Page 4 of Married into the Mob
“No!” Both Aunt Louisa and I reared away from the sting of my uncle’s wrath. “You’ve been lying to me.”
“No, Stan.” My aunt had found her voice. “We protected you.” She took my hand. “Odell and I have worked so hard, six days a week, so you wouldn’t stress about money and medical bills mounting up. We did our part.” Her voice rose to screech level ten. “Now tell Odell how you threw our hard work, love, and devotion in our face.”
My aunt had always been the strength in their marriage, and she was demonstrating the toughness that had kept their relationship alive after her husband’s accident.
The bitterness my uncle exhibited when I arrived evaporated, as though it’d been pricked, like a balloon.
“I’m not angry at Odell, just?—”
“Stan, just say it,” my aunt pleaded.
He hung his head. “It wasn’t supposed to… it was just one bet.”
My body jerked backward. The words “just” and “one bet” spelled doom. There was never just one, and there were peoplein our neighborhood whose lives had been ruined by gambling. Like alcohol and drugs, it was a life-altering addiction.
Neither of them had to say anything else. Uncle was in debt and probably to pretty scary people because he didn’t have a credit card and nothing of value to sell. He couldn’t barter his services to reduce what he owed, and money that went into our shared bank account never stayed long. Besides, whatever was in there didn’t amount to much.
“Who are you on the hook to and what’s the dollar amount?”
“It was a sure thing, and he lent me money.”
I put my hands over my ears. The clichés spilled from his lips as he tried to minimize what he owed and to whom.
“Just tell me.” My screech reverberated around the room. We never raised our voices with one another. All three of us were acting out of charactertonight, but stress did that.
“It’s big.” My aunt’s shoulders slumped as she gazed at me with tears sprinkled on her lashes. She coughed, a condition brought on by the paint and who knew what else in the apartment.
“But I have a solution that will set us free.” Uncle’s face lit up.
“Another sure thing?” I snapped.
“This is guaranteed.” He lowered himself at my feet, his knees creaking as he moved. “The guy made me an offer.”
A loan shark wanting to help my impoverished and disabled uncle who was in debt up to his neck? Right. One in a bazillion. Not!
“What? Does he want you to become a drug mule?”
Uncle reacted as if I’d slapped him. I experienced a twinge of guilt for shouting, but I couldn’t let him go through with whatever madcap scheme he was considering. We could go to the police, but if he had already done something illegal—been involved in a gambling den?—he might be arrested.
Or we could flee the city. The money we had would get the three of us on an overnight bus somewhere, but we’d have no income, no cash, and no food. That wasn’t happening.
“It’s simple, legal, and afterward we’ll have enough money to buy a small place. Your aunt can retire.”
I buried my face in my hands. Another sure thing!
“Just tell him what you’ve arranged.” My aunt’s hard voice sent goosebumps crawling over my skin.
“Marriage.” Uncle said it so proudly, as though he’d achieved something through hard work.But the pride didn’t extend to his eyes.
“That’s bigamy.” I adored my aunt and uncle, though in the last thirty minutes, he’d gone down in my estimation, But neither of them were a “catch.” Middle-aged and with no money, no prospects, and one of them disabled. I’d give my life for them, but the rest of the world didn’t see them that way.
“You!” Aunt Louisa’s disembodied tone was more worrisome than the one word she’d spoken.
“Me what?”
“He’s arranged for you to marry the guy who lent him the money.”
I leaped up, forgetting I was gripping the tablecloth, and a vase, plate, and keys clattered to the floor, the porcelain shattering into tens of pieces.
