Jackpot! Page 8

  “Thank you!” an older lady said as she took the sample and started to open it.

  Vito handed the basket of the pretzels back to the pretzel. “Get it?” he asked me, “I thought you were an actor.”

  “I am.”

  “Then act!” he yelled, as he turned around and stomped back into his shop.

  Vito was an older guy whose father (also named Vito) had started Vito’s Pretzels on Chicago’s south side in 1950. The first Vito had been in the candy business in Florence, working out of his small kitchen and selling boxes of chocolate around the town. He had moved to the states after his brother, Frank (who had moved here a few years before) offered him a job as a baker in the small Italian grocery store he had opened. It sounded like a great plan. Vito even planned on continuing to make his chocolates and sell them in the store to make extra money.

  However, when Vito showed up as scheduled at his brother’s store, the sign on the door read “closed.” Turns out, Frank’s grocery store was a cover for what became a huge money laundering venue for the local mob. Frank ended up in jail. Luckily for Vito, his parents had given him some extra money to get by until he could stand on his own. So Vito ended up starting Vito’s pretzels.

  Vito had died a few years earlier leaving the business to his only son, Vito, who ironically was a bookie at the time, but had always paid attention to his dad’s recipes. Vito junior quit his bad-boy profession and took over the business. No one could believe how talented he was in the kitchen. Plus, Vito was a great businessman. With no education past high-school and no legitimate business experience, Vito ran his dad’s business better than any Harvard Business School grad could have. In fact, business was so good that Vito eventually moved Vito’s Pretzels from the south side to ritzy Michigan Avenue. And along with the new address came the new name, Pretzel Perfection.

  Knowing Vito’s history, as much as the guy bugged me, I had respect for him. Vito took a very average business and made it extremely lucrative. Vito was a go-getter. He knew how sell himself. He knew how to find out what people wanted and he knew how to provide it. I couldn’t help but think that if Vito was in my shoes, he’d find a way to get Ma’s money. Unlike me, he’d figure it out.

  As I tried to emulate Vito’s sales techniques, I again wondered how things had gotten to a point where I was forced to dress up as Mr. Salty. I couldn’t have felt worse. That is until I looked up and saw Courtney walking toward me with a big smile on her face. She was dressed in a black suit and high heeled pumps. Her hair was pulled back and she looked stunning.

  “Do I get one?” she flirted with me.

  I pretty much wanted to die. “Uh, sure.” I handed her a sample, which she immediately opened.

  “What’s with the get up?” she inquired.

  “I like dressing like this,” I joked, “Girls dig it.”

  She giggled and right then I heard Vito shout from inside the store, “Hey pretzel man, enough with the ladies! Get back to work!”

  Now I wondered if I should go in there and kick his ass or just kill myself, so I wouldn’t have to face this intense humiliation.

  “So, how are you?” I asked her.

  “Pretty good.”

  “Sorry we’ve been playing phone tag.”

  “Me too.”

  I was just about to ask her out when I heard, “Time’s up, pretzel boy!”

  “Okay! Okay!” I shouted back. Then I turned to Courtney. “Look, when can we get together?”

  “How about tonight?”

  “Sure,” I exclaimed, “I’ll text you later. Does 7:30 sound good?”

  “Sure,” she smiled, “Can I have another pretzel?”

  I handed her several samples and watched her walk down the block. This girl I barely knew was doing something to me and I didn’t know how to stop it. And didn’t want to. It wasn’t just her physical appearance. There was something inside of her that felt comfortable to me. It felt natural. And at the same time, it was electrifying. Yes, Courtney had her hands on my heart, and I had no clue as to how that happened. Was it timing? Was it fate? Was it love? I wasn’t sure, but I did know one thing. Courtney had awakened feelings in me I never knew existed. And I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  “The most amazing, unbelievable, incredible pretzels you’ve ever had!” I suddenly shouted out with more energy than I’d had all day (or all year, for that matter) thanks to Courtney’s brief presence. I handed a few samples to passersby and then continued, “Pretzels that will please everyone’s palate!” I went on, “Serve these at your next party and your guests will be begging you for more!” My voice was getting louder and louder, and I was really getting into it now, which was satisfying my boss.

