Jackpot! Page 15

  “I’m sorry,” she giggled, “I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch. It’s just…” She paused and put her head down.

  “Did you just get out of a relationship or something?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “I could just tell. I’m in the same situation. My girlfriend just dumped me, like last week.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, “you must be hurting.”

  The second her drink came, I made a toast. “To two people who recently got dumped, one who happens to be a complete knockout.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a big grin.

  “…And then there’s you,” I joked.

  The girl cracked up and we both laughed as we toasted and sipped our drinks.

  Over the next round of cocktails, I found out a lot about frosty pink, whose name was Susan. She was thirty-five, she worked for an advertising agency, and she had moved here from Cincinnati four years earlier. The most important thing I found out about Susan was that she really wanted a baby! Even better, Susan told me that she was completely frustrated because she didn’t make enough money. “The bottom line,” she said, “is that I want to be wealthy.”

  Now I knew I’d just hit the jackpot with this one. That’s why I wasted no time and decided to get right to the point. After a few martinis, it wasn’t hard to be blunt. “Can I be honest with you, Susan?” I slurred.

  “Sure.”

  “No, I mean brutally honest.”

  “Please…”

  “I need to have sex with someone.”

  The look on Susan’s face transformed so quickly it was frightening. She looked like she wanted to kill me.

  “This drink is about to be thrown in your face, so I would get up pretty quickly if I were you,” she said in a very low voice.

  I pleaded with her, “No…no…listen to me.”

  Susan picked up her glass and began tilting it in position to toss it in my face.

  “Seriously, Susan, listen! If I don’t get a girl pregnant in the next two months, I won’t inherit any of my mother’s money!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, this is serious. I have to have sex, lots of sex, until I get someone pregnant.”

  She grabbed her purse off the bar and stood up to go. “Sorry, this is just a little too weird for me.”

  I had to make her understand, so I stopped her. “I have a proposition for you,” I said, “If you sleep with me and get pregnant, I promise you, you’ll get rich. Plus, you’ll have a baby! This couldn’t be a more perfect situation for you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about millions of dollars. I’m willing to give you a million dollars to have my kid.”

  Susan took a big gulp of her drink. “Let me get this straight. Did you say A MILLION DOLLARS?”

  “Yup,” I said, feeling more confident than I did a minute earlier.

  “So, what do we do? Start trying tonight?” she asked.

  I looked down at Susan’s lap. Her legs were crossed and there was a slit in her skirt that was exposing one of her thighs. I found myself so focused on baby-making, that as nice of a thigh as it was, it was barely turning me on.

  “Absolutely,” I answered. Now I knew I was in.

  “So, will you give me some of it tonight?” Susan asked, throwing me a curveball.

  I was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if I sleep with you tonight, I want a thousand dollars.”

  Now I was a little weirded out. “Are you joking?”

  “No,” she said, “If I’m going to have sex with you, I deserve to be paid.”

  I didn’t know where this was headed, or what just happened here, but all of a sudden I got this strange feeling about Susan, almost like she was a prostitute. I knew I was being ridiculous for thinking this way, however, because the girl had been so descriptive when talking about her advertising position. My head was spinning, combination confusion and alcohol, but I knew Susan was my last prospect of the evening so I decided to bypass her bizarre behavior and just give things a shot.

  I stood up, put my hand in my pocket, pulled out a wad of cash and counted it. “Okay listen, I’ve got two hundred fifty bucks. What do you think?”

  “Can I see it?” she asked.

  I handed her the money and within about two seconds, she took it, grabbed her purse off the bar, and pulled out a badge and a pair of handcuffs. “You’re under arrest for soliciting a prostitute,” she said in a very different voice than she had been using all night.

  Before I could even speak, I was being handcuffed. Several bar patrons watched my arrest as Susan, now known as Officer Kay Olson of the Chicago Police Department special crimes unit escorted the suspect out of the bar. I sobered up quick, especially when we got outside and I saw the police car that would take me to jail.

  “Are you crazy? I was totally set up! This is entrapment!” I yelled.

  Susan, with the beautiful lips and high cheekbones opened the squad car door. “Get in,” she said.

  Chapter 24

  At 6:00 the next morning, I was awakened by the faint ringing of my cell phone. I jumped out of bed, wearing sweats and a t-shirt Drew had left at my place. I wouldn’t tell him I loved him, but I was so attached I had now taken to sleeping in his clothes.

  I ran around the apartment searching for my ringing phone, wondering who could be calling so early. It was either Drew or Frankie, both headed out of town today and probably calling to say good-bye or give me some last minute details. I finally located my Blackberry, which was hidden under a stack of unread mail on the kitchen counter.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Where have you been?” asked Danny. His voice was very loud and very urgent. “I’ve been calling you for hours!”

  “I must not have heard the phone. What’s up? What’s wrong? Is it Ma?”

  “No. I’m in jail.”

  “What?”

  “I’m at the police station at 44th and California. Will you come get me?” he asked.

  I stood there in shock.

  “And call that guy, Alan, Ma’s lawyer,” he added.

