Tax Cut

by Michele Lynn Seigfried

  “Don’t worry, Marc, old boy. We’ll be taking care of it all.”

  “That’s it. I’m done. I want out. I’ll resign from the board.”

  “Oh, Marc. I wouldn’t make any drastic decisions if I were you. What did you say your daughter’s name was? Oh, yeah, Karen. All tucked away nice and cozy at NYU. You want me to make a call and see what she’s doing right now?”

  “Please, no, please don’t.”

  “We told you before, Marc…you do what we say and we won’t harm a beautiful red hair on that girl’s head. We’re paying you on top of all that; you should be happy.”

  “I told you before, I don’t want the money. I just want my family to be left alone.”

  “Do what we say and you’re family will be just fine, Marc. Just fine.” Gino slapped Marc’s cheeks between his hands and left the room. Marc collapsed into a chair, clearly distraught, and wept uncontrollably.

  * * *

  The week consisted of staff meeting after staff meeting. Efforts were being put forth to handle the endless debris the fire had left behind. The emergency divisions of the village were taxed to their limits, having had to respond to flare-ups all week long. Marc came to a number of staff meetings. He was terribly disturbed about the fire. The mean, heartless man that I had come to know had turned into a blubbering bundle of nerves.

  During one of the meetings, Bryce voiced his concern about being able to collect the taxes on the properties that had become uninhabitable due to the fire. The fire forced people out of their businesses and homes. The business owners no longer had an income. While they awaited insurance payouts, they would be attempting to make ends meet. Some residents forced out of their homes had to pay rental expenses as well as their mortgages. Tough times called for tough measures. Paying taxes on an uninhabitable properties would be the least of people’s concerns. He explained there would soon be a trickle effect. The village could be in serious financial trouble if people didn’t or couldn’t pay their taxes. There would be a revenue shortage. The village didn’t have enough in the reserve for uncollected taxes nor in surplus to account for the lost tax revenue on the beachfront properties.

  Marc scratched his head and looked like he was about to cry. He said the last thing he wanted to do was layoffs to make up for a tax deficit. He asked the employees to offer their suggestions. Dingo suggested that they get a developer involved. There were laws about something called “redevelopment” in New Jersey. If an area was considered “blighted,” the area could be declared as “an area in need of redevelopment.” He explained there would be opportunities to get the fire-stricken areas back on their feet through this process. While I didn’t understand the whole concept, having no experience with redevelopment, it seemed like a plausible idea.

  Apparently, there were incentives. The village could do a “PILOT” or payment in lieu of taxes. It was like a tax abatement. The incentive for a developer to clean up and rebuild the area would be a significant decrease in taxes. The incentive for the village would be that the village would be getting some revenue instead of not being able to collect taxes at all on a property that might sit vacant for a very long time. The current owners could be their own developers.

  I decided Dingo might have been smarter than I had given him credit for. He was still piggish, but he must have been the pig that built his house with bricks instead of straw.

  Marc liked Dingo’s idea too. He told me to change the upcoming board meeting agenda. The Bond and Condemnation ordinances were taken off and appointments for attorneys and consultants who were experts in redevelopment were scheduled for approval. I hustled out of the meeting and back to my office to take care of changes to the upcoming agenda. Bonnie greeted me as I walked in the door.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Bonnie asked me.

  “Nothing at all. Why?”

  Dingo had gone back to his office after the staff meeting as well and overheard us talking. “Well, if you ladies have nothing to do this weekend, you are more than welcome to come on my boat,” he said as he approached us.

  “It’s a little cold for boating, isn’t it?” I asked Dingo.

  “Nah, it’s not too cold,” he said as his eyes wandered down to Bonnie’s chest. “The weather’s been nice. Come in your little bikinis, and I’ll take care of the food and the drinks.”

  Bonnie reached over, grabbed Dingo’s chin and lifted it up. “My eyes are up here, Dingo,” she said.

