A Bad, Bad Boy by Judith Moore

Author:Judith Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781939938060
Published: 2013-08-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

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LINGERIE BRIBES

“I know who that guy is. He won’t even take a cigar.”

Mary Ann, one day, talking about her mother’s dress shop—Santa Ann’s Moderate Shop on 30th in North Park—began telling a story that had to do with the police. She said, “My mother was way ahead of her time. She wanted to be kept busy, so she opened the dress shop. She was going to specialize in large women. She was going to do this even though she was tiny; she wore her dresses in a size seven or eight when sizes were real sizes and everything was zip-up and fitted. She was open for a while, but the ladies would drop by and say, ‘Don’t you have anything in a smaller size?’ My mother said, ‘Okay, I’m going to look for a line and I’m going to bring it in.’ Dresses were a headache, so she went into separates. She brought in skirts, sweaters, blouses, and catered to the working girl. Mayfair Market was across the street on 30th Street. All those girls from Mayfair, every time they got their paycheck, they’d come in. My mother said, ‘Forget about the people that have a lot of money, they don’t shop as often as the working girl.’ She was a success in that store.

“So my mother’s got her shop and Christmas comes. My father said to her, ‘Honey, give me a stack of your cards.’ And she said, ‘Okay.’ Everything was aboveboard with my mother and her shop. My father says to her, ‘Anybody comes in with my name on the back of your card, give them whatever they pick out, gift wrap it, and don’t charge ’em, just keep the receipt,’ he says, ‘and I’ll pay you.’ They were the cops my father was handing out these cards to. I was working in the shop then, so this is not from my mother’s mouth only or my father’s. I saw this myself.

“For Christmas, my mother had lingerie, she had a little bit of costume jewelry. These men, all men, came in and they’d look around and pick out things and they’d present the card and they’d say some version of ‘Frank sent me.’ My mother would say, ‘Fine, thank you,’ and gift wrap whatever they’d chosen and hand it to them and out they’d go. I don’t know how many of these guys came in and did this. But there was one cop I waited on, only one, who was the exception to the rule. He asked for a box of hosiery. Then he said, ‘Frank sent me in,’ and gave me the card. I said, ‘Would you like it gift wrapped?’ He said, ‘How much do I owe you?’ I said, ‘Nothing.’ He says, ‘I came in because I know Frank and I want to pay you.’ I said, ‘I’m not supposed to take your money.’And he said, ‘Well, I don’t want them then.’ When I told my dad about what happened, he said, ‘I know who that guy is.

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