  “Now that’s a good salesman!” I heard Vito shout.

  “There’s only one word to describe these things,” I continued. An older woman stopped, waiting for her sample, but also waiting for my word. When I spoke, she put her hand over her heart. With a laugh, I shouted, “Orgasmic!”

  Chapter 11

  The price of a hot dog at Rockit, a trendy bar and restaurant in River North is sixteen dollars, no joke. The place does really well, though, and I don’t know if it’s because David Schwimmer is part owner and several celebrities hang out there, or if the dozens of different cutesy, frilly martinis on its menu attract customers. Whatever the reason, Rockit is a huge hot spot, and at the time, seemed like the perfect place for my first official date with Courtney.

  “This is so good,” she said, as she munched on the popcorn rock shrimp that came with four different dipping sauces. I loved watching her chew. Those lips… As usual, she looked hot, wearing a brown sleeveless lace tank and jeans that looked like a size zero. In my opinion, Courtney had definitely mastered the art of dressing. She had a way of looking sexy, but not slutty, classy but not boring, and simple but not unoriginal.

  “How’s your hot dog?” she asked.

  “Great,” I replied, “Since all I’ve eaten today is a few chocolate covered pretzels.”

  Courtney smiled.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” she replied.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “Does what bother me?”

  “That I dress up like a chocolate covered pretzel and take shit from Tony Soprano.”

  “Why would it bother me?”

  “Does it embarrass you?”

  “Danny, are you crazy? I understand. You need the money. I respect that. And what I respect even more is that you’re a history teacher. I want to hear more about that.”

  “Well, I really do like it. I feel like I’m good with the kids. They like me, I think. And I like the fact that I have the ability to make a difference in their lives.”

  “I admire that so much.”

  “It gets really hard at times, though. One of my best students is pregnant right now and she’s thinking of dropping out. It’s killing me. I have to find a way to get her to stay in school.”

  “That must be frustrating,” said Courtney.

  “And then there’s the whole money thing. I mean, I like going out and doing things, and I’m getting older. I want to have the means to buy things and travel. And being a teacher, I’ll never make any serious money. That’s part of my attraction to acting.”

  “I could see that, but I think you’d miss teaching if you ever left.”

  “You think?”

  “Sure. You’re doing something productive. You’re making a difference. You can go to bed every night thinking that you’ve done the world some good today. That’s a gift.”

  I smiled at this awesome girl sitting across from me, beautiful on the outside, yes, but so sweet, so moralistic, pure, almost. She was so good for me. She made me feel good about myself. She made me like myself.

  “Thanks,” I smiled, “I have something to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “My mom…she won the lottery.”

  Courtney gasped. “That cute lady is your mother?”

>   “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Wow!”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

  “And…the thing is…” I was about to tell her about Ma’s ridiculous bribe but the words wouldn’t come out. I was afraid she’d judge me for even considering going along with it. And I was afraid she’d judge my mother. She’d have to be wondering, what kind of a crazy person would put this kind of pressure on her kids.

  Courtney was ambitious, but she didn’t strike me as the money-hungry type. She seemed like she believed in hard work and earning a paycheck independently, not taking money from your mother for knocking up a chick.

  “Forget it,” I said.

  “No, tell me,” she urged.

  “No, it’s okay. Tell me something about you. Something no one knows.”

  “That’s easy,” she said. Courtney then took a big gulp of her raspberry mojito, and suddenly I sensed nervousness. She waited a few seconds and then blurted out, “I can’t have kids.”

  At first it didn’t sink in. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I can’t have kids,” she repeated. She began explaining that she had a condition that I might or might not have heard of called endometriosis, but I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. I just kept hearing, “I can’t have kids…I can’t have kids…I can’t have kids.”

