Jackpot! (11 page)

Max was waiting for my response to his news, and was enjoying it oh so much. The first thing I did was put my ring-less hand up to call for the waiter. He came right over and I ordered another wine.

“Max, what do I want?” asked Bonnie.

This was so typical. Bonnie listened to everything Max said. Even more peculiar, she actually did everything Max told her to do. Literally! When she arrived at the table and said, “Took forever to find a spot,” Bonnie didn’t mean for her own car, she meant for Max’s car. Max had actually asked her to drop him off at the restaurant and drive around looking for a spot while he came in to meet me. And she did it.

“She’ll have the house Merlot,” Max told the waiter.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Bonnie asked excitedly, as she stuck my old ring about an inch from my face again. “Max told me you were the one who said we should get back together. You’re such a good friend to him! I’m so grateful I could kiss you!” she practically screamed.

“Then do it,” said her commander.

So Bonnie reached over, grabbed my face, and planted a huge kiss on my lips.

I think I was more confused than shocked. All I could do was gaze at both my old boyfriend and his new fiancé. Max had a look of satisfaction on his face, and I realized just then how little I really knew him. He wasn’t the sweet, loveable guy I thought he was. He was out for blood.

“You know what I love about Bonnie?” he gloated, “She goes along with anything I say.” Then he kissed her on the lips. “I love you pookie poo-poo.”

“Not as much as I love you, pookie pee-pee,” Bonnie answered in a baby voice.

Nausea came over me. Pookie what?

“Pookie, I forgot my
iphone
in the car,” Max said lovingly, “Would you be a pookie poo and go get it?”

“Anything for you, Poo.”

What language were they speaking? I wondered. Pookinese?

Bonnie got up and when she spoke again her voice went back to normal, since she was talking to both of us. “I might be awhile. I parked pretty far away.”

“You’re the best, pookie,” Max yelled to her as she walked away. Alone at last. Max didn’t wait long before speaking. It was obvious he didn’t want to waste any precious gloating time.

“Happy for me?” he asked me.

“It’s only been a week!” I exclaimed.

“Hey, you’re the one who said I should do it, remember?” “How could you give her my ring?”

“Actually, it’s
my
ring. And now, it’s
Bonnie’s
ring.”

I couldn’t even respond. All I could do was continue drinking. I was fresh out of things to say. I wasn’t hurt, I was surprised. And I wasn’t angry, I was bummed. Not because I lost Max, but because if I wanted Frankie’s money, I now had to go to plan B.

I could feel Max staring at me as I gulped down the last bit of wine left in my glass. Now the glass was empty, literally and figuratively. Not half empty, all the way empty. That is, until I looked up and saw Drew Conrad walk into the place and sit down at the bar. Now the glass in my mind was suddenly half full. The wheels started to spin. My depression suddenly turned to optimism as I watched the gorgeous camera man sit down at the bar. Even better, the waiter appeared with another wine for me. Now the glass was completely full, literally and figuratively and I was feeling better by the second.

“Thank you!” I said to the waiter with delight. Then I gulped down about half the glass. I was busy drinking, but I could hear Max mumbling something about me being a lush. But who cared what he was saying? I giggled to myself. I placed the glass down on the table and stood up.

“Good-bye, pookie poo poo,” I smiled, “Have a nice life.”

Max didn’t look happy to see me go. “You’re leaving?” Obviously he wasn’t done rubbing it in.

I pulled out the
Bobbi Brown
Truffle again and put on another coat. Then I pulled my shoulders back, took a deep breath and said with all the confidence I could muster, “I’ve got work to do.” Then I headed to the bar to approach my prey.

Chapter 10

For me to dress up like a chocolate covered pretzel, obviously I was hurting for money. Yes, me, Danny Jacobson, history teacher at Martin Luther King High School, 34 year-old upstanding citizen, was now spending my weekends dressed in a pretzel costume, handing out chocolate covered pretzels on Michigan Avenue.

I was working for
Pretzel Perfection,
a tiny, no-frills candy shop, but nonetheless, a gold mine. Vito, the owner, kept the door propped open and the smell of chocolate that came out of there was delicious enough to explain the constant line of customers.

On the sidewalk in front of the shop was where I handed out the samples. It wasn’t a bad gig, except for the costume. I had to wear brown shoes, brown tights and a brown cap. The worst part was, around my middle was a big, thick pillow, shaped like a pretzel. The fabric was brown with multi-colored felt sprinkles pasted to it. I felt like a total idiot. Still, I needed the cash, so I did it.

“Chocolate covered pretzels…the best in Chicago!” I shouted, trying unsuccessfully to be enthusiastic. “Pretzels…chocolate-covered… delicious!” I continued to call out in a monotone voice, as I handed two of the little packets to a young couple.

How did I get here? I kept thinking while I worked. I’m a school teacher, one of the most respected professions out there, not to mention a gifted actor. Is dressing up like a chocolate covered pretzel the best job I can get? Would I ever get to play a respectable role? And now, with Jennifer gone, did I even have a chance at any roles?

“Delicious chocolate-covered pretzels…” I continued, realizing at that moment I might be the only person on earth who didn’t like chocolate.

All of a sudden, wearing a chef’s hat and an apron, Vito stormed out of the store.

“Listen, I can hear you from in there,” he shouted in his thick Italian accent.

“So?” I answered.

“So you suck,” he replied angrily, “Get a little more excited, would you?” Before I could respond, Vito grabbed the samples out of my hands, took over and started soliciting.

“Thick, chocolaty, creamy chocolate covered pretzels!” he shouted with extreme enthusiasm.

Two women passing by responded instantly, taking the samples with delight.

“Frighteningly fattening,” he continued, “but oh…so amazingly delicious!”

“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!”