“That sounds dangerous, Ace,” Kandie said fearfully.
“I know. I know. I told Richey that. The thing is, he’s goin’ through with this deal anyway. The guy from Biederman’s already has agreed to the payoff. Richey wants to make sure he doesn’t try anything funny, like put a tracking device in the money bag. That’s why Richey approached me to help him. That’s why he didn’t rat us out about Hank and Melvin.”
“Does Carmen know about this?”
“No, of course not, and you can’t say anything to her. To anybody. You’ve got enough problems. I had second thoughts about involving you, but I can’t do everything. I know this whole business is a bit shady, Kandie, but it’s the only opportunity we have to get enough money to blow this town. We can go somewhere else, buy a house and start over. We can get jobs and settle down into a normal life. You, me and the kids.”
Kandie’s hands shook so badly she clasped them together. “What can I do, Ace, to make that come true. I’ll do anything. Anything!”
Ace continued to fabricate his story. “Richey wants to stay in the background on this exchange of money. He’s afraid they might try to harm him. These are dangerous people. He asked me to come up with a plan. In return, he will pay me three hundred thousand dollars. It’s about fifteen percent of the payoff.”
“Oh, my God!”
“We can buy a helluva nice house with that kind of money.”
Kandie repeated her offer with even more fervor. “What do you want me to do?”
“Well, I got to worrying that this guy making the payoff might just pretend to have the money, when he really has some cut up newspapers in a sports bag. Thinking he can stiff us. So I want you to check the money, Kandie. I’d do it myself, but the cops could put my picture on television at any moment.”
“How would I do that? What would I be looking for?”
“You know that warehouse furniture store on west Ninety-Fifth Street, just after you cross over the interstate? There’s an IHOP in the same complex.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna tell the guy from Biederman’s to park outside the IHOP Saturday morning. You be there about nine-thirty and I’ll call you on the cell phone I gave you and tell you exactly when this guy is going to show up. Figure about ten or eleven, though. He’ll be driving a silver Lexus.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“When you see him arrive, you go out and tell him you’re supposed to check the money. Don’t tell him your name, or my name, but you can mention Richey. Then, he’ll know we’re helping Richey out. The money will be in a large athletic-type bag. Just dump in all out on the backseat. It’ll be in bunches about an inch or so thick, with a band around each bunch. There should be between twenty and forty of these.”
“Wait, Ace,” Kandie said, digging around in her purse and coming up with a pen. She grabbed a napkin and started writing on it. “Go on.”
Ace repressed his laughter and continued, “In fact, there should be nothing at all hidden in the money. If you find anything, you call me.” He picked up the suitcase and sat in on the seat, between himself and the wall. He opened it and took out a pen.
“What’s this?”
“A counterfeit detector pen I bought at Staples. Use the pen to mark one bill in each batch of cash. Pick a bill in the middle of each batch. If the mark turns a yellowish color, the money is real. If it turns brown or black, it’s counterfeit.”
“And if I find any fake money, I call you!”
He beamed, like a proud parent. “Exactly. Now, take a look at this. He handed her a nine-inch metal detector wand he’d bought at Walmart, for one hundred and thirty dollars.
“What is it?”
“A metal detector. It’s powered by a nine-volt battery. Just flip on the switch and use it to go over each batch of cash — top and bottom. If there’s anything metal in there, like an electronic transmitter, or a tracking device, the detector will beep.”
“And I call you!”
“And, I’ll have a little talk with the guy driving the car. After you check each batch of money, put it into this suitcase. When you’re done, spin each dial of the lock to any other number. The combination is four, three, two, one. Easy to remember. But don’t give it to the guy driving the car. Okay?”
“Got it, Ace. Then what?”
“Leave the bag in the car, and I’ll tell the driver where to take it.”
“I could just bring you the bag.”
Ace grimaced and shook his head. “That might put you in danger.” Actually, he had once considered using Kandie to deliver the cash. But, Ace believed fervently that banker Kennedy would call the cops. Probably the FBI, too. They would be watching and waiting, just like Ace. He needed one more layer of protection, that being the ransom drop designed to freeze the cops in place, while Country delivered the money. Even then, Ace could still alter the plan if he thought Country was being followed. He would have the leverage to make banker Kennedy redo the whole ransom drop over and over, until Ace was satisfied.
“You got any other questions, Kandie?”
Kandie looked deep in thought, but finally said, “No, I understand everything.” Of course, she didn’t, and hadn’t asked many obvious questions, just as Ace had figured.
“After we take our share of the money, we’ll pick up your kids and get on the road. Okay?”
“Sure, Ace.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Let’s spend the evening together. Maybe here at the hotel? I can get someone to look after the kids.”
“Like Carmen?”
“No, she’ll be at that play Richey’s in. It opens tonight at eight. You remember, we talked about that in the mall, just outside Belton’s Jewelry?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t forget that, could I?”
“We can get a room here at the Holiday Inn, Ace.”
