Beautiful Life: The Carpino Series (17 page)

I laugh as I think Gabby is definitely reverting back to her eighties phase if she’s expanding her movie collection from the era and say, “Gab, Jude wouldn’t watch Sex in the City, do you really think just because you’re married now he’s going to start watching eighties movies with you?”

“He’ll throw attitude about it, that’s for sure, but I might be able to make a deal with him,” she says, distracted as she pulls out her wallet from her purse.  “Come on, let’s pay.  Tony was all pissy about us shopping to begin with when we left them with dogs at home.  I promised I wouldn’t keep you out all night.  There’s no reason to push the new
in love
Tony Carpino past his limits.”

Tossing my Madonna wears up on the counter, I grin back at her thinking how Tony was adamant about us hurrying ‘our shit’ up and not get home too late.  We pay for our eighties duds and head outside to the parking lot. 

“Can I drive?” Gabby asks.  “I love your new car.”

I grin at her, “Sure.”

Gabby drives us to the mall before we head home to her husband, my whatever Tony is and my whatever Finny is.

My life.

I guess I need to start thinking about it.  Maybe I’ll just think about thinking about it.  At least that’s a step in the right direction. 

*****

“I can’t believe this has happened.”

I look down at Jason McCurdy sitting at his desk at McCurdy Transfers headquarters.  He’s got his elbows to the desk and his head bowed in his hands and won’t stop muttering his disbelief of what we’ve found. 

It’s been just over two weeks since we started digging deeper into where the profits were disappearing, but yesterday we nailed it down to a long term employee of the company and the current Chief Financial Officer, Richard Blaton.  Blaton has woven a tangled web, but we now have proof it was him.   Over the past six years since Blaton was appointed CFO, he has created bogus payable accounts in the forms of fuel, maintenance and repairs.  He has been scheduling regular payments to these accounts and after uncovering layer upon layer, we’ve connected it to accounts linked to him without a doubt.  FBI White Collar Crimes is here combing his office, files and computers for evidence.  But more importantly, I just got the call from Omaha PD informing us Richard Blaton was taken into custody from his home under money laundering and embezzlement charges. 

He wasn’t taken into custody without drama though.  Apparently his adult son who still lives with his parents but from the sounds of it is too old to, went absolutely apeshit when his dad was arrested.  To the point where he became physical with officers.  He had to be restrained and warned if he didn’t settle down, he’d be taken into custody as well for disorderly conduct.  This was all going on as Blaton’s wife was hysterical as to why her husband was being carted away.  It sounded like it was drama all around.  I’m glad I wasn’t there for the show. 

“Let it go, Jason.  What’s done is done.  There’s still a substantial amount of money in those accounts that are now frozen.  If all goes like it should, McCurdy Transfers will get that back.  In the coming days we’ll have more of an idea where the rest of the money is and if it can be returned.  You’ll have to wait out the trial unless he tries to make a plea.  Who knows what he’ll do.  The sale of the company will have to be on hold while this plays out,” my dad explains to him.

Pulling his head out of his hands, he looks up at me, Gino and my dad, “I can’t thank you enough for finding this.  I have no idea how we let it go this long without realizing what he was doing.”

I’m thinking to myself a simple audit might’ve done the trick, but what I say is, “No problem.  You need to be prepared for questions from the press.  When it gets out you’ve lost millions over the last couple years from embezzlement, they’ll be all over this with your company being local and a major employer.”

“You’ll handle that, too?” he asks, looking at me.  “I can’t deal with the press.  I’ve got enough internal problems to focus on.”

“Absolutely,” I say. 

“My advice?” Gino starts.  “Clean house.  Fire your Board of Directors, get a team in place who can advise you.  Hire from the outside when replacing Blaton.  Make a statement to your employees and clients that McCurdy is taking serious steps to turn things around.  Tony will get with the buyer to bring the sale to a halt.  The investigation will give you and your family time to decide if you still want to sell or give it another go.  But you owe it to your employees to do everything in your power to bring things around.”

“I’ve already decided to replace my Board, I’ll think about replacing my CFO from the outside.  I need to make sure this hasn’t trickled down first and Blaton didn’t have anyone else working with him.  This will give us time to rethink the sale,” Jason says.  “Make yourselves at home, I’m going to check in with the investigators and see if they got anything from his house.”

We watch Jason McCurdy stalk out the door and I turn to my dad and uncle to mutter, “This is a mess.  There goes the sale, not that it was good for the company to begin with.”

“No,” my dad says.  “It was rash.  It’s good they’ll have time to reevaluate.  Old man McCurdy is probably rolling in his grave with what’s happened to his company.”