  It now hit me. I was sitting here on a date with a girl I was nuts about, who I had hopes might someday have my child, who might help me collect Frankie’s millions and at the same time, be my significant other. And now, that plan was shot to hell.

  She continued, “My chances of having a baby, even through in-vitro, are like one in ten thousand.”

  I sat there semi-listening to her, but still hearing only “I can’t have kids…I can’t have kids…”

  “Are you okay?” she asked me, “Say something.”

  “Like what?”

  “How about I’m sorry, or what a bummer, or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or it doesn’t make a difference to me, I support adoption.”

  The truth was, I DID support adoption, and ordinarily, I would have been perfectly fine with having a girlfriend who couldn’t have kids, not only because settling down and having kids was eons away for me anyhow, but because I didn’t see the difference between a biological child and an adopted one. Either way, if a dude was a dad, he was a dad. Frankly, it didn’t seem to matter to me where the kid came from. But now, under pressure and time constraints from my dear, sweet mother, who was on course to drive me to insanity, I wasn’t sure if I was cool with the fact that Courtney couldn’t give me what I now needed a.s.a.p.

  I didn’t want to upset this girl, who made me want to do cartwheels around the restaurant, so I answered, “Look, I have a lot going on right now, and I don’t really want to talk about it. But, yes, that’s true. It doesn’t make a difference to me and I DO support adoption.”

  With tears in her eyes, she replied, “Thanks.”

  “And Courtney…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I AM sorry you can’t have kids. It must be hard.”

  She gave me a really sweet smile, and at that moment I realized I had a huge dilemma, and that it all came down to one question. What was more important to me, money or love?

  Chapter 12

  Rockit has two eating areas, one upstairs and one downstairs. Drew and I were eating downstairs. I was enjoying my fried tilapia sandwich and he was eating a Kobe beef burger. I had no idea at the time that my brother and Courtney were right upstairs.

  My date with the prospective father of my child was going pretty well, which wasn’t surprising. There had been chemistry between Drew and me for years, so the odds that it would sustain itself in a bar/restaurant atmosphere were pretty good. That being said, I was nervous because the stakes were high. This date had to turn out fabulously. We had to hit it off, or at least he had to think we were hitting it off if I was going to seduce him and eventually have his baby.

  Drew and I had ended up talking for over an hour the night I ran into him at Topo Gigio. In fact, the way we were flirting with each other, it would have been easy for me to take him home and sleep with him that night. I didn’t want to do that, though, because I realized that getting pregnant took more than a one-night stand, unless of course, I was on Days of Our Lives.

  I couldn’t take a chance that Drew would think I was easy, possibly causing him to lose interest. That’s why I knew I’d have to go the whole nine yards and feign a romantic relationship with him. So after a couple drinks that night, I told him I was tired. While kissing him good night on the cheek, I whispered in his ear, “I’d really like to see you again, and not just in the office.” I actually felt like I deserved an Academy award for my genius seduction technique.

  The next day at work, however, I was shocked. Drew didn’t talk to me all day. No visits to my office, no following me around, not even in the minutes just before the lottery drawing when Drew was doing a white balance of me, did he mention anything about the night before.

  It wasn’t until late in the day that I heard from him. I was in my office checking my e-mail and scrolling down the list of new e-mails, past the daily rejection letters from agents and producers and past some junk, when I came upon one from: DrewC@WGBstudios.com. My heart skipped a beat. In all the years we’d worked together, Drew had never e-mailed me. There had never been a reason. Now, apparently, there was.

  I clicked on it. It read, “I’d really like to see you again too, and not just in the office.” And that is how Drew Conrad, a guy I swore I’d never go out with, ended up seated across from me at trendy Rockit.

  “So tell me about Max,” Drew said.

  “What about him?”

  “Why’d you dump him?”

  “I didn’t dump him. I broke up with him. There’s a difference.”

  “Okay, why’d you break up with him?”

