"About what?"
His voice sounded embarrassed, even over the phone. "I checked with the alarm company."
"And?"
"I made a mistake. If you want your job back, it's yours."
"I'll have to get back to you on that one."
"I understand." He took a breath, looking for something to say. "What are you doing tonight, my boy?"
"I got another private party to dance."
"Yummy, how exciting."
"Maybe for them. Sure as shit not for me."
"Then why do it?"
"I need the cash."
"We each have our crosses to bear," he said. "Yours is getting paid to wiggle your winkie in front of a crowd of horny men. My cross is being so wonderful."
"I thought yours was being too humble."
"That, too. Please donāt hate me because Iām beautiful."
"Yeah. There's plenty of other reasons."
"True. If it's any consolation, Mike, I'm sorry I acted so hastily."
"Shit happens, as my Dad used to say."
My brothers and sisters and I were sweating like pigs in the front room of our place.
Ma had bundled us up for that night. Pop said he was taking us to the movies. "Jaws" started at eight o'clock.
It was seven-thirty.
No Pop.
"Come on, kids," Ma said. "Let's go. Your father can meet us there."
The six of us went downstairs and out onto the street. We walked towards our car.
The windows were fogged up and it was rocking.
Ma stopped us. "Kids, stay here."
She walked slowly over to the car, alone, close enough (I found out later) to see my father and his bimbo of the week getting it on in the back seat. She kicked a dent in the side of the door with her snow boot and walked back to us.
"Weāre taking the subway, kids. Come with me."
"What about Dad?" I asked, clueless.
"He doesnāt want to go," she said. "Keep moving."
