Thieving Weasels - Billy Taylor Page 0,30

was how I felt at that moment.

But hey, there was a Never Ending Pasta Bowl in my future, so at least I had that going for me. The hostess led us to our table, and as we sat down Jackie turned to me and asked, “Did those guys really just repossess your car?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Wow,” she said with just the hint of a smile. “That really sucks for you.”

15

IT TOOK TWO BUSES PLUS A TWENTY-MINUTE WALK TO GET to Shady Oaks the next morning, and by the time I arrived I was as depressed as I had ever been in my life. I know it sounds crazy, but even after Uncle Wonderful kidnapped me, and my cell phone went dead, and I read the e-mail obliterating my scholarship, I still thought I could somehow beat my family at their own game. But as I rode the N81 along Sunrise Highway and watched the parade of unhappy souls trudge on and off, I knew the O’Rourkes had won. No matter how I looked at it, I was back to being a thief.

“That son of a bitch!” my mother yelled when I told her about my car getting towed.

“Who?” I asked.

“Who do you think? My no good, lousy brother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He was supposed to keep up the payments until I got out of here. I gave him power of attorney and everything.”

“You signed over power of attorney to Uncle Wonderful?” I said with a laugh. “No wonder you’re in Shady Oaks.”

“Save it, and hand me your phone.”

I did as my mother asked, and as she put my temporary cell phone to her ear I leaned in a little closer to make sure she was talking to a real person and not just faking the conversation.

“Wonderful?” she shouted into the phone. “What’s this I hear about Sonny’s car being clipped? I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here, but it’s stopping right now. You hear me? What?” A look of concern crossed her face. “Really? It costs that much a week? Couldn’t you have found someplace cheaper?” She listened for a moment and said, “No, no, I’m sure you did the right thing.”

It was an excellent performance, and I couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. Not that it mattered because I knew I would never see that Mustang again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, handing me the phone. “Wonderful used your car money to pay for this place. You wouldn’t believe how expensive it is.”

“Doesn’t your insurance pay for it?”

“Yes and no. We tried to pull a Medicaid scam—which was why we used my real name in the first place—but it doesn’t cover half as much as we thought. The way things are going, I might even lose the house.”

“I’m sorry, Ma.”

She looked down at the floor and sighed. “I’m the one who should be sorry. The house and car were for you. It all was.”

“I know and I really appreciate it,” I said, taking her hand. “It’s not your fault Uncle Wonderful got to Grandpa Patsy’s storage locker first.”

I could feel her grip on my hand tighten ever so slightly and she asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Grandpa Patsy’s money. I just assumed Uncle Wonderful took it. I mean, otherwise paying for this place wouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“Riiiiiiiight.”

The best thing about lying to a liar is watching their face as they try to measure the angles. Maybe my mother wasn’t 100 percent certain that I’d taken the money, but she was 100 percent certain that Uncle Wonderful would have taken it given the opportunity. She put an unlit cigarette in the corner of her mouth and said, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I ran into Sal DeNunsio. He could be the answer to all of our problems.”

Nice comeback, I wanted to reply. Instead I said, “Yeah, talk about winning the Irish Sweepstakes.”

We put on our coats and went outside to hit the gazebo. The sun, the breeze, and the barking dog were still there, but they now felt as inviting as the view from a jail cell. I tried to keep a smile on my face and was doing a pretty good job of it when Roy appeared.

“Hello, Royston,” my mother said. “What brings you to Shady Oaks so early?”

Roy handed her a bag of M&M’s and said, “Somebody’s gotta give this car-less loser a ride home.”

“You always were a good boy.”

“Thanks, Aunt Sheila.”

We dropped off my mother at the O’Neil Pavilion, and I followed Roy to the