Spoonbenders

“Never do me a favor again,” she told him, and started packing.

He tried to talk to her all the way to the airport, kept talking as she exchanged her ticket. He even paid the transfer fee, all the while asking, “What are you saying?” As if she were speaking another language.

Only the gate stopped him. “You’re never leaving Arizona,” she said. Her anger had turned to sorrow, so that now she was a blubbering mess. “You can’t leave, not with joint custody. And I can’t just live off whatever crumbs you throw my way. There’s no future for me here.”

How could she explain? She loved their time in Hotel Land, but that wasn’t a place you could live forever. The smart thing to do was to let him go now.

“So,” Dad said to the bartender. “Is Mitzi in yet?”

Barney nodded over Teddy’s shoulder. A woman whose age was in the same ballpark as the men’s walked toward Teddy, her arms out. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said.

“That cat is my daughter,” Teddy said with a grin.

“And you’re an old dog.” Mitzi kissed him on the cheek. To Irene she said, “Now I feel old. Your dad used to talk about you.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said to Mitzi.

“She’s such a good daughter,” Teddy said. “Takes me everywhere.”

“It’s good to have a strong woman at your side,” Mitzi said.

“Talk about a strong woman,” Teddy said to Irene. “You want a role model, look no further. Mitzi’s run this place through fat times and thin.”

“Charmer,” Mitzi said. She was a scrawny bird of a woman, with a finch’s glitter in her eye. Mitzi said, “You’re not selling that UltraLife stuff, too, are you?”

“What’s that?” Dad asked. He wasn’t faking the confusion.

“Frankie started bringing it with him,” Mitzi said. “Damn if it didn’t straighten me out.”

Irene shot her father a hard look. Was this visit about Frankie, and not Graciella? But no, Teddy didn’t know what Mitzi was talking about.

“So Frankie’s been stopping by?” Teddy said.

“Oh yeah,” Mitzi said. “On a weekly basis. Mostly weekly. He’s missed a few.”

Dad seemed shaken. “I apologize if the boy’s been pushing the stuff on you. Frankie’s been so excited about it.”

Mitzi said, “You want to come back in my office and talk about it?”

Dad hesitated, then said, “We can talk in front of Irene. She knows all about Frankie’s business.”

An outright lie. Irene had no clue what was going on. She wasn’t reassured that Teddy seemed to have no idea, either.

“All right then,” Mitzi said skeptically. She took the stool next to Teddy’s. They were all sitting now, facing away from the bar. Barney had disappeared into the back room.

“So. Frankie’s visits,” Dad said. “How much are we talking?”

“You know I usually keep those numbers confidential.”

“How much, Mitzi?”

“As of yesterday, forty-nine thousand, seventy-four dollars and twenty-four cents.”

Irene suddenly realized what those numbers meant. Dad was shocked, too, to judge by his frozen expression.

Mitzi said, “I asked him not to bring you into this. He’s going to talk to Nick next week. They’ll work it out.”

Fuck, Irene thought. Bad pictures flickered in her head from a dozen violent movies. She pictured her brother trying to talk his way out of trouble, the way he tried to talk his way out of everything. He’d never learned that when he was drowning he should keep his mouth shut.

“No,” Dad said. “I’ll talk to Nick.” Irene watched her father. A moment ago, he didn’t know about Frankie owing money, but now he was putting on to Mitzi that he not only knew about the situation, but had already put a plan in motion. Teddy Telemachus, world-class bluff. That poker face made him the only person in the family who could keep secrets from her. That, and the way he dealt his words as carefully as his cards.

“You want to talk to Nick?” Mitzi asked. “That might not be such a great idea.”

“Your brother stands a lot better chance of getting the money from me than from Frankie,” Teddy said.

“It’s not that, and you know it.”

“This is my son, Mitzi. Please. Make it happen.”

—

Irene did not speak until they were back in the car. He let her get behind the wheel, for appearances.

“What the hell was that about?” she asked.

“I’m as surprised as you are.”

That was the truth. He’d dropped the bluff now that he was out of the tavern.

“I wanted an appointment with Nick so I could talk to him about Graciella. But this?”

Still, she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. “Frankie’s in debt to the mob for fifty K,” she said.

“It seems so.”

“That explains how he was able to keep Bellerophonics going so long with no customers.”

“He kept coming to me for money,” Dad said. “Third time, I told him I was tapped out and he should close up shop—work for somebody else and actually get paid. I didn’t think he was stupid enough to go to God damn Nick Pusateri. The whole point of raising kids is to make sure they don’t make the same mistakes as you did.”

There was an entire story there that she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know. Instead, she asked, “You’re not going to pay it, are you?”