I nod as I look at my watch since I’m later than I said I would be.  It’s Saturday night and Joe’s party should be in full swing.  I got the call from the agent with the FBI handling the case that the warrant came through for Blaton’s arrest and it was going down tonight.  I had no choice but to kiss Leigh goodbye as she was getting ready, call Jude to pick her up and take her to the party with he and Gabby.  That was five hours ago. 

“They should be about done here, Tone.  You can go, we’ve got this,” Gino says.

“I’m good.  I need to stay and see what they find,” I reply.

“Son, you’ve looked at your watch a hundred times.  I’ll call you in the morning with an update,” my dad says.

I run my hand through my hair, “Yeah, I might go.  Leigh’s at the party by herself.”

“She’s hardly by herself, Tony.  Gabby’s with her and she’s really taken to Paige lately.  Hell, she’s a little quiet but she doesn’t have a problem fitting in,” Gino adds.  “She seems to be adjusting, even recovering from everything.”

“She is,” I agree.  “I still hate to leave her with everyone, especially at one of Joe’s parties.”

Joe’s parties are infamous.  Although she has Gabby and knows most everyone else, I still hated to send her by herself.  I know she’s come a long way but it’s only been five months.  Just because she’s getting better doesn’t mean she’s one hundred percent. 

“Go,” Gino orders.  “You’ve gotta go home and change anyway.  You really didn’t need to put on a suit for this.”

I huff out a breath and turn to grab my jacket lying on the chair next to me.  “I’m not changing,” I say dryly.  Shrugging my jacket up my shoulders, I turn back to them and announce what I know I’m going to eat shit for, “I’m going as Ronald Regan.”

Of course my dad belts out laughing and Gino looks shocked as he asks, “You’re going as The Gipper?”

Shaking my head I start to move to the door and say, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Please tell me Leigh isn’t going as Nancy.  I just can’t see that,” my dad says through his hilarity.

I turn back to them knowing I’m gonna eat shit for this for a really long fucking time and state, “Madonna.”

This time Gino belts out laughing but it’s my dad I hear yell out as I walk out of the offices, “Hail to the Chief!”

“I’m sorry, Rosa, but I’ve never heard of Miss Ellie.”

“You never heard of Dallas?”

“I’ve been there once.”

“Not the city, you young crazy girl, the soap opera!  It was the best show of the eighties.”

“Ah, the television show,” I say.  “I’ve heard of it, but sorry.  I’ve never seen it.”

Rosa, Micah and Joe’s elderly neighbor, looks up at me in grave shock as if me never seeing the show Dallas was akin to me not being privy of the checks and balances system in the democratic process that runs our country. 

“Miss Ellie was the matriarch of that show.  The
queen
.  Everyone
loved
Miss Ellie!  If I could be anyone from the television, it would be Miss Ellie,” Rosa explains, expressing that she undeniably thinks Miss Ellie is top notch.

I just met Rosa Franks, but she has attached herself to me for the past hour and a half since Gabby, Jude and I arrived at the party.  She’s bossy, opinionated and full of piss and vinegar, yet somehow it comes across sweet and funny.  She’s small, rounded and has a beautiful head of lush white hair that hangs just above her shoulders with the front sweeping dramatically across her forehead ending in a flip just between her eye and ear.  It looks a little bit like a helmet, but she works it for her age.  I’ve learned throughout my time with Rosa at our spot here on the sofa that she’s eighty-five, widowed, has three children, five grandchildren and eight great grandchildren. 

Oh, and she also likes margaritas.  After two margaritas, she’s become even more opinionated, bossy and even her vinegar is souring.  I work with my share of seniors in my job at the hospital, but I’ve never thought about what it will be like when I get that old.  All of a sudden, I’m looking forward to the time in life when I can be full of piss and vinegar and everyone will find me cute instead of thinking I’m bitchy.  How cool will that be?

“Well, you’ve piqued my interest, Rosa.  I promise to look it up on the internet,” I say, smiling at her. 

“Here’s your marg, Miss Rosa,” Paige says rolling up to us, barely righting herself before sloshing our drinks.  She comes to a halt at the side of our sofa, handing us our solo cups.

Rosa looks into her cup and complains, “This is only half full.”

Paige looks down at Rosa with a scrunched face and goes on, “Joe said you could only have half since this was your third.  Sorry.”

“Did he now?” Rosa frowns, tries to look around Paige and into the kitchen, probably looking for Joe to give him a piece of her mind.  But her eyes instantly come back to Paige and she asks loudly, “Does your mama know you’re wearin’ those shorts?  Your bottom is hangin' outta those things!”

Paige puts her hands on her hips, tilts her head full of big eighties hair saying, “This is how they wore them in the eighties.”