  I thought I would die laughing, but I choked it back. It was a good thing that Bonnie was easygoing and wasn’t offended. She would have had herself a nice sexual harassment suit. I guessed she knew that, and that was why she didn’t care how she spoke to Dingo. He was her boss, but I presumed he couldn’t say anything to her about the chin lifting, knowing darn well where his eyes were situated.

  Bonnie continued, “Now, Dingo, it’s much too cold to wear a bathing suit, and I don’t think my husband Jayce would like that too much.”

  “There’s a cabin on the boat; you could stay inside. Bring your husband along. The more the merrier.”

  We waited for Dingo to leave, then Bonnie rolled her eyes.

  “He probably wants me to bring Jayce so he can do some swinging.”

  I made a face. “I’m repulsed,” I said.

  “Anyway, forget about Dingo the Dog. I have front row tickets to a Devil’s game. Jayce got them from work. The hospital has season passes and they give them out to the doctors. Any interest in going? You can bring Kris along.”

  “I’m not so sure he’ll go.”

  “And why not?”

  “Well, I tried to be a kitten as you suggested, but it backfired. Not only did he not kiss me, he left my house on Monday night without so much as a handshake.”

  “Call him and ask him anyway.”

  “I will certainly call him and ask, but I’m in even if he doesn’t want to go. I love hockey.”

  “It’s a date then. I’ll pick you up on Saturday. The game starts at seven. Let’s plan on five, so that we can beat traffic and have time to eat at the Acela Club when we get there. I have a parking pass too.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you know about Kris.”

  I went right back to my desk and picked up the phone to dial Kris. He answered his cell on the first ring.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he said.

  I blushed. I asked him to go to the game with me and he accepted the invite without hesitation. I had that outcome pegged wrong. He, too, was a hockey fan. I hadn’t known we had that in common. I smiled excitedly and I hoped so badly that Saturday night would be my night to move things along with him.

  * * *

  Kris arrived at my house a little before five o’clock, and we waited for Bonnie to pick us up. We heard a knock at the door, and I opened it to find a short man wearing a suit and chauffeur’s cap. I looked at Kris, confused, then I looked back at the man.

  “Miss Chelsey?” the man said in an accent I didn’t recognize.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Your limo awaits.”

  “Limo?”

  Again, I looked at Kris, confused. He shrugged. I leaned forward to get a view of my driveway and, sure enough, there was a black, super-stretch limousine waiting for us. I locked up the house and we headed over the limo. When the driver opened the door, I saw Bonnie inside with a glass of champagne in her hand. She was dressed to the nines and while we were in jeans and team attire.

  I looked at Kris and said, “I think we are underdressed.”

  “I guess so,” he said, looking past me at Bonnie.

  “Oh, geez, get in the fricking car already,” Bonnie yelled. “The two of you act like you’ve never seen a limo before.”

  “The two of us also act like we’ve never seen someone so dressed up to go to a hockey game before…because we haven’t!” I joked.

  “I had to go to a fundraiser this afternoon and I didn’t have time to change,” Bonnie said.

  “You don’t do anything low-key,
do you, Bonnie?” I asked her. “This limo could probably fit sixteen people.”

  “You know me. I like my limos like I like my men…long and hard.”

  “Oh, lord,” I said as I rolled my eyes. Kris laughed.

  “Where’s Jayce?” I asked.

  “Oh, you know Jayce. He’s caught up in surgery. He’ll meet us there. He didn’t want me to drive, so he ordered this limo for us.”

  “Nice!” Kris said.

  We arrived at the Prudential Center with plenty of time to spare before the game. The limo driver dropped us off at the entrance to the arena. We handed our tickets to the person stationed at the door, bought a program, then took the elevators up to the Acela Club. Bonnie had made reservations for us.

  I ordered the outrageously priced, twenty-two-dollar hamburger. Kris had the same. Bonnie ordered the beef tenderloin entrée, which cost even more. Jayce texted Bonnie, saying he had left the hospital and was on his way. He’d probably get there in time for part of the first period.

