Fraudition

Paisley finally called, said she’s with her lawyer and they want to chat. Can’t afford no representation of my own so I guess the jig is up. It’s been up for a while now if I’m being honest and I guess this is the day I “pay for my sins” or whatever a “good Catholic boy” like me is supposed to believe. I don’t really know what I believe these days. No time for theoreticals and so called divine judgements, anyway, when man’s laws are about to shaft me.

I’ll admit, I deserve this. My penance. What I don’t deserve is to be stuck in all this traffic while I’m trying to get to my little rendezvous. Nobody deserves rush hour traffic, not even my cousin Vito who’s doing twenty-five to life due to his… “affiliations.”

I think about taking the next exit off the highway and making a break for it. Who says I’ve got to show up? I’ll make some calls. Get myself a one way ticket to Italy and bada-boom… As soon as I think about it, I’m passing by the Berkshire Mall. The place where this whole rigamarole started, and it dawns on me — you can’t run from who you are and that damned mall made me who I am.

Not too long ago, I was just your average Joe Schmo. I was working a basic run of the mill nine-to-five at Berkshire, selling knock-off jewelry. You know, the type that turns your finger green or leaves a gnarly ring around your neck that even an hour of scrubbing in the shower don’t get off. Forget about cleaning up your reputation if you’re caught wearing the cheap shit.

My folks opened the business, if you even want to call it that, in the late 80s or early 90s, never really bothered to memorize when. To hear pops talk about it, business sure was booming back then. I, myself, never saw much business at all. I started working there right after high school. To this day I don’t think I’ve earned more than a couple hundred smackaroos in a day there.

That’s why one day, after working the joint for hours, I got bored and decided to play a little game of “I Spy.” I wasn’t quite sure what it was I was looking for. Really, I was looking for anything other than this. Sort of felt like I had been my whole life. That’s when I spotted the sign. It opened up my eyes — to a whole new possibility.

The sign said some bullshit about “this could be you” and had a bunch of kid’s network actors on it. A way to rope in idiot kids and their even dopier parents. An audition was coming up and it felt like an exploitable opportunity. I put away my merchandise and pulled the sign close to my stall. A few people who walked by looked over at me. Some with amusement, others with disgust. A few people stopped by with questions before outright laughing at me or cursing me out for taking advantage of young and impressionable minds.

Then she arrived. She was young. Not too young but young enough to fall for the scam.

“What’s this all about?” she asked as she blew a bright pink gum bubble.

“I’m helping kids work on their acting chops for this, here, audition,” I said, thumbing at the sign.

“How much?”

I looked around. I hadn’t really thought that far. “Uhm, hundred bucks an hour?” It felt like I was asking for her permission more than telling her what was what.

“That’s fair,” she replied after an uncomfortable pause. “I’ve done some modeling. Nothing too fancy. A few gigs here and there. Do you have a business card?”

She popped her gum and reached out her hand.

“I ran out earlier,” I said, doing some juking and jiving. “Do you mind putting me in your contacts the old fashioned way? Then you can hash things out with your folks and give me a ring later on.”

“Sure thing,” she replied. "Paisley Ainsworth, by the way.”

“Yeah. Sure. Right.” I was barely listening, looking around, hoping mall security wouldn’t show up before I got to shake her hand.

“And your name?” Paisley asked as she looked me up and down.

“Joe.” I replied. I wasn’t about to give her my full name. Last thing I needed was for my family to catch wind of my latest scheme. It never ended well.

“Cool.” She smiled brightly. “Here, add yourself, Joe,” she said, handing me her phone.

Paisley reached out to me by week’s end and that’s how I clinched my first and only client. Seemed like her folks didn’t care what she was doing as long as she paid for it all. Reminded me of my own ma and pa. Pay for it yourself and as long as it’s making more money, we ain’t got a problem with it. I almost felt bad taking advantage of the poor kid.

Almost.

Speaking of almost, now I’m getting closer to the meeting. I’m a few blocks away from hitting the inner city and the place Paisley told me to meet her at. Pressure’s starting to build. Gridlocked traffic and the fact I’m moving slower than nana cooking Sunday dinner ain’t helping me none. I could drive right through the city and keep going over the bridge. Grow a beard and become a beach bum, sleep under the boardwalk for the rest of my life. I change my mind when I get caught at a red light and a guy who looks like he hasn’t washed since the year of my birth comes tapping on my window. Usually, I’d ignore him. Wait for green and go. Sympathy smacks me over the head like pa used to — the guy’s stuck and down on his luck. Like me. Worse. I roll down the glass and he smiles. The smell of whiskey creeps out between the gaps in his teeth.

