient, like Mom.
She kept a close eye on Gran, fearing the older woman might not be up to the task. Tougher than she looked, Gran surprised Tisha. She’d done it a lot lately.
Gran wailed seeing her beloved daughter in her eternal bed and talked quietly to the corpse. She adjusted a loose hair and patted her daughter’s frigid hand. Then she parked herself in to a front-row seat facing the display for the day. Mourners stopped to visit her at her chair, and she greeted them, thanking each for their sympathy, every bit the gracious lady her daughter had been.
The house packed with a continual flow of mourners of all ages come paying respects. The elegant room reeked of pity. Daniel Finch, the attorney, his brother Andrew Finch, the investment broker, and Daniel’s son Sam attended. Tisha bolted alert looking into Sam’s sapphire eyes full of sympathy and regret. He held her hands in his in the reception line, and she tilted her head with her brow cocked.
He knew her at the airport, but never let on. He had gall showing up here. Words not necessary to display disdain for Sam, he winced. Their eyes met. With the crowd lining behind him, he moved down the procession. Gratefully she lost sight of him.
Neighbors, Gran’s friends, and Roberta’s business associates came. Sara Johnson, Mom’s friend and curator for her Cincinnati gallery gave Tisha a warm, welcomed hug. She and Roberta had been close, Roberta’s best friend.
Surprisingly many women attended. A sizable group of immaculately groomed, well-poised females flocked in together. They chatted quietly among themselves instead of mingling with other mourners. They acted like a clan of some sort who stuck closely together. Curiously, they must’ve been very close to Roberta, because they acted distraught and cried openly the whole time. They offered respect in the procession line with an impressive level of grief. Roberta was obviously dear to these women. Tisha couldn’t help her empathy though their connection with her mother as unclear. One mentioned she worked for Roberta for many years without going into details.
Uncle Vinnie Russo stuck close by Tisha and Gran throughout the event. Mom’s right hand, close friend, and confidant, he stayed ready for whatever she needed. Part of their family and Tisha’s life long as she could remember, Tisha
loved him like an uncle though they weren’t related. Gratefully Tisha hugged the big, bear of a man standing by her side.
Uncle Tony Di’Angilo, also close to Mom and Gran, cared for Tisha as an uncle. He meandered among the crowd talking with mourners, keeping an eye on Tisha. Managing Mom’s Monmouth Street bakery as a trusted friend and associate, Mom relied on Tony and trusted him. His presence comforted Tisha, and he frequently winked at her from across the room.
Roberta disliked but acted polite and cordial with the weirdo, Carlo Tallarigo. She kept a personal distance never mentioning him as anything other than an acquaintance, but he stayed part of her life. Tisha didn’t know how so. Not surprisingly, as expected, he paid respects so it wouldn’t reflect poorly on him. Carlo gave Tisha the creeps. Hair stood on end spotting him staring more than once as though trying to get a read on her.
Why had Mom associated with Carlo? He wasn’t like Vinnie or Tony—not part of their family or business group. She didn’t know much about him, nor did she want to, and instantly disliked him. He slugged through the crowd of fashionably clad males as though he owned the club, apparently oblivious to baffled gazes and strain filtering across faces of comrades as he schmoozed the gathering.
Among the many neighbors and friends, business associates and mourners Tisha didn’t know many. She didn’t expect to. Polite and respectful, they gave condolences, wept openly and appeared sad.
Kelle leaned against her shoulder. “It’s crowded. Roberta knew a lot of folks. What did she do?”
“Funny you should ask. I’ve realized how little I knew about Mom’s business. She has real estate holdings, I think. I don’t know everything yet. An entrepreneur, real estate investor, she owned several companies from what I gather, a bakery, an antique store and the art galleries in Cincinnati and New York together. They’re mine now.” Exhaling a thick sigh, weight of her heavy load barely eased.
Tisha didn’t lie to her best friend, Kelle. Not ready to share her most recent shock yet, not wanting Kelle to looking at her differently, she didn’t confide in her. Her life in New York and everything she built must not be tarnished by the past. She didn’t want to be dishonest and trusted Kelle, but needed time to learn the rest of the story. She’d figure it out before leveling with her. It felt odd.