Blind Date. Cheryl Anne Porter

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      “SO, HOW ABOUT this little beauty, huh, Joey? It’s part of my legacy. When I die, it’s all yours.”

      “You’re not going to die, Uncle Maury. The way things are going, you’ll be around longer than I am. You and this…car.” Standing in the apartment complex’s parking lot with Meg at his side, Joe looked over the black and chrome behemoth that could have been a prop in a James Cagney gangster movie. But his great-uncle was so proud of the car that Joe had no choice but to voice excitement. “Still looks like it’s in mint condition.”

      “It’s better than that. Got a new engine. And I put new tires on it and installed seat belts. It’s gassed up, street-legal and ready to go.” Wearing striped and rumpled shorts, a loud Hawaiian shirt and scuffed deck shoes, the short, stocky, cigar-smoking and toupee-topped octogenarian indulgently patted the car’s fender. “This baby saw me through many a scrape up in Jersey in the old days. What a machine. It’s not the same now—the cars and the gangsters today. They don’t have anything on us old guys. We were the real deal—you know, kid?”

      “Yes, I do, Uncle Maury.” As an aside to Meg, Joe whispered, “He was never in the Mafia. Not really. I’ll tell you more later.”

      “Okay,” she whispered back, “but I didn’t really think he was.”

      “Before I got out of the mob,” Maury continued, “we were really something. But these goons today, all dressed in black, so slick and educated? Hooey! A bunch of empty suits. Got no morals. No respect.” He wagged a stubby index finger at Joe. “A man who don’t respect his family is no kind of man at all. You remember that, Joey. And you take good care of my little Meggie here. She’s a gem, ain’t she?”

      Maury cupped her chin in his hand and grinned proudly. “Beautiful, like I told you, huh? She teaches little kids. Tells them what they need to know about life—don’t you, Meggie?”

      “I try, Maury.” Her voice sounded funny since she had to speak with her cheeks pooched between his big thumb and thick fingers.

      Maury released her, leaving red marks on her face. Joe didn’t know what to do or say as she worked her jaw, but she she acted like this was an everyday occurrence that didn’t upset her.

      “That’s my girl.” Maury dug through his pockets, obviously searching for something. “You need any money, Joey, to show this lady a good time? She deserves some fun.”

      “I’ve got plenty, Uncle Maury. Keep your money.” But Maury pressed a big wad of bills into Joe’s hand anyway. “Well, in that case, thank you. That’s really nice of you.” He tucked the money into his pocket. It was just easier. Tomorrow he’d find a way to put it back on his uncle’s dresser. The top of it was such a mess he’d never notice a few loose dollars added back to the mix.

      “Hey,” Meg said suddenly. “Why don’t you come with us, Maury?”

      That surprised Joe. Sure it was nice that she’d want to include the old guy. But did she offer because she didn’t want to be alone with him?

      Uncle Maury, God love him, came through. With broad gestures and an adamant shake of his head that left his toupee slightly askew, he waved Meg’s suggestion away. “No, you two go. You don’t want an old man tagging along. Go enjoy a little adventure. Maybe tomorrow when I’m not so tired, we can do something, the three of us. How does that sound?”

      With the words no more than said, Maury was suddenly seized with an episode of coughing and wheezing that had him clutching at his chest.

      Concerned, Joe took up position beside his uncle. At the same time, Meg took his elbow at the other side. Really liking this woman for her warmth and caring, Joe turned his attention to Maury. “You’re tired? Are you all right?”

      “I’m fine,” he groused, shaking off their hands.

      Joe stepped back, exchanging a look with Meg, who looked every bit as worried as he felt. The old guy might be a kid at heart, but Joe had to remind himself that his great-uncle was well into his eighties. “Why don’t we just stay here with you tonight, Uncle Maury?”

      Seeking her approval, Joe again met Meg’s eyes and saw her nod. “We’ll call out for a pizza and you can tell us all about the old days. How does that sound?”

      “Boring as hell. You go paint the town with the young lady. Me, I got some people coming over tonight. We’ll sit by the pool, have a few drinks, play some cards and tell lies. I’ll be fine. Now, go. Get outta here.”

      Joe frowned, suddenly worried about leaving Maury alone. Maybe moving from the active-seniors complex where he used to live hadn’t been such a good idea for his great-uncle. The family had taken it as a good sign when Maury left last year, saying he didn’t want to be surrounded by old people. Now, Joe wasn’t so sure.

      “Why the long face, Joey?” Maury chided. “I said I was fine. Now, you kids go have fun. And make sure Meggie here cuts loose a little, Joey. But be a gentleman, or you’ll answer to me.”

      Joe held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. We’ll go, and I’ll behave.”

      “Darn, Maury, why’d you have to make him promise to behave?” Meg pouted, clamping her hands to her waist. “Are you just trying to take all the fun out of this evening?”

      Meg’s teasing sentiment—though Joe suspected she’d said it mainly to make Uncle Maury laugh, which he did—nevertheless riveted Joe’s attention on her. She boldly met his gaze, but only for an instant before she leaned in to kiss his elderly great-uncle on the cheek. Watching her, Joe again had the sense, deep inside, that she was not going to be an easy woman to walk away from.

      A LITTLE MORE THAN three hours into their not-a-date, as they motored down stately Bayshore Boulevard with the un-air-conditioned jalopy’s front windows rolled down, Meg found herself looking over at Joe. Though he was seat-belted in behind the wheel of the Mafia-mobile, he wasn’t all that far away. For all its chrome and length, the car’s interior was fairly compact. No more than a foot of empty bench seat separated her from this fine specimen of maleness.

      “How long have you been here visiting Maury?” she asked, deciding a little conversation might break the ice.

      “Three days now.”

      “Really? I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around the apartment complex.” Meg loved that Joe was driving. This way she could look at him all she wanted, without worrying about where they were going. The man had a killer face—high forehead and cheekbones, deep-set blue eyes, a straight nose, sensual lips and a firm jaw. He looked like a tough-guy movie star. But most of all, she liked СКАЧАТЬ