“Spare some change so a guy can eat” he says to me.

I don’t want to do it. I’m not going to do it. He should at least have the courtesy to tell me what he’s actually going to use the cash for, you know what I mean? Have the gumption to face up to the truth, like I’m about to have to. Then I remember something. The last time I shut someone down from getting some booze.

You see, one day during one of Paisley’s “classes,” she was smiling ear to ear. She had no poker face. She was a terrible actress and it was my fault, I knew it, but was kind of glad for it. Always had to know what was going on with her. Had to stay a step ahead.

“What’s all the grinning for?” I asked her. “Picturing your name up in lights, again, or something?” I joked, assuming it was a boy or some other typical teenage stuff.

“Not exactly,” she said. “I’m… I don’t know if I should tell you.”

Aww, crap. Now I had to know.

“Well, you can come to me with whatever you want,” I said. “I know I’m just your acting coach but I like to think of myself as somewhat of a mentor.”

“Well… it does concern acting. So I guess I’ll tell you.” She went silent.

“Well, go on then,” I said. “You land a role in a play or something?” I doubted it.

“I’m… well… you promise not to tell my parents? Pinky swear to it?”

Marone, I thought. I wanted to know what she had going on, just in case whatever it was could mess my plans up somehow. Breaking trust with her parents didn’t seem great. Screw it, though. They didn’t really care that much anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, kid. I won’t squeal.”

“I’m going to a bar tonight. Going to try to see if I can get served a couple drinks. I feel like it’ll be a good test of the stuff I’m learning with you. If I can pull off being an adult, I’ll feel like I’ve got the confidence and the skills to take on any role.”

This was bad. I wouldn’t even cast the kid in a biopic of herself, let alone what she was hoping to pull off here. I had to keep this under control. Had to be there to make sure she felt like all the lessons had been worth her while.

“Mind if I tag along? I want to see what you got.”

She paused for a minute and I got nervous. If I couldn’t rig this a bit, she was going to get thrown out on her ear and the jig would be up. She was going to realize she’d learned nothing at all.

She nodded, though, and said, “That’d actually be great. I was going to ask but I figured you’d be too busy, but I really would love for you to see my first performance. You sure you don’t mind?”

I laughed and said, “Kid, it’s my duty to make sure you know what you’re doing. I’ve got a great spot in mind. The perfect venue for your debut.” I hoped I wasn’t making it obvious I was setting her up but I believed I had her trust.

Paisley squealed and pulled me into a hug.

After our lesson we went to my favorite dive. I knew the staff pretty good. I hoped I could get them to do some better acting than what I’d gotten out of Paisley, so far, and they’d be able to help me pull the wool over her eyes for a little longer.

The ride to the bar was quiet which was unusual for Paisley who usually gabbed non-stop. I sent Tim, my bartender friend for lack of a better word, a text saying that I was going to drop by for the usual but that today I was bringing someone along.

Tim was surprised to hear I wasn’t coming in alone — if Tim only knew this was the one time I wish I were. I gave him as few details as possible and told him I’d give him twenty-five bucks if he’d only serve Paisley non-alcoholic mixed drinks, pretend it was real booze, and if he didn’t ask many questions. He agreed but said it’d cost me fifty.

“I guess I should be glad you’re not wanting me to serve her liquor for real but like… should I be calling the police? She’s kinda young, isn’t she?” Tim asked at one point during the night.

“Niece. Wants to feel like a grown up for her birthday. Just don’t blow it for her, okay?” I told Tim.

“Didn’t know your siblings had kids.”

“Yeah, well, now you do.”

Tim kept the virgin daiquiris coming all night.

“Doesn’t really taste like it has anything in it,” Paisley said at some point.

“Yeah. That’s what a good mixologist does, kid,” I told her.

By ten o’clock she was stumbling around and doing impromptu karaoke to the songs on the jukebox. She was more convinced she was drunk than anyone else in the room was. If she could perform for an audience full of clones of herself for the rest of her life, she might have a shot at a successful acting career.

I drove her home at the end of the night and was confident her parents wouldn’t notice her giggling and belching while tripping her way up the steps. As long as it wasn’t on their dime and as long as they thought whatever career she wound up with could afford her the hours of therapy their neglect would cost her, it was fine. I felt bad for the kid.