Ace shook his head. “They always want a credit card or some I.D. when you check in and we shouldn’t take that chance, Kandie. They are sure to have a surveillance camera near the front desk. Just think about Saturday night, when we got all that money. We’ll stay in a fancy hotel and do something special then, okay?”
Standing outside in the shadows, Ace watched Kandie walk back to 110th Street and the bus stop, pulling the suitcase behind her. He pulled a stocking hat low on his forehead and turned up his collar. He began walking back to the motel. He checked his watch and saw that it was about seven. He planned to check on Country and then take a cab downtown to The Shops. He’d arrived there about the time Richey began his performance as Willy Loman in the play, Death of a Salesman. After the play ended, Ace would begin his performance.
22/The Ordeal Begins
On opening night Friday, Richey stood backstage on one side, peeking through the curtain as the audience filtered into Cranston Hall and took their seats to watch a modernized version of Death of a Salesman. He could have been in one of the dressing rooms, sweating it out with the other actors, but over the years he found this perspective to be more interesting and inspiring. He knew that any serious theater presentation, like Arthur Miller’s masterpiece, was not really about the actors. It was primarily about the playwright’s message, and its impact and influence upon the audience watching there in the dark. Tonight, that message was: A successful life consists of successful relationships, not successful business deals. The actors certainly could enhance that message and make it more memorable. However, real success was measured in terms of how the message affected the audience and what they did to make it have meaning in their lives once they left the theater. The producers would measure success in terms of the box office receipts, but businessmen never understand the real nature of art, or its purpose.
Standing there in the wings prompted Richey to ponder again his lifelong desire — his obsession, as some called it — to have an acting career. Not that he’d ever really had one, if the definition of a career included steady work, income and positive recognition. It would never be a good career choice for any young p
erson starting out in life. The work was unpredictable and the pay generally poor, meaning that having a normal life was impossible, if normal meant acquiring the traditional symbols of success —a house in the suburbs, new car, the latest in fashionable clothing, jewelry, and exotic vacations. Career satisfaction in the performing arts was a roller coaster ride of highs and lows, at best. Truthfully, entertainment was not among the necessities of life; it was a temporary escape mechanism from the drudgeries of leading the normal life — work, marriage, relationships, raising children, paying the bills. Perhaps that’s why most entertainment increasingly was pure fluff. Most people wanted to escape, not be confronted by all the problems life presented; or worse, be compelled to think about things. The theater was a luxury for them; a place to relax and laugh. If there was a message, they wanted it to be reassuring. This viewpoint considered actors as messengers and role-players. Nonessential, marginal people.
Even actors might view their craft as a form of self-indulgence. Only now and then did the purposes of the actors and the audience converge in those few productions that significantly influenced individual choices, or social values. Even those influences were not always positive, as illustrated by the values Ace and those like him took away from some popular movies.
In the modern era of cable television and the Internet, live theater in fact was a dying institution, supported by audiences that included a disproportionate percentage of older people, who grew up in families that regularly attended staged plays, in an era before there were hundreds of television channels, the Internet and cellular phones.
While Richey stood there peeking through the curtain, he also thought about Carmen’s Offer, which was a variation of the traveling acting troupe that thrived during a bygone era. In the modern version, they’d travel the highways and byways in an RV: the actor, the painter and the girl coming of age. Living the artistic life. In juxtaposition was Marshon’s Proposal that the sole goal of human activity was to make money anyway possible, which likely would make many of life’s dreams and desires possible. That proposal applied no moral measurement to the activity or the desires. If one enjoyed it, one did it. Which approach — idealism or practical hedonism — was most likely to allow Richey the opportunity to lead his life as he chose?
As Marshon had told Richey on more than once occasion, he could continue to audition for acting parts, which was a way of begging for the opportunity to fulfill one’s desire to be an actor. Those with access to production money decided which actors to hire, and there was no recourse from their judgment. Alternatively, one made money any way possible, with preference to the easiest and most lucrative way. Then, one bought a production company and produced one’s own play or movie. Since the entertainment field overall was characterized by cultural kitsch, the odds of success were high, given the low quality of the competition and the low expectation of the theater-going, movie-watching public.
Emotionally, Richey had vacillated from one option to the other over the past week. He wanted to be an in-control individualist like Marshon, who had the confidence to do whatever it takes to achieve one’s goals. However, Richey was afraid of the consequences, which could include being killed or jailed. Marshon was in that very position right now. In fact, it was highly unlikely that the proposal was still even on the table, although Richey hoped, for many reasons, that Marshon would once again beat the odds and emerge a winner. And, that they would be in contact again.
Carmen’s offer was equally exciting and inspiring, in a different way. She, too, proposed that he take his destiny in hand: simply proclaim himself to be an actor, a one-man show. Just do it. If he did it, it was an artistic success, whether or not it was profitable. In that scenario, Richey would be playwright, producer, publicist and actor. Ticket taker and cashier. It was a daunting proposition and he thought his chances of succeeding were slim at best. They might scrape by for a while and wouldn’t that be a satisfying interlude? Because, wasn’t it really about the effort? The excitement, the moment, the now? Or, as he feared every night when he fought to escape through sleep, was it the failure that he actually coveted? Was he possibly addicted to failure? It was so much easier to bemoan the unfair nature of the entertainment industry, and luxuriate in righteous indignation — with the aid of vodka — than to actually do what one was capable of doing to reverse the situation.