  “Because I didn’t love him.”

  Drew put his burger down and began clapping his hands.

  “Stop,” I said with a giggle, scanning the room to see if anyone was looking at us.

  Drew laughed, “I’m giving you a round of applause for finally realizing that.”

  I smiled.

  He went on, “And for realizing you and I needed to give it a shot.”

  My smile vanished instantly, the look on my face turning to terror.

  “Why are you so afraid of me? Actually, why are you so afraid of men? Was your ex-husband that much of an asshole?”

  “Yes, he was. Subject change. Did you hear about Kevin Beckerman? He’s leaving the station and going to work for WLS radio.”

  “I don’t give a shit about Kevin Beckerman,” he said. Then he looked me right in the eyes and said softly, “Talk to me,” and I pretty much found myself melting. I wanted so badly to open up to him. I couldn’t, though. This was business.

  “I’m not afraid of men.”

  “Well, you don’t really like them.”

  “Why do say that?”

  “Two words. Lucy Chi.”

  “What about Lucy Chi?” I asked, although I already knew he had me.

  Lucy Chi was the entertainment reporter for WGB. About a year earlier, she was dating a guy she thought she was probably going to marry. She brought him into the station to meet everyone on a Friday afternoon, seeking approval from all of her co-workers. So on Monday morning, she popped her head in my office and asked, “What’d ya think?”

  I stopped what I was doing (checking my e-mail rejection letters) to give Lucy my full attention, and said, “He seems great.”

  “What about looks?” she asked next, “Do you think he’s cute?”

  “Very,” I said with lots of enthusiasm. He really was.

  “Thanks, girlfriend!” Lucy said with a smile, as she moved on to hear other opinions.

  At that moment Drew walked into my office. He yelled after Lucy as she walked down the hall. “He’s a hottie, Lucy!”

  L
ucy turned around. “Thanks, sweetie!” She was ecstatic.

  “I’m happy for her,” he said to me, “The guy seemed pretty cool, huh?”

  I barely looked up from my computer. “Looza…” I said.

  “What?” Drew defended, “No! He seemed like a good guy!”

  “Whatever,” I said, apathetically and without looking up.

  “Am I missing something?” asked Drew.

  I finally looked up. “He seems too perfect. You know, too nice, too good looking, too…I don’t know. What’s the word I’m looking for?”

  “Bitchy?” said Drew with a chuckle.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, I thought you were looking for a word for yourself,” he joked.

  “I just don’t trust guys like that.” And that was the end of the conversation.

  Lucy Chi ended up marrying the guy. Currently, she’s pregnant with twins.

  “Okay, fine,” I said to Drew, “I was wrong about Lucy Chi’s husband. But there are a lot of jerks out there.”

  “And there are a lot of really great guys, too. Like me!”

  God, he was cute! But he wasn’t marriage material. He wasn’t polished. Or ambitious. And he wasn’t Jewish. Ma would hate him, I kept thinking. But I didn’t hate him. I liked him. And now, I needed him. And as sad as it was to say, I needed his sperm. I wanted to kill my mother right now. I wanted to shout, “How could you do this to me?!”

  But then I had a really nice thought. I realized right then, if Drew did end up getting me pregnant, and if I did have his baby, I wouldn’t only get Frankie’s money, but I’d get sweet revenge, as well, because if Drew was the father of my child, he would be in our lives forever. Frankie would have to see him all the time! That was the silver lining.

  “So, how about you, Drew? Have you ever been in love?”

  “Twice. My first love was Mrs. Lefler, my fourth grade math teacher, and the second was Monica McGrath.” He paused for a second to reflect. “She broke my heart.”

  A girl breaking his heart? I couldn’t even imagine, but he looked really somber at this moment. “Tell me about Ms. McGrath,” I said.

  “Actually, I was talking about Mrs. Lefler,” he joked, “She wasn’t that much older than me, you know. I was nine, she was twenty-five or so. It could have worked.”