Jackpot! Page 9

  As I sat here laughing, I felt like I was out to dinner with a good friend. “So seriously, tell me about Monica,” I said.

  When Drew responded to the question by chugging his martini, I knew it was going to be a bad story. He began, “Monica and I met at a bar several years ago, and we dated for awhile. We were getting pretty serious. I mean, I went nuts over this girl.”

  “That sounds pretty good so far,” I said.

  “It was.” He then took a deep breath before continuing, “Then I introduced her to my family. My dad and my brother.”

  Silence. It seemed as if Drew couldn’t even go on.

  “Oh, I get it,” I said, “They didn’t get along with her.”

  Drew let out a fake laugh. “Actually, it was just the opposite.” He took a big chug of his drink. “Monica and my dad hit it off a little too well, and…they ended up getting married.”

  “What?” I asked in disbelief.

  Drew just nodded and smiled sadly.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean, I knew you then, right?”

  “Yeah. I think it happened right before I started at the station. I kept it to myself. It was just really personal. And embarrassing.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I said softly.

  “Thanks. I’m cool with it. They’re still together so I guess they’re really in love.”

  “Can I order another drink?” I asked. Then, as if we were on cue, we both just burst out laughing. The two of us laughed and laughed for a long time. And it felt really good. And I think it felt good for Drew, too.

  After we were able to control our laughing attacks, I said, “I still can’t believe you’ve never said anything about her, in all the time we’ve known each other. Is that the reason you never have girlfriends?”

  “I have girlfriends.”

  “Yeah, for like a week at the most. You’re like my brother. He’s a commitment-phobe too.”

  “I’m not a commitment-phobe.”

  “Drew…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wish you would have told me,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” he said, looking right at me with a grin.

  I put my hand on his. This was the best first date I’d had in years. I’d gone into this for sex, a baby and eight million dollars, never expecting to really enjoy the person I was using to get it all.

  Then, just as I was about to suggest that we go back to my place, Drew pulled his hand away and began to hold his stomach. My first thought was that the story he’d just told me upset him so much, that he was going to be sick. Seconds later, he looked like he was in pain.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine.” He was unconvincing. “Can I ask you something, Jamie?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why are you here with me? I mean, why now, after all this time are you interested in me?” he asked.

  “How do you know I’m interested in you? Maybe I just wanted a free dinner,” I joked in an attempt not to blow my cover.

  Drew smiled at my humor, but wouldn’t give up. “Seriously. Tell me. Why now?”

  I started to panic. What was I going to say? Lucky for me, I didn’t have to say anything because Drew started to hold his stomach again.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He stood up. “Actually, no!” Then he ran from the table and made a b-line straight for the men’s room. I didn’t want him to be sick, but I was hoping he wouldn’t be back for a few minutes, so I could have time to make up a lie.

  Chapter 13

  In my opinion, food poisoning is the number one excuse to get out of a date. It’s the perfect illness to get when you need a quick exit from a bad situation. It comes on quickly and doesn’t last for more than twenty-four hours, so if you run into the girl or any of her friends the next night, there’s no reason for them not to believe you’re feeling back to normal and well enough to be out. I shared my theory with Jamie when she told me Drew got food poisoning and had to leave the restaurant the night before.

  “I really don’t think he was faking,” she responded.

  “Then why didn’t YOU get food poisoning, too?” I asked her.

  “We ate different things,” she explained, “I had tilapia, he had Kobe beef. I’ve heard of a lot of people getting sick from that.”

  The two of us were sitting cross-legged on the wood floor in the middle of our mother’s almost empty condo. There was barely any furniture left in her place, as Ma was executing her other post lottery winning plan; re-decorating her condo. She had hired a decorator and earlier in the week, the two of them had bought several floor samples from various furniture stores around Chicago. So, all new furniture was being delivered from Ethan Allen, Macy’s, and Walter E Smithe.

  As Jamie and I talked about the specifics of what Kobe beef really is, we could hear Ma talking on the phone in the kitchen.

  “I’m interested in the Royal Ruby Metallic,” she was saying.

  “What’s she talking about?” asked Jamie.

  “No clue.”

  Ma spoke again. “Well, what colors do you have in stock?”

  “It sounds like she’s buying a car!” Jamie exclaimed.

  “I am,” answered Ma, as she burst into the room, the phone still up to her ear. “Sorry,” she said into the phone, “I was talking to my children. What were you saying? I heard Golden Almond Metallic and Black something.”

  When I saw my mother walk in, I couldn’t believe it. She looked almost transformed. Dressed in high heels and a very expensive looking suit, she strutted across the room with confidence, showing off her brand new look. Her hair was different, she had more make up on than usual, and she had this air about her that was filled with self-pride.

  Don’t get me wrong. Frankie had always been a pretty woman, especially when she was younger. And even as she was aging, she had always stayed thin, and she had always kept herself looking good. She didn’t overdo it, didn’t wear a lot of make-up, didn’t buy expensive clothes, and wasn’t into plastic surgery (unlike most of her friends) but she always looked nice. Ma was naturally pretty. She didn’t have to try. And she would always say, “The women who have money to burn are the ones who look the best.” Now, Frankie Jacobson was a woman who had money to burn and it showed. Nevertheless, as shocked as I was about her appearance, I had to admit she looked pretty damn good.

