Laura Resnick - The Misfortune Cookie

Accepting money from them might also open the door to their suggesting that I should think about quitting this life, and that wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with them. Partly because acting isn’t just what I do; it’s who I am. I’ll never give it up. And partly because that’s just too painful and irrational a conversation to have when you can’t afford to eat, let alone pay your rent.

So when my mom pressed me, obviously worried about my circumstances, I lied and pretended I had enough money to get by for a while. Then I changed the subject again and asked how my father’s recent speech had gone at a big conference. My mother told me about it, and I could hear my father in the background, interrupting repeatedly to correct her and provide additional details.

I smiled. My dad never really knew what to say to me, so he seldom got on the phone with me. Instead, he hovered annoyingly around my mother when she called me, so he could listen and keep interjecting the whole while. It was his way of visiting with me, and it suited us both.

After we finished discussing my father’s news, my mother turned the conversation back to me by asking whether I was seeing someone special.

“No, there’s no one,” I said, not even flinching. I had expected the question. She always asked.

I ended the call a few minutes later, after turning down one more offer to send me money.

Then I did some mental calculations, working out exactly how bad things were. I still had a little cash left over from my interrupted New Year’s Eve shift at Stella’s, but it wouldn’t last much longer, despite my careful hoarding.

However, on the bright side, at least I didn’t have to tell my mother I was involved with an Irish-Cuban cop who’d been raised Catholic. Lopez seemed open-minded about religion, but nonetheless faithful to his own; I knew he attended Mass every week. There was no way I could pretend to my mother he might convert.

So it was just as well he and I weren’t dating. If we were, I’d have to listen to my mother fret about how we’d raise the children.

Besides, his mother hated me. I’d met Lopez’s parents while I was working as an elf at Fenster & Co. And even when I thought about it long and hard, I couldn’t imagine how that encounter could have gone any worse. Not without gunplay, anyhow.

So maybe he and I just weren’t ever really meant to . . .

Oh, forget about him, would you? After all, you’re starving because of him!

Every time I found myself thinking of Lopez, I tried to focus on how angry I was at him for shutting down Bella Stella. If he hadn’t done that, I’d have a job right now. I’d be able to buy groceries, pay for utilities, and save toward next month’s rent.

Being so angry at him about that kept things simple for me. And with our relationship in tatters, my career going nowhere, and financial collapse looming directly over my head, I needed things to be simple. Thinking about the way he had treated me . . . Well, that generated feelings too complicated and powerful for me to cope with while my life was in such dire shape. So I just tried not to think about it. Not now.

I regrouped after my mother’s phone call by reviewing practical matters. Stella Butera had been released on bail, as expected. Based on her attorney’s advice, she was lying low and not talking to anyone. Some of the Gambellos who were arrested that night were considered serious flight risks and were still in custody, including Tommy Two Toes and Ronnie Romano; others had been released after posting hefty bails and surrendering their passports.

I still didn’t know where Lucky was. Which I assumed meant the cops didn’t know, either. The bust at Bella Stella was high-profile, OCCB had made additional Gambello arrests since then, and Lucky was too well-known a figure for his arrest to go unreported; but when I checked the news each day, there was no mention of him.

I didn’t kid myself about what kind of life Lucky had led, and I could only guess at how much trouble he was in, now that OCCB was really cracking down on the Gambello family. But that didn’t change the fact that I was attached to him—and, indeed, had trusted him with my life, more than once, in very dangerous circumstances. I knew he was a survivor, so I wasn’t exactly worried about him as the days passed without any word, but I was a little anxious. I also knew that even if he was still using the phone number I had for him, which seemed very unlikely, I shouldn’t call him. Lopez knew that Lucky and I were friends, which meant that OCCB knew. So it would probably be safer for Lucky if I didn’t try to contact him.

Safer for me, too, I thought, recalling Napoli’s ire when he’d ordered Lopez to arrest me. Detective Charm would really sink his hooks into me if he found evidence that I was phoning the old hit man whom OCCB was hunting.

And that’s how things still stood the following afternoon, some five days after Lucky escaped arrest. I was coming out of yet another restaurant where I’d filed a job application when my cell phone rang. An icy wind whipped down the street as I fumbled in my pocket for it, my heart giving a little leap. Even as I peered at the LCD readout to see who was calling, I was mentally kicking myself for hoping it would be Lopez.

Stop thinking about him, would you?

“Ah!” My heart gave a little leap, anyhow, when I saw who my caller was. My agent was finally getting back to me. I put the phone to my ear and said, “Thack! How was Wisconsin?”

Thackeray Shackleton (not his real name) was from Oshkosh, a town in my native state; like me, he had moved to the Big Apple after college. We had met here three years ago, when I was seeking competent representation (which is not so easy to find in my profession). A Lithuanian-American, he came from a long line of hereditary vampires—reputedly descended from Gediminas himself, the medieval Lithuanian warrior-king who’d started that whole thing. But Thack was mostly a non-practicing vampire; a debonair gay man who wore tailored suits and was first in line to try every new fusion food fad, he was much more comfortable in his adopted lifestyle as a New York theatrical agent, bon vivant, and man-about-uptown. And he hated visiting his family in Wisconsin, so I expected him to be in a sour mood. But he surprised me.

“Not as bad as I expected,” he said. “The family’s pleased with me for stepping up to the plate—sort of—during that whole crazed-Lithuanian-vampire-serial-killer mess that you and Max got me mixed up in this fall.”

“Oh, like it’s my fault when your people turn bad,” I said.

He ignored that. “Even so, there was, as usual, more ritual drinking of human blood in honor of Christmas than I care for. So please remind me not to visit my family for about five years.” I had gathered that Thack’s family was fairly casual about their Catholicism but pretty rigid about their vampire traditions. He continued, “And although we didn’t fight, there was just enough familial tension that I wanted to kiss the ground when I landed at LaGuardia.”

“Eeuw,” I said. “You really don’t want to kiss the ground there.”

“Anyhow, I’ve checked my messages and caught up on your news. I’m sorry to hear about Bella Stella, though I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. And, really, I’ve been anxious about your working there ever since that Gambello capo got shot dead at his dinner table while you were serving him.”

“But the tips were good there,” I said morosely. “And I am so broke, Thack.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much going on right now,” he said apologetically. “I was hoping things would pick up once the holidays were over, but it’s still slow. It’s the economy, I guess.”