Richey told some people — sometimes told himself — that he was afraid of both success and failure. But that might not be true. Sitting on a barstool, getting high and engaging in cheap talk was failure, and Richey didn’t seem much afraid of that. In fact, he seemed to embrace it, sometimes with enthusiasm.
The hubbub around him had increased in intensity, as the stage crew adjusted the scenery and props. Richey looked at his watch. It was a quarter of eight and he needed to get his makeup done. The theater was about two-thirds full, which exceeded everyone’s expectations. The patrons were talking loudly and getting restless. It was almost showtime. He'd have to put off his personal decision until later.
As it turned out, his performance was flawless, unlike the dress rehearsal, when Richey was discombobulated by the news about Marshon and Ace. Inspired by the message, and for once supremely confident of his ability, Richey rose above the chaos around him. As Willy Loman, Richey wowed the audience with a spectacular, spellbinding performance rewarded with three heartfelt, standing ovations at the curtain call.
The entire cast and about a third of the audience adjourned to a reception area located on the ground floor opposite the Westin Hotel lobby. It was about a five-minute walk from the theater. A large rock wall, waterfall, pool and in-door flower garden framed the semi-circular reception area. There was a bar, buffet and seating for about forty, although most stood and milled about in this area and the adjoining hallway. The Arts Council sponsored the reception, and used the occasion to sell tickets for future performances and woo donations from potential patrons. The chief selling point was that their names would appear in the program handed out to the audience. It would be physical proof of their economic success and beneficence.
Still in costume, Richey made a dramatic entrance with Carmen, who was resplendent in a two-piece red suit trimmed in black. He basked in the glory of another ovation from his fellow actors, theater patrons, media critics, and selected guests. They shook his hand, patted him on the back and whispered praise.
“No one ever played Willy Loman better,” one admirer said.
“No one will ever want to play him after this because they won’t be able to hit your mark, Richey.”
“You were great, really great.”
“Fabulous, Richey. Just fabulous, sweetheart!”
He turned to Carmen, and said, “What do you think, lovely lady?”
“What they said. And, you’ll be just as great doing a one-man act on the road.”
He smiled and nodded. “You don’t give up, do you, Carmen? I hope you’re right. I’m enthused, but apprehensive.”
“What have you got to lose?”
“Well, since you put it that way….”
“You are going to do it?” she asked, pressing herself against him as added incentive.
“Yes, I’ve decided.” What else could he say at the moment? Besides, he could change his mind later, should Marshon escape his current trouble. In any event, either his friend or his lover was bound to be disappointed — unless he could persuade Carmen to become a beachcomber in the Leeward Islands.
On the other hand, Carmen could hardly contain her joy. Richey really had given a great opening night performance, and validated all the faith she had in him. The reviews were bound to be positive and increase attendance at the next performance. Things were looking good, very good. They’d been standing in the receiving line for ten minutes and Richey didn’t even have a drink in his hand. He was high on success.
Carmen’s cell phone rang in her purse and she stepped away to take the call. She listened as a man identified himself as being with the Overland Park Fir
e Department. There was a fire in her apartment building and he was calling residents to notify them.
“Is the fire in my apartment?” Carmen asked, having a hard time hearing the caller, whose voice sounded muffled.
“I’m not sure how far it’s spread, but there’s damage to most of the units. You might want to get out here and see what you can save, if you have valuables that mean something to you.”
Carmen had a firebox containing various important legal documents and warranties. There were many photo albums, and a small cedar box full of letters that she prized. She told Richey the news and he said he’d go with her, but Carmen insisted he stay. “Let me find out what’s going on and I’ll try to be back in an hour. You stay and enjoy yourself. The fire may not even have damaged our apartment. If so, I’ll need to make arrangements for us to stay somewhere else tonight.”
“Go, go, then! I’ll be here. Call me on my cell phone if you need any help. And, you and Marisa can always stay at my place, for as long as you like.”
She tried not to be resentful, but Carmen wished this hadn’t happened. She wanted to stay here with Richey and enjoy the party, have something to eat, and go to the hotel room they’d already reserved at the Westin. Thankfully, Marisa was at her grandmother’s house.
Carmen had argued forcefully to persuade Marisa to attend the Saturday night performance, instead of opening night. She had finally prevailed with the argument that Richey would have opening-night jitters and needed to get one performance under his belt so he could relax. If Marisa were present, it would just increase the pressure on him. Truthfully, Carmen had not wanted to share the moment, even with her daughter. She felt immensely guilty about the deception.
Carmen rode the escalator to the third floor of The Shops, passing by Barney’s, a well-known restaurant and bar where they’d planned to eat a late dinner. The patrons inside seemed to be having a rousing good time. She continued on, walking in the direction of the theater. Before she got that far, however, Carmen turned right toward an exit leading to the parking garage and her car.
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