  My head was spinning. Where was 44th and California? Where was Alan’s phone number? Most likely it was attached somewhere on the “baby for money” contract.

  “Danny, what did you do?”

  “Nothing. I’m innocent. I’ll explain when I see you.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “And Jamie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Bring your checkbook. You know…for bail. And whatever you do, DO NOT call Ma.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, before ending the call. I stood there deciding what to do first. Call the office and tell them I might be late? I could call from the cab. And did the police actually take checks for bail?

  Quickly, I took off the sweats, threw on a pair of old jeans and headed out, wondering what on earth Danny could have done to have gotten arrested. In the back of my mind, I somehow knew that the whole baby thing had something to do with it. That’s why I had a strong urge to call Ma and let her deal with the mess she’d created. But Danny told me not to. Plus, my baby-loving mother was probably at the airport drinking mimosas, waiting for her first-class flight to board.

  The first thing I did when I got in the cab was call information for Alan’s number. Seconds after I was connected, he answered. I was shocked. I expected to get his voice mail at 6:10 a.m.

  “Alan speaking…”

  “Hi Alan, this is Jamie Jacobson. I…”

  “Hello, Jamie, how may I help you?”

  He was being extremely courteous. In fact, the way he was treating me was making me realize how much he really liked my mother. Of course, it didn’t hurt that his client was worth millions.

  “Well, my brother’s in jail. Apparently, he was arrested last night. He’s at 44th and California, wherever that is, and I’m on my way there now.”

 
At this moment, I noticed the cab driver checking me out in his rear view mirror.

  “Okay, Jamie, slow down,” Alan said, “First of all, do you need directions?”

  “No, I’m in a cab.”

  “Okay, good. Now tell me what’s going on with Danny. Where and why was he arrested?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything. He just said to come get him and to call you.”

  “Okay. One of my colleagues will meet you there shortly to represent Danny and to bail him out. You just get there and don’t worry about a thing.” Now I surmised that Ma was paying him well.

  I thanked Alan, hung up and then realized my cab driver was lost. He proceeded to drive around for a half hour looking for the place. When we finally made it there, Danny and some guy, who I presumed was Alan’s lawyer buddy, were standing in the lobby talking.

  “It’s about time,” Danny said with hostility, “First you don’t answer your phone, and then it takes you an hour to get here!”

  “My cab driver got lost. Excuse me!” I replied.

  “Hi, I’m Stan Warshawsky,” Alan’s guy said, extending his hand.

  “Jamie Jacobson.”

  “Nice to meet you. I play the lottery every Monday, Wednesday and Friday,” he said, sounding like an infatuated groupie.

  I secretly enjoyed the attention.

  Danny exploded. “I’m glad. Can we talk about me for a second, please?”

  “Yes, let’s,” I said, “Are you going to tell me what you did?”

  “I told you, I’m innocent!” he practically shouted, “Can we go? I’ll give you the whole story on the way home.”

  We got a taxi and headed north to Danny’s apartment, during which time he told me all about Susan, A.K.A. Officer Kay Olson of the Chicago Police Department, special crimes unit.

  “It’s funny,” he said, “If you’re a guy, you live your life in fear that you might get a call from some girl you slept with one night, telling you she’s got a little problem and that the two of you need to talk.”

  “Now, you’d love to hear those words, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he chuckled.

  “Danny, don’t worry about this, okay? Alan will get you out of this mess.”

  He looked at me and smiled sadly. “Listen, Jamie, it’s over for me. I don’t want the money.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, I do want the money but what I’m saying is, it’s not worth it for me. I’m a really good teacher. Plus, I’m a good actor. I have a lot going for me. I don’t need Ma’s money so much, that I have to go to this extreme to get it. And by the way, I’m not judging you in any way. You should do what you want to do. But for me, I know what I want.”

  “Courtney?” I asked.

  Danny smiled, “Yeah, Courtney.”

  I put my head on my big brother’s shoulder and I said, “That makes me happy.”

  Chapter 25

  The second I got home from jail, I walked straight into my bedroom and plopped down on the bed. The instant my head hit the pillow, I was out. I slept deeply. And I dreamed. I dreamed so vividly I was sure it was real; the person I was dreaming about was someone I rarely, if ever, dreamed about: my father.

  In the dream, there was a knock at my door. I got up out of bed and answered the door. He was standing there.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Uh, sure. Want to sit down?”

  “Okay.” My dad sat on the couch and I sat on the loveseat. “Can I get you anything? A beer?”

  “I can’t drink anything, Danny. I’m dead.”

  Suddenly, I was frightened. Was I like the kid from The Sixth Sense? I see dead people?

  “Don’t worry, son. I’m not a ghost or anything. I just came to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “First of all, I want to apologize for dying on you. The day of the snowstorm, I didn’t have to stay at school so late and work. I knew a storm was coming. I could have left early like everyone else.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I’m an idiot. If I could go back in time and change things so that I could be with all of you, you have no idea how much I would do that. But I can’t.”