  As we sat eating our meals, I noticed that Winifred entered the restaurant. I cringed. Paparazzo entered after her, then placed his arm around her as the host escorted them to their table.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” I said to Bonnie.

  Bonnie glanced over her shoulder and saw John and Winifred. “It looks like their relationship is out in the open now.”

  Winifred was wearing skin-tight hip-hugger jeans tucked into black boots that ended above her knee with a bustier-type top, partially covered with a black shrug sweater.

  “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas called; they want their costume back,” Bonnie said with a smirk. She turned back and looked again as Winifred took her seat. Her jeans slid below her hips, revealing a hot-pink thong. Bonnie looked back at Kris and said, “So tell me, do old ladies bearing whale tails turn you on?” Kris didn’t know what to say. He shook his head as his cheeks flushed pink.

  We briefly explained to Kris that the scantily clad sixty-something and her date were our bosses. Five minutes later, Winifred and John were joined by Gino Righetti and another man that I hadn’t seen before.

  “Interesting. Check that out, Bonnie,” I said.

  Bonnie turned again to see Gino and the unknown man. The unknown man was tall and large. He had very dark skin and eyes. He had a large frame and a muscular build with a handsome, chiseled face. He was well over six feet tall.

  “Do you know who that other man is?” I asked Bonnie. “He looks familiar. He reminds me of someone.”

  Bonnie turned her head to get a better look. “If I’m not mistaken, he’s been in the municipal building, handing in a tax payment.”

  “I guess he’s a resident of Coral Beach?”

  Kris spoke up. “I know him; he’s a customer of mine at Bratz.”

  “Who is he?” I asked.

  “I can’t think of his name right now, but he always reminds me of that former football player, Dwayne Johnson.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Bonnie said. “He does look like Dwayne Johnson. I didn’t like him so much in that Tooth Fairy movie, though.”

  “What did you say?” I said to Bonnie, with my eyes wide open.

  “Um, I didn’t like him in the Tooth Fairy movie.”

  “Tooth fairy. Babs Todaro,” I said.

  Bonnie knew exactly what I was getting at. Kris was confused. I told him it was a long story and that I’d fill him in on it someday, but the gist was that there was an old lady that kept talking about a tooth fairy, and perhaps the tooth fairy was this guy.

  “I wish I knew his name.”

  “Go over there and say hello, see if they introduce you,” Bonnie said.

  “Oh, hell no. I’m not going over there. Winifred will insult me. I get enough abuse at work; I don’t need it on my own personal time too,” I said.

  “Do I really have to do all the dirty work?” Bonnie said as she rose from her seat.

  “Bonnie! No! Don’t go over there.”

  “Relax,” Bonnie said as she walked toward their table. I crouched down as low as I could to avoid being spotted.

  I saw Bonnie extend her hand to Gino and shake it. Then she shook the unknown man’s hand. She said something to John and Winifred, then continued her walk to the ladies’ room. When she returned, she said, “His name is Drake Taylor.” I almost lost my dinner. I tried to control the look on my face. Kris excused himself to the men’s room.

  “Bonnie, that guy, Drake, he owns the mortgage company that has been making those extra tax payments to John, Marc, and Winifred. There’s something suspicious going on.”

  Bonnie pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the four of them.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. It seems like a good idea to have some proof of something, in case…”

  “In case of what?”

  “I don’t know yet. Something seems off. I wonder if Gino and/or the mortgage guy did something…like gave John and Winifred the tickets to the game. At the least, I would think that’s some sort of an ethical conflict.”

  “We don’t know where they got their tickets from; maybe they bought their own tickets.”

  “I don’t know. Can’t hurt to have a picture of the four of them together, though,” Bonnie said.

