CHAPTER 53

 

After rehearsal—which is pretty short for Puck, the fairies, and Tom Snout because the director wants to focus on all the scenes with the romantic leads—I head back to the boardwalk and the Balloon Race booth.

Vinnie needs me to cover what he calls the “late-late shift.” Seems he has a “hot date” with Madame Maria, the lady who tells fortunes two booths down from ours.

“She read my mind,” Vinnie told me. “Asked me out right before I was going to ask her. Bada bing, bada boom. It’s in the stars, Jacky. The stars.”

They’re heading to the mainland to catch a movie. Billy Crystal in City Slickers. He’s also paying me double to work eight to eleven.

Schuyler has no plans for the night (Sophia is working until midnight at the Rusty Scupper). He has some time to kill and decides to kill it with me in the booth. Bill doesn’t join us because his dad needs him at home.

“The toilet’s gurgling. Dad can’t reach the shutoff valve. Needs me to crawl behind the commode. Good times.”

I wish him luck and thank him again for all his help setting things right with my sisters and their assorted suitors.

Later, I wish Bill had been with me.

We have a lot of college-age kids trying to impress their girlfriends on the boardwalk late at night. They’ll keep playing until they win a prize big enough to make their dates squeal.

As you might imagine, we rake in a lot of cash on the late shift. I’m drawing the crowd, Schuyler is manning the money box.

“Is this legal?” he asks, flapping a five-dollar bill some guy just handed him. The money’s been defaced with a rubber stamp that turns Abraham Lincoln into Mr. Spock from Star Trek.

“Vinnie will take it to the bank,” I say, because Schuyler can’t remember which one of the half dozen fraternity boys lined up on the squirt gun firing range handed it to him. Plus, we’re way too busy to worry about it right then and there. “If it’s a problem, they’ll figure it out.”

That’s when Jeff Cohen, in full costume, stumbles up to our booth. Both hands are on his cow head.

“Uh ee a ittle elp, acky.”

I think he needs a little help. I’m getting better at deciphering his muffled cowspeak.

“It’s uck.…”

Sounds like the head is stuck.

“Come on,” I tell him. “Slip around to the back of the booth where no kids can see you. We don’t want to violate that mascot code of ethics. Can you watch the booth?” I ask Schuyler.

“No problemo.”

I hurry out of the booth and guide Jeff behind the back wall. I grab a pair of needle-nose pliers we keep under the counter for fixing squirt gun nozzles. Hopefully, it’ll work on the cow head’s rusty hook.

After a few false starts and several grunts, the head pops free.

“Thanks, Jacky. I want to go see Victoria as the real me, not a cow. Is she at the Taffy Shoppe tonight?”

“She’s at home,” I tell him.

Jeff sighs. “That taffy shop will always have a special place in my heart. It’s where I first saw your sister in the front window. An angel. All in white. Pulling taffy. Rolling it out on a marble slab. Made me wish I didn’t wear braces.…”

“How’d you like to have dinner with me and Victoria and all my sisters one night?” I ask him, feeling like Puck, sprinkling the world with love potions. Or love pizzas, in this case.

“For real?” says Jeff.

“Totally. We should probably wait until after the show opens, though.”

“I guess,” says Jeff, his shoulders sagging.

“Of course, I’ll make sure Victoria comes to the opening-night performance. And the cast party!”

Jeff lights up. “You’re the best, Jacky. Now I know why Bill is so crazy about you!”

That makes me smile. Jeff heads for home, happy. I head for the booth, happy. But it doesn’t last long.

Because Schuyler is gone.

He left a note, taped to the money box: “Sorry. I had to go take care of some stuff.”

I panic slightly.

Then I open the money box.

It’s empty.

That’s when I panic big-time!