Getting It Through My Thick Skull (22 page)

BOOK: Getting It Through My Thick Skull

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“Yeah, I was talking to Tommy and George, and apparently there was a problem.” I felt like a deflated balloon, but I wasn’t about to discuss the matter any further. We hung up, and I felt very sad. The old me took every word Joey said as gospel. The new me decided to call Tony and ask about the change of plans. It gave me a good excuse to call him, if nothing else.

He was happy to hear from me, and we were having a pleasant chat when I said offhandedly, “I was talking to Joey and he mentioned that the car show in Vegas was canceled . . . that’s too bad.”

“That’s news to me. I plan on being there next week,” Tony said.

“You sure there was no problem with the permits?” I asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean, I can ask George, but there’s no problem with permits. That’s crazy. Of course we’re going—we go every year. It’s the biggest car convention in the country!”

The controlling and bullshitting on Joey’s part was never going to stop. If I’d had any doubts before, they were banished. I was for sure going to Vegas. And I wasn’t going to tell anyone I was going or say another word about it. Tony and I met for a friendly lunch before that weekend, and we had a nice little vibe going. He took me to visit his shop, where I was reintroduced to George and saw all the amazing cars on which they were hard at work. It was great to be out again. I had to admit that putting myself out there was getting great results so far.

I had no problem imagining myself driving to Vegas and walking into that car show to see Tony again. The flirtatious girl I’d been thirty years ago in high school came back with a vengeance. A surge of confidence came over me. I was going to give it a try! This behavior was so uncharacteristic of me, yet it was the “me” I remembered from so many years ago. I was nervous, afraid, and seriously out of practice, but I was going to do it. I was going to try because my girlfriend said that I never looked back. I was a good person. I deserved to have some fun, and I was going to look back. Who knew that deciding to look back would be the first step in moving forward?

The morning I set off for Las Vegas, I was singing all the way. It was so thrilling to have someone who took my mind off Joe for a change. Someone in Vegas was waiting to see me! Not Joe’s wife, nor the sidekick, the drag, or the wet blanket. It was so cute—Tony called me twice while I was driving. “Where are you? When are you getting here?” I was driving, but I felt like I was flying. I hadn’t felt this happy and excited in years. I had forgotten I was capable of feeling this elated.

I checked into my room at the Rio Hotel, a place I’d been many times before with Mr. Good Times Joey, but he was the last thing on my mind. I took a taxi across the street over to the Palms, where the show was being held. It was less than a mile away, but it was the middle of August and probably 120 degrees in the desert.

Tony was genuinely happy to see me when I arrived at his booth. He greeted me with a big hug and kiss, and I felt much better—not so much like a wanton woman chasing after some guy. He was thrilled that I was there. I was thrilled, too—and scared. I hadn’t dated in more than thirty years. The excited part battled with the nervous part, especially as the day wore on and I foresaw myself being alone with Tony. I wanted my big brother around, someone to look after me a bit, help me if I needed it. Joe’s brother Bruce was truly that figure in my life. I loved him as much as my own sisters.

I called him from the show and told him how amazing the displays were and what a great time I was having. He decided to jump on the thirty-minute flight and come see the show. I knew Joey, of course, would get wind of this plan, as Bruce lived in his house and would tell him where he was headed. I also knew that Joe’s pride wouldn’t allow him to react negatively. Plus, he had his hands full with a serious girlfriend. Whatever he really might be feeling about my weekend wasn’t my concern. I felt like the forty-seven-year-old virgin and simply wanted a friend by my side. I was excited and scared to death at the same time.

After thI had been absolutely e show ended for the day, Tony, Bruce, and I had a lovely dinner with George Barris, where I met some very fancy- shmancy bigwigs from the car industry and a few celebrities. I was having a great time, one thing led to another, and I soon had a decision to make. I was a forty-seven-year-old woman who had slept with one man her entire life. It was a big leap to consider actually becoming intimate with someone else. But I thought about my girlfriend, Toni, who’d had many boyfriends over the course of her life. “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all,” she used to say. I wasn’t in love with Tony. I was giddy with excitement, fun, and anticipation. I was saying
yes
for a change. To everything!

Bruce stayed in my room because I didn’t use it that night. I lay awake all night long while Tony slept peacefully. I could not believe I had done this! It was a momentous event. The butterflies and the high from this entire night would not allow me to rest for even one hour. When Tony woke up, he couldn’t have been nicer, but I urged him to go ahead to the show without me. I would find breakfast and meet him later. I was exhausted, but still too wound up to sleep. I raced around like a teenager, running on sheer nerves, and prepared for the day.

I was having such a good time with Tony that I spent the entire day hanging out in the booth. I didn’t want to leave his side, even to go gamble. I was wearing a cute little pair of shorts and a matching tank top and feeling great. At one point, Tony got a call on his cell phone and told me when he hung up, “Hey, that was my friend Stu; he’s here in town. He’s staying at the Rio, too, so I told him to come by and say hi. You’ll like him. He’s from Long Island, too—Bellmore.”

I had been absolutely reveling in a feeling of anonymity all weekend. I wasn’t Joey’s wife, he was nowhere around, and I didn’t know or care if anyone was aware of my history. For the past two days, I had simply been “Mary Jo,” and I liked it that way. My heart sank a bit. Anyone from Long Island would certainly know who I was, but I put it out of my mind.

A couple of hours later, a man about our age showed up and found Tony. I was standing in a fast-food place inside the casino, munching on some French fries, not paying much attention to who was coming and going, when Tony motioned me over. “Mary Jo, come over here . . . This is my friend Stu I was telling you about.” He had just walked a mile across the street in the blazing midday desert sun and was sweating and out of breath. “Hi Stu,” I said, “so nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” he replied.

“So, you’re from Long Island, too,” I said.

“Yep, that’s right,” Stu said.

“Well, I guess you know who I am,” I said, half cringing, waiting for the inevitable.

“No . . . who the fuck are you?” he answered abruptly. Clearly, he was a little out of sorts. I was so embarrassed, my face burned. I didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry, I thought you said you were from Long Island!” I said.

“Well, yeah, but I left in 1979,” he said. I glared at Tony. He hadn’t mentioned that part. Now Stu was really looking at me closely. “So who
are
you?”

“Never mind, never mind, forget it,” I said, wishing I could just fade away. In fact, that’s what I did—I just walked away, leaving a very puzzled Stu behind me. “Am I supposed to know who she is or something?” he was asking Tony as I got out of there—fast. Hardly a storybook beginning! I could not have imagined that this man would soon become the love of my life.