  Kris returned from the men’s room and we left the restaurant to find our seats for the game. I tried to put Winifred, John, Drake, and Gino out of my head and focus on Kris. The closer we got to the ice, the more I forgot about who I saw at the restaurant…we had front row seats! I had never gotten to sit front row before. Hockey was something I had enjoyed since I was a teenager. I always tried to go to at least one major league game a year. I was a big Devils’ fan. Having Kris alongside me, high-fiving me when they scored, made the game that much more fun.

  Jayce finally arrived around the time the second period started. I saw Bonnie and Jayce embrace each other like they hadn’t seen each other in months. They were so in love. They kissed and hugged. It made me a little jealous. I wanted that kind of love in my life. I wanted Kris to hug and kiss me. The most I got was an arm around my shoulder for about a minute all during the night.

  The game ended in a four-three win for the Devils. We were all smiles leaving the arena. We found our limo driver out front and piled in the limo, which took us home. Back at my house, I invited Kris in for a drink. He agreed. I poured out two glasses of a nice ice wine, perfect for the end of the evening. We finished our wine, and Kris said that he’d better get going. I walked him to the front door. He turned the knob and opened the door to let himself out. I was utterly confused at this point. I didn’t understand why this guy hadn’t kissed me since New Year’s Eve. He kept taking me out on dates. He didn’t let me pay. Did he see me as only a friend? Did he not like me in that way? Whatever the reason, I had had enough.

  He took a step out of the front door, onto the porch, and said, “I’ll see ya soon.”

  I asked, “That’s it?”

  Holding the storm door open, he looked at me, confused, and said, “What do you mean?”

  I stared into his big, gorgeous eyes and, with a burst of confidence, I put my hands on my hips and said, “That’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

  Kris blushed a little, smiled slightly, then bit his bottom lip. He glanced down, seemingly trying to think of something to say. After what seemed like a considerable amount of time, he looked back up at me and repeated himself. “What do you mean?”

  “I think you know what I mean,” I retorted.

  “I’m shy,” he said with another blush.

  “You weren’t shy on New Year’s.”

  “I had a little to drink.”

  “Well, okay then, if you’re just going to leave, I guess I’ll see you,” I said.

  He was still standing on the front porch, holding the storm door. He said, “I was waiting for you to make the first move.”

  “You’re the guy; you’re supposed to make the first move
.”

  He hesitated. He looked toward his car and I thought that was it. That I had said too much. That he didn’t want to kiss me again. A wave of disappointment washed over me. I looked down and waited for him to leave. All of a sudden, he rushed back into my house and wrapped his strong arms around my waist. He kissed me deeply and passionately, like I had never been kissed before. I felt the blood rush to parts of me that hadn’t been awake in several years. He was, absolutely, without a doubt, one of the best kissers that I had experienced. I wished it didn’t have to end.

  He stopped kissing me and looked deep into my eyes. “If I don’t stop now, things are going to get out of control.”

  I couldn’t answer. In a way, I wanted things to get out of control. Things like that hadn’t happened to me in years. After a few moments of silence and another long kiss, I said, “Okay.”

  He whispered in my ear, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  He gave me a third deep, sexy kiss, then he turned and left my house. I watched him walk to his car. Then he tripped. I laughed. I was happy he didn’t fall and hurt himself. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was on Cloud Nine. I couldn’t be sure, because it was dark outside, but I think I saw him turn several shades of red before he got into his car and drove away. I couldn’t stop smiling.

  As I dozed off to sleep that night, I tried to piece everything together in my head. The tooth fairy could have been Drake Taylor. Drake owned the mortgage company that was double paying on taxes for Marc, Winifred, John, and some of the planning board members. Babs had told me she saw Marc handing an envelope of money to the tooth fairy. She also told me her nephew was friends with the tooth fairy. Sylvia from the nail salon told me that Gino Righetti was Babs’ nephew. So, if the tooth fairy was Drake Taylor, then Babs wasn’t crazy when she said that her nephew was friends with the tooth fairy. So was she crazy when she said Marc handed the tooth fairy an envelope containing money? Considering what I had seen firsthand in Atlantic City, I didn’t think so.