To Become A Con Artist

Chapter Thirteen

The next two days that passed after my time at the speakeasy had been free from the sight of Sonny Clemenza, which was alright with me since I had gotten paranoid after Miles' warning and Sonny's unreadable composure.

As I made oatmeal for my brother and sister I caught a glimpse of my mother seated at the frayed wood table reading a letter she had received earlier this morning. Her head was on one hand while the other held a cold cup of black coffee since we had no milk or cream.

I knew what the letter said because it was signed by our vicious landlord who insisted on raising the rent despite the number of poor families that lived in the building with low incomes. I wished that I could earn all the con money soon so that I could get my family off of Mulberry Street and into a gorgeous brownstone such as ones I'd seen in Gramercy Park.

My father hadn't left us with much, but it could've been worse. Like Mrs. Allen down the hall whose husband had went out west to California to find a better home last spring, but met another woman and left Mrs. Allen with two young children and her elderly mother to care for. I thanked The Lord every day for what our family did have. Though I couldn't help but to rely on learning the art of conning to improve our current lives.

"Peter come out. You too Mary." I set the bowls down, dunking a spoon in each. Peter came first, as usual, with a frown on his face already sensing the meal for this morning.

"I don't like-"

"Peter." My mother warned finally looking up with tired eyes. "Mary please come out, your oatmeal is getting cold." There was no sight of Mary for a moment then she appeared and took her seat in front of the bowl. I grabbed some money from the old coffee tin my mother kept in the back of the cabinet.

"I'll go buy some sugar."

"And see if Mr. Luccino has a loaf for you today." I nodded pressing my lips together. "Thank you." I paused. That phrase of appreciation was foreign to my ears. Thank you. My mother had never thanked me for what I did. I smiled at the words then left.

As I walked the crowded streets on the warm Saturday morning a familiar car honked pulling up in front of me as I attempted to cross the street. Anne stuck her head out and waved excitedly.

"Top of the morning! Care for a ride?" This was the same car Tony had picked me up in a week and a half ago in front of the Copper Bull.

"A ride? Where?" I pulled the door open and slid inside.

"To the house of course. Unless you would like to go indulge yourself in luxury again." Anne partially joked.

"How did your mother like your new bob?"

"Well-" I sighed and chuckled touching the end of my hair gently. I was still getting use to it but I loved it. "I'm still alive which is all that matters." We broke into laughter. "But she must be indifferent now because she never scoffs when I walk in anymore."

"Aren't mothers the dearest." Anne stated in a low voice.

"Do you live with your mother?"

"Oh goodness no. That woman is most likely face down in a bar somewhere in Chicago." I lifted an eyebrow in shock but said nothing in regards to her apparently drunken mother.

"What about your father?"

"Face down next to her." She almost chuckled but noticed my expression. "I grew up in Chicago with two drunkard parents and a younger brother. I left with him when I was sixteen and went to Pennsylvania to live with our aunt and uncle. But we were taken back a month later. Then a year later I came to New York-alone." She ended just as we approached the house.

"How did you-"

"Come along Claire. No more about boring 'ol me today." She said this without her famous friendly grin.

We entered the house which smelled of Strong cigars and lemon meringue pie. Anne led me down the hallway to what seemed to be a study with book shelves lining all but one wall. Tony and Miles were set in front of a game of chess. The scent of the cigar became clear from the thick rod in Tony's mouth. Miles sipped scotch flat but kept focus on the chess board.

"Claire c'mere." Tony called without moving his eyes off the game. I went over. "Decide my next move." I tilted my head and laughed putting my hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry but chess is the equivalent of French to me."

"Then I'll have to teach you. It develops your brain. Con artists use their brain to challenge others, but chess challenges the con artist's mind giving  balance to the scale." He explained. "It's like an exercise."

"Just do not count on ever beating Tony." Anne warned, fiddling with her pink pearl necklace. "No one has been able to beat him."

"I will in-"

"Checkmate." Tony announced leaning back in his seat and planting the rancid cigar back in his mouth. Miles stood with a grunt handing Tony a folded bill.

"I thought I had it."

"If it makes you feel better, I read that Negros aren't good at chess." Tony joked with a smirk. Miles slapped the back of his head.

"You're lucky I work with you." He stood next to Anne. "Or your ass would be tanned."

"Ouch." Tony said snickering.

"Never mind the threats and insults."Anne said leaning into Miles to kiss his cheek. "Claire I have a few dresses for you that will emphasize your wonderful hair. Imported from Paris." She gushed.

"Oh no, Anne you don't have to."

"I want to. Plus one dress is not enough for young and beautiful women."

"I have four dresses." I protested, following her out of the study.

"A con woman need to be stylish Claire. Goodness you have so much to learn."