  “Ma, what’s the deal? New hair? New clothes?” I asked her.

  Frankie put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Shhh, give me a second,” she scolded. Then her hand came off the mouthpiece and she resumed her conversation. “Golden Almond Metallic sounds pretty. I’d like to see that one.”

  “You’re buying a car?” I asked.

  Frankie nodded as she wrapped things up. “That sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine?”

  Now I was flipping out. “Ma!”

  “Shhh!”

  “Thank you very much,” she said, ending the call, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Hi kids. Get up. I can’t bend down to kiss you.”

  Both Jamie and I obliged.

  “What are you buying?” Jamie asked.

  “A Lexus,” Frankie said proudly.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I can,” she answered, sounding annoyed.

  “You look so beautiful,” said Jamie, “Your hair…”

  “Your suit…” I added.

  Frankie modeled her new look by giving us a quick twirl. “You like it? It’s Chanel.” Then she brushed the palm of her hand by the bottom of her bob. “And I got my hair done at Elizabeth Arden.” She said Elizabeth Arden like it was our first time hearing it.

  “You look nice, Ma,” I smiled, “You really do.”

  “How’s the baby-making coming along?” Frankie asked, “Any news yet?”

  “Ma, it’s only been a couple weeks!” Jamie answered.

  Just then, Frankie’s phone rang again. She looked at the caller ID.

  “I need t
o take this. Tiffany’s…” Then she answered, “Hello? Yes, this is Frankie Jacobson. Thank you for returning my call.” She continued her conversation while she walked out of the room again.

  Jamie and I sat back down on the floor. Now I was completely bugged.

  “Why are we bothering to try to have kids?” I said loudly, in hopes my mother would hear, “she’s going to spend it all!”

  “Do you remember when grandma first moved in with us?” Jamie asked me.

  “How could I forget?”

  “Nice attitude.”

  “Sorry. Yes, I remember. Why?”

  “I was pretty young and I don’t really remember our lives before grandma moved in. But I do remember something very clearly; you, me, and grandma sitting on the couch…grandma in the middle… and she would be scratching both of our backs at the same time.”

  The memory of this made me grin. “Yeah, I remember that.”

  “And mom wasn’t around that much. Where was she?”

  “She was working.”

  “That’s my point,” said my sister, “She was working all the time. Think about it, Danny. She ran the gift basket business out of our basement, and she also worked for Dr. Schneider. Cut the woman some slack. She’s struggled for money her whole life. Now it’s time for her to spend HER money and enjoy it.”

  I realized my sister was right. The woman who had started and maintained a gift basket business out of our house, who was also a receptionist in a dentist’s office, all to support us financially and to be able to send us to college, truly deserved the money she’d won.

  “Look,” I replied, “I’m happy for our nouveau riche mother. But I still strongly object to her using her new money to bribe us and ruin our lives.”

  “How’s that going for you?”

  “Well, I’m totally into this girl and wouldn’t you know, she can’t have kids.”

  “Really?”

  “Ironic, huh?”

  “I’m actually more surprised that you just said you’re into a girl,” said my sister.

  “I know. I can’t believe it either.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Well, actually, I broke up with her.”

  I put my head down as I thought about how disgusted I was in myself. I’d called Courtney that morning and told her I couldn’t see her anymore.

  “I really like you, it’s just that I’ve got major issues and I need to deal with them.”

  Her response had been like taking a bullet. She’d said, “It’s because I can’t have kids, isn’t it?”

  “No, I swear!” I’d defended myself.

  “Danny, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m really sad about this, but I’ll be okay. I get it.” She finished with a sad chuckle, “You’re holding out.” Then she hung up and I’d wanted to shoot myself.

  “So I guess I’m choosing money over love,” I said to Jamie.

  “You don’t have to,” she said, pity in her eyes.

  “Yes, I do,” I replied, “I want to have money. I’m thirty-four years old and I live in a shoe box. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired of dressing up as a fucking pretzel on the weekends. As far as women, it never works out with them anyhow. So I’m picking the sure thing. Cash.”

  When I said it never works out with women, Jamie knew exactly what (or I should say, who) I was talking about; Jillian, the only girl I’d ever loved.

  I met Jillian while living in New York. It was at a wine-tasting event. Actually, Jillian was a guest at the event and I was a wine pourer. She tapped me on the shoulder and asked me for a pour of the 1998 Blackstone Cabernet I had in my hand. When I looked at her I went numb. She was so cute! I could tell by the look on her face that she wanted more than just a glass of wine. So I asked her for her phone number.

  Typically, I’d have asked her to stay until my shift was over with the intent to take her home with me. But I wasn’t in a hurry with Jillian. She seemed sweet and pure. Shit, how could she not be? She was a pre-school teacher! I was sure she’d never had a one-night stand in her life. So, as unusual as it was for me, I chose to ask her out on a date, not caring if we were going to have sex afterward.