Now I suddenly feel bad for this guy reaching his hand through my window. I put a few bills in his hand and he doesn’t even bother saying thank you before moving on to the next car. Traffic light changes and it’s time to go. Just a few blocks left. Probably only a matter of time before the only kind of block I get to see is prefaced by the word “cell.”

When I get to the law offices, first thing I notice is the gargoyles on the side of the building. They stare down at me. I feel like I’m being judged before I even get a chance to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. I want to run. I’ve run before. Reminds me of the last time I saw Paisley.

The plan wasn’t to join her for the audition at all. Figured she’d have someone else to take her after I’d made my moolah, but of course her folks weren’t going to do it. She had no one else. She offered me some extra change for the ride and, as they say, “the rest is history.”

When we got there, I was just going to sit in the car and wait for her. Paisley, however, insisted she’d never acted without me and didn’t know if she could do it, now. She needed her coach and was willing to pay me as if it were one of our regular sessions — and money talks. I decided I’d just get in, get out, and no one would be any the wiser.

“This is it!” Paisley exclaimed. She had unfastened her seatbelt and bolted out of the car, towards the door, before I even had the car in park.

I groaned. This was really off to a fantastic frickin’ start! Paisley was completely out of my line of sight and into the building. When I finally caught up with her, she was already signed up and sitting at the front of the auditorium full of hopeless hopefuls, because of course she was. Everything was rushing by so fast. In no time at all, the welcoming presentation was over and done with. Then they started calling kids back into private rooms for the first and last time most of them would get even a small taste of Hollywood living.

“Paisley Ainsworth,” was called out by one of the suits and of course she had to be one of the first called up. They were going alphabetically.

Paisley got up and walked over and I saw the two of them exchange a few words. Then Paisley pointed at me. Now the schmuck who she was talking to was waving me over to join them. I almost bolted right there but I figured I could schmooze my way through it. So I walked over.

“Hi, there, and what exactly is your relationship to Paisley, here?” the idiot asked.

“Don’t be silly, he’s —” Paisley started.

“I’m her acting coach,” I said, trying to keep things under control.

“Very well,” said the two bit auditioner. “Right this way.” He led us through a curtain.

Paisley watched me the whole time.

I was ushered to a seat and Paisley was directed in front of a camera and handed a short script.

“Go ahead, you may begin. Action!”

Paisley did her thing.

The guy who was running the show’s face was a stone slab.

I said whatever prayers I’d learned over the years, begging for forgiveness for putting Paisley in that position. She wasn’t a bad kid. I wished I could have actually taught her a thing or two about a thing or two before she went up there and made a fool of herself.

Paisley finished up.

The clown had her sit down beside me and took a seat opposite us. He said, “Now, time for paperwork. Just a formality, really.”

Then Paisley said the worst thing she possibly could, “Is all this really necessary? I mean I can fill out my portion but Joe should already be in your files, right?”

“Excuse me?” said the man across from me, suddenly reminding me somehow of my nana before the belt came out to tan my hide.

I broke out in a sweat. All I could do was what I always did when I was about to get a lashing, as a kid. I ran. I ran to the car. I drove until I couldn’t drive no more.

Yet, here I am now. Parking; getting out; tripping up the steps; entering the law offices and having a secretary tell me, “Ah, Mr. Falcone. They’ll be with you momentarily.”

It isn’t long before I’m looking at a guy in a tailored suit and standing to shake his hand. Beside him is the girl whose fate I took into my hands, now taking mine into hers.

“So, how much trouble am I in?” I ask through a dry laugh.

Neither of them returns a chuckle. They don’t even crack a little smile for me.

“Come with us,” says the lawyer man.

They lead me to a room with some chairs — they’re much too comfortable for how I’m feeling. I sit on the edge of my seat.

“So, what all did you tell him about me, huh Paise?” I ask Paisely.

“Everything,” she says.

“And how much time am I looking at? Or do I gotta figure out how to pay you back for wasting your time or what’s —”

“Joe, this is my entertainment lawyer, Vincent. I met him after I nailed the audition and landed some work. We start shooting a new show in a couple months. The only problem is we’re having trouble finding the perfect person to play the villain. I read the script and instantly thought of you. You’re the best actor I’ve ever known, all things considered. After I told them all about everything that happened, they’re very interested in you. Only question is, are you going to sign?”

Vincent hands me a contract over the table.