“They didn’t wear ‘em like that on Dallas,” Rosa mutters with her brows furrowed, clearly not approving of the shortness of Paige’s shorts.

Thank goodness my phone chimes, cutting into the eighties fashion debate and I look down to see it’s a text from Tony.

Tony:   Sorry.  I’ll be here awhile.  U ok? 

“Is that your boyfriend?” Paige asks, grinning at me.

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” Rosa accuses more than says.

“Well…” I start.

“Of course she has a boyfriend,” Paige butts in, planting her barely clad one on the coffee table in front of us.  “It’s my brother.  We’re practically sisters now.”

Rosa looks from Paige to me and asks, “How long has this boy been courting you?”

Before I could answer, Paige chips, “Ha!  Courting.  That’s an interesting way to put it.”

Rosa looks back to me with raised eyebrows in silent question, so I say vaguely, “I don’t know.  It’s been a little unusual.”

“At least since Thanksgiving,” Paige adds again.  “Wait, were you together before Thanksgiving?”

“No, not really,” I mumble, taking a long swallow of my beer, because I really don’t know when Tony and I got together.  We just kind of morphed into what we are, whatever it is. 

“Do you like him?” Rosa asks.

“Yeah, Leigh.  Do you like him?” Paige mocks. 

I squint my eyes at Paige before I look over to Rosa, “Of course I like him.”

“Is he good to you?” she asks further.

My eyes go directly to Paige and I can see Rosa’s question wiped the smartass right off her face since she knows my history with Preston.  I look back at Rosa and say softy, “Yes, Rosa, he’s very good to me.”

“Well then, child.  You should keep him.  I’m eighty-five, I should know.  The good ones are hard to find,” she informs me.

My phone chimes again, saving me from having to answer Rosa.

Tony:  Hey- R U ok?

Me:  I’m good.  Take ur time.

“Are you doing the texting?” Rosa asks again.

I look up at her, trying to suppress my grin as I hear Paige chuckle across from us, “Yes, Rosa, I’m texting.”

“I do that, too,” she quips and then looks to Paige.  “Paige, roll your naughty shorts over there to my bag and get my cellular phone,” she says, enunciating the word cellular, as if Paige would get it mixed up with her home phone. 

“Okay, Miss Rosa,” Paige says giggling. 

“My son,” Rosa starts as she looks over at me while taking a slurp of her margarita.  “He set me up with a new cellular phone.  Now I can do the texting with my grandkids.  But I can’t type with my fingers, those little buttons are too small for me.  They taught me to talk into it, so I text my grandkids all the time because they never answer their darn cellular phones.” 

“I bet they love hearing from you,” I say.

“They love me but I have a feeling they’re humoring me with the texting,” she explains.  Paige rolls back to us with Rosa’s phone and she goes on, “Here, I don’t know how, can put your number in?  You, too, Paige.  Now I can do the texting with the both of yous.”

“Rosa, should I walk you home?” Joe asks, interrupting our conversation.

She glares up at him as I finish entering my contact information into her phone and pass it to Paige, “I guess, since you’ve cut off my margaritas.”

He takes her hand and pulls her up.  Holding on to the crook of his elbow, she walks around us slowly and says, “Keep in touch, you two.  I especially want to know what’s goin’ on with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.

“I’ll even call you so you won’t have to do ‘the texting,’” Paige adds with a big smile as she hands Rosa her bag and ‘cellular’ phone.

“Take me home, Joe,” she bosses.

Joe chuckles, “Let’s go, Rosa.”

“Well, that should be fun, I love her,” Paige exclaims.   “Come on, they were starting to play games in the kitchen and I need another drink.”

Thinking I too love Rosa, I heft my tutu up off the sofa to play games in the kitchen with the Carpinos and Joe’s friends. 

*****

As I walk up the steps to my cousin’s house, I hear the party before I see it.  I’m no product of the eighties, but I’m pretty sure I hear the drums and clapping sequence from
Jack and Diane
ringing loud from the house.  It’s easy to hear since the front windows are open, meaning the house is packed and the party is going strong.  Joe’s birthday parties are normally always crazy.  I think he’s forty-two, maybe forty-five?  I can’t remember how old he is, but Joe is unquestionably a product of the eighties.  As I open the door, it’s not just the music that assaults me but also voices singing along with the music, badly. 

“Finally time you made it,” I look over to see Vic standing with my sister.  Charlotte is wearing overalls with a striped turtleneck, her hair in pigtails and she’s holding a flowerpot with a daisy in one arm and solo cup in the other hand.  Vic is in jeans with a red zip up hoodie and they’re talking to Joe and Micah’s neighbors.

“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask Charlotte.