  We ended up going out and having a great time. At the end of the night, all I got was a light peck on the cheek, and that suited me just fine. We went out for the next five nights in a row, and every night I got a peck, until the fifth night. Jillian took me to bed. I finally got to touch this beautiful girl. And to my surprise, it wasn’t at all what I expected. It was better. I was in love with her. I knew it right then.

  We dated for a few months. Things couldn’t have been better. Then, like an unexpected hurricane, Jillian’s old boyfriend came back into the picture. The guy started pursuing her, calling all the time, sending flowers every other day, and showing up at her place, even when he knew I was there. In my opinion, the guy was a stalker and Jillian should have called the cops and had him arrested. She didn’t, though. Jillian didn’t see her ex as a psycho. She was actually touched by all his efforts. I couldn’t believe how she kept defending him.

  “Please don’t hate him, Danny,” she would say, “He was really confused when he broke up with me. He’s different now.”

  Speaking of “different now”, that’s what I was starting to think about my girlfriend. She had no backbone. The old boyfriend had dumped her a couple years back and married some other girl. Now he was divorced and back to claim in his words, “the one who got away.” Jillian was taking his side more and more, and things between us were becoming rocky.

  Finally, one night when we got back from dinner, the guy was waiting in her lobby, holding up a big jam box over his head like John Cusack did in the movie, “Say Anything.” The second he saw Jillian, he put the box on the doorman’s counter for a second, pressed play and put the box back on his head. The song, “In Your Eyes” began to play. I couldn’t believe it. The doorman just sat there, and Jillian began to cry. Apparently, “Say Anything” was both Jillian and the guy’s favorite movie. All I could do was walk away. The sad part was, Jillian and her ex didn’t even notice me leaving. To this day, I can’t even look at John Cusack.

  When I moved back to Chicago, I was still heartbroken about Jillian. And looking back, I think I made a subconscious decision to take my pain out on every other woman in the world by keeping them at arm’s length, never allowing myself to be vulnerable again. Yes, with women I was charming and sweet on the surface, but when it came to any kind of commitment, or being someone any girl could depend on for anything other than a good time under the sheets, I had mentally checked out.

  Except for Courtney. She made me want to be one of the good guys again. Courtney had changed me from the guy who didn’t care to the guy who cared deeply. But now, like my mother’s sudden physical transformation, I’d quickly changed back to the coward.

  “Look, Jamie, we’re not talking about a few hundred dollars. This is EIGHT MILLION BUCKS. Yeah, I like this girl, but I don’t even know her. Is she really worth risking that kind of money?”

  “Only you can answer that,” said my sister.

  “My mind’s made up. I made a few calls and I have three dates lined up this week. I don’t want to do it, but I am.” I put my head down in shame and added, “Just so you know, I hate myself right now.”

  All of a sudden, I heard a guy shout, “Jacobson?” I looked at the propped open door and there stood a guy holding a clipboard.

  “That’s us,” I answered.

  “Delivery from Macy’s,” said the guy, “I need a signature before I bring it in.”

  “I’ll sign,” said Jamie, standing up, “My mother’s on the phone in the other room.”

  A few minutes later, two guys were coming through the door. “Hold her steady,” I heard one delivery guy say to the other, “I’ll back in.” When I got a view of what they were bringing into Frankie’s condo, my jaw hit the ground.

  “Wait a minute,” I shouted, “A woman with no grandchildren
bought a crib?”

  Jamie shouted bitterly, “It’s against all principles of Judaism to bring a crib into the house before the baby is born!”

  “Or before it’s conceived!” I added.

  My sister sat there, a hopeless look on her face. Then she asked me, “Does food poisoning really only last twenty-four hours?”

  Chapter 14

  I found myself checking my Blackberry for texts or missed calls all day. ‘Would he call?’ I kept wondering. Other than the sudden onset of food poisoning, our date had been great. So, of course he’d call! But When? I was feeling quite desperate to hear from him, and I hated to admit it but it wasn’t all because I needed to have his baby stat.

  When I got home from Ma’s place, my phone finally rang and I figured it was Frankie calling to make sure I got home okay. It was a given that she checked in with me every time I left her place, just to make sure nothing happened in the ten minutes it took to get from her condo to my apartment. I looked at my Blackberry. “Unknown Caller,” it read. That’s how I knew it was Frankie.

  “Hi Ma, I’m home,” I answered the phone.

  The caller disguised his voice to sound like a high-pitched older Jewish woman with a heavy New York accent. “Thank God honey. I was worried!” said Drew.

  I giggled. “What’s with the New York accent?” I asked him, “We’re from here.”

  “I was just trying to do the Jewish mother thing,” Drew said in his normal voice.

  “Other than the accent, not bad,” I responded, “She really does sound sort of sound like that.”

  “Maybe I need to meet her to see for myself.”

  “You want to meet my mother?”

  “Why not? I’ve always heard that girls eventually turn into their mothers.”

  “Well, please shoot me if that happens.”

  “She can’t be that bad,” he replied.

  I couldn’t help but think that if he knew about the baby scheme, he’d retract his statement.

  “So, how do you feel?” I asked.