  “Why are you here right now, Dad?”

  He came over and sat down next to me. Then he pulled out a picture of the two of us. In the photo, I was around two. I was dressed in a lion costume, for Halloween, I guessed. Holding me was my dad, and it was easy to see the pride and happiness in his eyes and his smile.

  “Remember this?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “This little boy was so full of love. He had so much to offer. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m really proud of you. My son’s a history teacher for the Chicago Public school district. You can’t imagine how much I respect that. All that said, for some reason, over the years, this sweet little kid turned into someone who’s afraid to love. How did that happen?”

  “What is this? Psych 101? I’m doing just fine Dad, no thanks to you.”

  “Look, I didn’t come here to upset you. I came to help you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you all these years, but it isn’t my fault. I loved you. And I loved your mother and sister, too. Don’t let my death scare you into thinking you can’t love someone because you might lose them. Good job with that girl…Jillian. So it didn’t work out. So what? Wasn’t meant to be. At least you took a chance.”

  “What do you do, Dad? Sit up in heaven and watch me all day?”

  “Yeah. And Jamie, and your mother, too. You have a problem with that?”

  “I guess not.”

  “I have one word of advice, son.”

  “What’s that, Dad?”

  “Courtney.”

  “What about her?”

  “You like her. Go for it.”

  “I think I love her.”

  “That’s the spirit! Love’s the best, isn’t it?”

  I smiled at my dad. He seemed a little nerdy, but really awesome. Truthfully, it was so bittersweet it was sickening. “Yeah, Dad,” I chuckled, “I guess it is.” I took the photo out of his hand and asked, “Can I keep this?”

  With a sad look on his face, my dad took it back. “Sorry. It’s not real. But if I’m not mistaken, you have this picture in a box somewhere. Sometime, if you’re bored and you have time to kill, dig it out.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile, “maybe I will.”

  “By the way, Courtney’s hot.”

  “Dad!”

  “Sorry, just being honest.”

  I smiled. “Is it okay to hug you?”

  “Again, sorry, Danny. I’m not real.”

  I was disappointed. I put my head down.

  “You don’t have to hug me to feel me in your heart, son.”

  With hope in my eyes, I looked up at my father but he was gone, and at that moment the dream ended. I woke up.

  “Dad…” I was saying, “Dad…”

  I sat up, still dazed and in deep thought about the dream I’d just had. I looked at the clock next to my bed. It was 11:14 a.m. I knew I needed more sleep, but there was something I desperately needed to do. I got up and practically staggered across the bedroom. Even though my apartment was the size of a small shoebox, the master bedroom closet was a large walk-in. Go figure. I opened the closet door and looked around, and then spent the next twenty minutes rummaging through things and putting them back.

  I was in search of two tin boxes. The containers had once held Christmas cookies, but now housed some of my personal things, such as old letters, mementos, birthday cards and last but not least, old photos. The tins had survived every move I’d made (and there were lots in the fifteen years since I’d moved out of Ma’s house), yet I never opened them unless I was shoving something new in there.

  I moved a couple of big boxes, (I had no clue what was in them) out of the way to see if there was anything behind them. Nothing but some framed posters I’d never
hung. Next, I got down on my knees and searched under a rack of clothes that hung to the floor. There I discovered some acting books I’d collected over the years.

  There was only one more place to look. The boxes had to be on the top shelf. I got a chair, put it in the closet, and stood on top of it so I could see everything on the shelf. Bingo. There they were. Carefully, I got the tins down, put them on my unmade bed, and began to explore. I was desperate to find the picture of me in the lion costume, the one my dad had shown me in the dream.

  During my pursuit, I came across lots of funny, entertaining things. A birthday card from Connie Kleinberg. “Dear Danny, Happy Birthday! Let me come over and give you your birthday gift in person! Love, Connie.” This instantly brought a smile to my face. A letter from Jillian. “Dear Danny, hope this letter is finding you well and happy. I thought you should know that I am getting married next month…” Blah blah blah… Who cared?

  Next came my sister’s wedding invitation. “Jamie Louise Jacobson and John Patrick Sullivan joyfully invite you to share in their happiness as they unite in marriage, Saturday, May 16th …” I shook my head and grinned.

  Then I came across a letter from Ma. I remembered receiving it just after college when I was moving to New York. I took it out of the envelope and began to read it.

  “Dear Danny, first, I want to tell you that I am so proud of you for graduating from Syracuse. You will find out later how important your degree is and how many opportunities it will help you come across. Congratulations!”

  It was as though I was reading Ma’s letter for the first time. For some reason, I had no recollection of it.

  She went on, “The main reason for this letter, though, is to wish you luck in the big apple. I admire what you’re doing, and I have no doubt that you will be a success as both a teacher and an actor, or actually, any career you wish to pursue…”

  As I continued reading, I couldn’t believe Frankie would ever write something like this. She was so supportive, so optimistic. I realized that when I got this letter all those years ago, I’d chosen to skim it instead of taking the time to really read it. Suddenly, I was ashamed of myself. I read on.