The Story of Charlie Mullins: The Man in the Middle. Jim Wygand
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“What a schemer! You set me up, Gina,” Charlie laughed.
“A woman’s wiles, Charlie Mullins. You men think you are the only ones who make plans? I have a life too Charlie and I want to know where it’s going.”
“You know now, pretty lady?”
“Yep, and once I talk to my uncle I am going to put the pedal to the metal, mister. You’re going to have to meet him, you know.”
“Is that so terrible?” Charlie asked. “How bad can he be if he is your uncle?”
“Well, like I said, he is protective and might even be just a bit jealous.”
“I suppose all fathers are like that with their daughters.” Charlie replied.
“Charlie, you’ve made me very happy tonight – happier than I thought I might ever be. This thing of ours will grow Charlie. We are going to be happy, I just know it!”
“Like I said, Gina, I will never do anything to hurt you. Maybe I will disappoint you on occasion, but I will never hurt you.”
Charlie looked around and the jazz cellar had practically emptied. The musicians were packing up to head off to some after-hours jam session with their friends and the waiters were standing around waiting for the last patrons to leave so they could clear the tables. One of them was courteous (or perhaps foolish) enough to ask Charlie if he and the “missus” would like one more round. He was obviously hoping neither would want another drink. Charlie thanked him and asked for the check. The waiter appeared relieved and rushed back with the requisite leather folder with the bill inside. Charlie paid and he and Gina climbed the stairs to flag down a taxi.
The night air was cool and Gina said, “Why don’t we walk a couple of blocks before we get a cab, Charlie? It’s a beautiful evening.”
They walked holding hands for about 3 blocks until a cab appeared and Charlie flagged it down. He gave the driver the address of the trattoria. “Come back up tomorrow, Charlie, will you? We can take a walk in the park and celebrate this evening. I’ll talk to my uncle in the morning and then we can set a date for you to meet him. OK?”
“Oh yeah!” Charlie exclaimed, “You can bet I’ll be back. I don’t even want to go back to Shoreville!”
“One day you won’t Charlie,” Gina said softly, “one day you won’t. I promise you.”
When they got to the trattoria, Johnny the waiter was holding what seemed to be his constant vigil. Gina kissed Charlie passionately and melted into him.” Charlie thought he was going to explode. They pulled apart slowly. “Gina, tomorrow can’t come soon enough. Call me when you finish talking to your uncle and I’ll be up here in a flash. Your bodyguard is on duty again, I see.”
“Oh yeah, Johnny. He’s a dear. Be careful driving home, Charlie and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll call.”
Charlie got out of the cab and waved to Johnny. Johnny nodded back and watched to make sure Charlie got into the parking garage safely and then watched the cab pull away.
XI
After eight-o-clock Mass on Sunday Gina drove over to her uncle’s house. She pressed the control device to open the gate to the property, pulled into the long driveway and drove around to the back of the house. She entered through the back door into the kitchen. Her Uncle Carlo was sitting at the kitchen table sipping an espresso. She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, Uncle Carlo, how was your week?”
“Same as always, Gina, it was calm, thanks. How ‘bout yours?”
“Actually pretty busy, Uncle Carlo. Charlie and I went out a couple of times and again last night. I want to talk to you about us.”
“Eh, ma ché, bambina mia, this sounds serious!”
“It is serious, Uncle Carlo. I really do want this guy in my life. He makes me truly happy and I told him so. This is going to grow into something, Uncle Carlo, something very serious and very beautiful.”
“Well, I know he hits a mean softball, Gina….”
“Uncle Carlo, have you been spying?” Gina said, surprised.
“Ah, bambina, you are so excitable. Maybe you could call it spying. But I was just checking on him. Nothing invasive, just a kind of overview. You know how important you are to me.”
“Yeah, I know Uncle Carlo, but I’m willing to bet you came up with nothing bad, right?”
“Right, my little niece. And you were right about his looking ‘Italian’. Nice lookin fellow, your ‘Irish’.”
“Well, you don’t need to spy anymore. I want you to meet him!”
“Well!” Carlo replied, “It sounds like you got something really going with this guy. Are you sure you know where you’re going with this?”
“I’m positive, Uncle Carlo, I’ve thought it through over and over. I’m sure he’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me. He can hold his own with me. He’s neither intimidated nor mesmerized by my financial situation. He’s a gentleman at all times. My friends love him. He’s from a nice solid family. He’s loyal. He’s….”
“Managia,” interrupted her uncle, “you make this guy sound like Saint Anthony!”
“God, I hope not!” laughed Gina, “I’m not looking for a saint. I’m looking for a man in my life.”
Carlo laughed out loud. “Ah, that’s my bambina. You always did know what you want. I’m sure that even if I said I didn’t like the guy, you would see him anyway.”
“No, Uncle Carlo, I wouldn’t see him that way. I am just sure that you will like him so I don’t think that is going to be an issue.”
“Gina, my little baby, you know how to wrap me around your finger so easily. It scares me sometimes. Here I am a tough businessman and I’m like soft clay around you. You know I trust you, I brought you up so I know how your devious mind works when you want something and nobody, I mean nobody, can resist.”
“Well, Uncle Carlo, will you meet him or not?”
“How could I say no? Of course I’ll meet your ‘Irish’. I have to travel up to New York next week, but the week after, I’ll be home. The guy works, right? I figure you will want to bring him by on a Saturday or Sunday. Why don’t you bring him by for lunch on the Sunday after next?”
“Oh, Uncle Carlo, thank you. I just know you’ll like him! I just know it!”
“How like a little girl you are sometimes, Gina. If this ‘Irish’ meets with your approval and he makes you as happy as you look right now, you know I will approve. I think the meeting will be more for him than for me.”
“You’re not going to call him ‘Irish’ are you Uncle Carlo?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. It