Looking up at me she says, “Gertie.”  Then she turns to glare at her husband and goes on, “Vic is Elliott and our costumes would kick ass if he would stop tossing our ET stuffed animal in the corner.”

“Char, I could care less if you want to carry around that flower pot all night, I’m sick of holding the fake handle bars and basket with a stuffed extraterrestrial in it,” Vic sighs and looks at me.  “Why can’t Joe have a normal party?”

I ignore his question to ask my own, “You dressed up as characters that are a brother and sister?”

“Shut up, Tony,” Charlotte spits out at me.  “Nothing says the eighties like ET.  These are great costumes.”

“I told you people would say that,” Vic says to Charlotte.

“Where’s Leigh?” I ask not only to find Leigh but to move on from this conversation. 

“Why are you in a suit?” Vic asks, ignoring my question.

Frustrated with my client, my case, my night, this party and wanting to find Leigh, I run my hand through my hair while biting out, “I’m Ronald Regan.  Now where’s Leigh?”

Vic’s face screws up, “You’re Ronald Regan?”

“You should carry a jar of jelly beans.  Without the jelly beans you’re just a guy in a suit,” Charlotte chides.

“Did you bring Gorbachev?” Vic asks, smiling big.

Frustrated with every fucking thing right now, I repeat, “Have you seen Leigh or not?”

“I think she’s in the kitchen,” Charlotte says.

Vic continues to laugh, puts his arm around his wife and looking down at her says, “Okay, I gotta hand it to you baby, ET is way better than Ronald Regan.”

“Fuck,” I mutter as I turn to head toward the kitchen. 

I see Jude with his back to me standing next to Lanny and my cousin Grant.  Jude is wearing a Joe Montana 49ers jersey and a pair of jeans.  Lanny and Grant look like twins with coveralls and some kind of packs on their backs. 

I move in next to Jude, but ask Grant, “What’s with the jetpack?”

“Dude,” Grant says as he steps back holding his arms out looking at me like I’m an idiot.  “We’re Ghostbusters.  I was a baby in the eighties and even I know Ghostbusters.”

But I can’t focus on Grant because I hear her voice, but it’s much louder and higher pitched than normal.  I look toward the kitchen table and see the back of Leigh’s head.  Her golden blonde hair which is normally sleek and soft is crimped and out to there, pulled up in a big black crooked bow on the side of her head.  Her arms, covered in lace gloves with the fingers cut out, are thrown up in the air and she yells, “Bulls eye!”  Then she points across the table to someone continuing to yell, “You drink!”

“Man,” Jude says from beside me.  “They’re trashed.”

I look over at Jude muttering, “No shit?”

I hear Gabby clapping where she’s sitting next to Leigh at the kitchen table as Jude goes on, “They’ve been playing quarters for an hour.  I’ve been trying to figure out how to get Gabby outta here.  If she goes on much longer she’ll be sick and that won’t be any fun.”

Before I can answer or think about how to remove Leigh from the quarters game myself, I’m hit full on from the side. 

“Hey brotha!  Have a beer,” Paige says. 

I turn my head to look down at my little sister, way taller than her normal short self as she’s shoving a red plastic cup of beer in my chest.  I take the beer, brace as she pushes off me and I realize she’s rolling. 

She does a three-sixty informing me in a very tipsy voice, “You missed the crab stuffed mushrooms.  They’re all gone, but I think there are some spicy meatballs left.  You love those.”

Paige is on roller skates with tall white socks up to her knees with red stripes around the top.  Her top is smaller than small, tied in a knot half way up her torso barely covering her and she’s wearing tight red short-shorts piped in white stripes around the edges.  She frizzed out her normally wavy hair into a white girl afro and she looks to be as drunk as everyone else.

Ignoring the food, I frown down at my little sister, “What the hell, Paige?  Your ass is hanging out of those shorts.”

She frowns and twists looking down, as if she can see her own ass while she spins in another circle, exclaiming, “My ass is not hanging out of these shorts.”

“The hell it’s not,” I say.

Before Paige has a chance to argue with me, I hear, “Hey, Tone.”

I look away from my little sister’s over the top slutty roller skater costume, not liking the way she’s dressed, back to the kitchen table to see Leigh twisted around in her chair.  Her makeup is heavy but her face is bright and hell if she doesn’t have a look on her face like she’s fucking happy to see me.  I feel my gut tighten at the look on her face, forget about my sister and make my way to Leigh.

Her eyes follow me as I get closer, her head tipping back so as not to lose our contact and she smiles big at me. 

I lean down, cup the back of her head in my hand and kiss her, saying, “You having fun?”

She says brightly, “Yes, but I missed you.”

“Missed you too, gem.”

“Holy shit, my cousin can be sweet,” I hear from the side and look over to Gabby, who’s smiling big at us.