Spoonbenders

The van was not exactly tidy. Frankie had the kid clear off the passenger seat: a roll of Cat 5 cable; a trio of Toshiba phones, their cords tangled like a rat king; an administration manual; half a dozen boxes of UltraLife Goji Go! powdered goji berry juice. “Just throw that shit behind you.” The back of the van was crowded with UltraLife boxes. Loretta didn’t know how many he had in there. He hoped.

The job site was out in Downers Grove, in the western suburbs. They headed south on Route 83, and Frankie rolled down the window and lit up a cigarette. His stomach was in knots. The wad of cash in his front pocket burned like a radioactive payload. It was going to be a hell of a day, but he’d have to keep up appearances for Matty.

After a while, the kid said, “Uncle Frankie? When did you start—?”

Didn’t finish the question. Frankie glanced over. The kid wore an anxious expression. “When did I start what?” Frankie asked.

Matty swallowed. “Nothing.”

“Look, this is the way this has to work. When you’re riding in my truck, that means you’re more than family, you’re my partner. Partners can tell each other anything. I’m not going to run to your mother about it. It’ll all be between us. Now, out with it. When did I start…start…”

“The phone business?” Matty said finally.

“The phone business,” Frankie repeated. Fine, if the kid wanted to play it that way. Let him warm up. “You know I used to run my own installation company, right? Bellerophonics, Inc. Get it? Bell, phones, and the Greek angle.”

“Uh…”

“Bellerophon? Greatest of the Greek heroes? Rode Pegasus?”

“Sure, sure.”

“I had two guys under me, they didn’t get it. But you and me, Matthias, we’re descended from heroes. Heroes and demigods.”

“So what happened?” Matty asked. “To Bellerophonics?”

“I sank everything I had into that business, and a little more besides. Okay, a lot more. Then, my friend, the business sank me. Had to go to work with these fuckers at Bumblebee. Oh, it’s okay. A steady paycheck. You gotta bring home the bacon, and keep your family safe from the wolves.”

“Because they can smell the bacon,” Matty said.

“You bet they can,” Frankie said. “Especially when you owe the wolves a shit-ton of bacon.” The kid’s eyebrows lifted, and Frankie realized he’d said too much. Change of topic, then. “You know what a PBX is?” Of course he didn’t. Frankie told him about the system they’d be working on today: a hundred and twenty handsets plus a dedicated voice mail system. Tried to get across what a great opportunity this was. “God if I’d been exposed to this stuff when I was thirteen.”

“Fourteen.”

“You pay attention, learn the tech, you’ll be in high demand,” Frankie said. “A stable career waiting for you.” Frankie saw the look on the kid’s face.

Matty let a half smile escape. “It’s not show business.”

Frankie laughed. “Is that what this is about?”

“Grandpa Teddy—”

“Grandpa Teddy never held a straight job in his life.”

“I know!” Matty said. “Isn’t that great?”

“Let me tell you a story about your grandfather. Before he was married, before the arthritis, he conquered every poker table he sat down at. How do you hide your cards from Teddy Fucking Telemachus? You don’t, that’s how. But it’s not always enough, right? Like this one time, this is in Cincinnati, I think, or Cleveland, one of the ‘C’ cities. Grandpa Teddy’s in this deep, weekend-long Texas hold ’em tournament with a bunch of sharks and one whale.”

The kid nodded, but he had no idea.

“Whale,” Frankie said. “That’s a mark with too much money and not enough sense to get out of the water. Anyway, Teddy’s doing the usual, taking their money but not too much of it. Don’t want to scare the fishes. But after like thirty hours of playing, the whale’s cashed out, and the sharks start eyeing each other. You gotta understand, all these guys left, they’re not nice guys, right? Mobbed up. Teddy’s supposed to be just this mook who’s new in town, they don’t know who he is, but still. Your grandpa had balls of steel. Clanked when he walked.

“Now, Teddy knows that all this time two of the guys at the table have been cheating their asses off. They’re working as a team, wiring the cards to each other, practically writing love notes. Teddy was making his money, but still letting these guys think they’re running the show. And up till now it’s all been about the whale, right? But now they think Teddy’s the whale. He’s the fucking tourist, he’s not one of them, so they start gunning for him. And Teddy, being Teddy, can see them using every trick in the book, dealing off the bottom—these guys couldn’t even deal seconds, they weren’t mechanics like Teddy—and they’re taking obvious peeks. Fucking with him. But what can he do? Like I said, these are not nice guys. They’re not going to let him get up and walk away with their money.”

He glanced over at Matty. The kid was eating it up.