Pound Foolish (Windy City Neighbors Book 4) (37 page)

     Going back to his computer, he made the transfer. With a new infusion of money, his first two bids won . . . but then the losing streak returned. Fighting panic, he called on his credit card for another three hundred and got a message:
“Card not acknowledged. Contact bank.”

     What? How could that be? He’d just used it not thirty minutes before. He dug out his wallet to find the card and call the number on the back. Wait . . . why not check his balance online, so when he called he could talk specific numbers. It took him a few minutes to log in, and then he saw the problem: He was within $238 of his maximum.

     Rats! He hadn’t known they were that close to their $5,000 limit. He stared at the screen a few moments. Should he quit? But if he did . . . he hated to think of how much he’d lost. He couldn’t accept that. All he needed was one more chance!

     And there was still one way to get it . . .

     Back on TopOps, he charged two hundred bucks against his credit card, and it went through. With a sigh of relief, he set up his next bid. Only twenty minutes before the site closed. Could he recoup his losses in so little time? He bid all two hundred—and won . . . and won . . . then won again. All right! That put him up by $420, and there was still time for one more bid. If he put the whole $620 that was in his account on the next bid and won, he’d end the day with $1,054—certainly nowhere near his morning high, but at least he’d be able to sleep that night, not having gone in the hole for the day.

     He watched the trend of the ticker. It had been declining over the last hour, but now it was just bobbing up and down. He set up his bid as a “put”—predicting the US dollar would go down—with all $620 on the line for a one-minute run. At three minutes before closing, he clicked and waited, watching the second hand go around and the value frame change from green to red to green. His heart was pounding as the seconds counted down . . . and when the bell sounded, it was red. The value of the US dollar had slightly declined against the euro.

     He’d won.

     “All right!” He leaped from his chair and jumped around the living room.

     “What happened, Daddy? Why are you yelling?” Becky and Nate came thundering down the stairs like a pair of wildebeests.

     Laughing, Greg went down on one knee and held his arms wide to embrace his kids as they ran into the living room. “Oh, nothing. Daddy just . . . just earned a little money at a very important time. It wasn’t that much, but it was exciting.” He gave them another squeeze. “I love you both.”

     Standing up, Greg wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. “Where’s Mom?” He didn’t really want to tell her how desperate he’d gotten or how excited he’d become at climbing out of the hole he’d gotten himself in that day. “Is she downstairs?”

     “No. She said she was going over to talk to Mrs. Bentley.”

     “Oh. Okay. Well, you guys can run back up and play some more.”

     “Can’t we watch TV?” Nate stuck out his lip. “I’m bored.”

     “Have you watched any yet today?”

     “Only a little, not my full time.”

     “I don’t want to watch TV,” Becky said. “I’m going back upstairs.” And she darted out of the room.

     “Please, Daddy.”

     “Well, all right. But when Mom gets home, if she says stop, that means stop. Agreed?”

     “O-o-ka-a-y.” Nate left for the basement, head down, as if Greg had given him a punishment rather than a privilege.

     Greg returned to his computer. Without sitting down, he noted his balance with TopOps had indeed returned to $1,054. What a relief. He exited the site and shut down his computer. It was, indeed, time to quit, and he felt wasted.

     But the thought of Nicole talking to Estelle Bentley reminded him that this was Tuesday night, and Harry would probably be asking if he wanted to attend his men’s Bible study. He didn’t really feel like going. If Harry called, he’d come up with some kind of excuse.

* * * *

Greg was still feeling good when Nicole called them to the dinner table. As he reached for Nate’s hand on one side of him and Becky’s on the other before blessing the food, Nicole spoke up. “As we thank God for our food, I think we should pray for Tabby’s brothers. Okay?”

     “Sounds good to me.” Greg said, and he added Destin and Tavis to his usual mealtime prayer.

     “An’ help them get better so Tabby can come babysit us s’more,” Nate added before Greg said his “Amen.”

     Greg and Nicole exchanged glances as the kids dived into the individual pizzas they’d helped their mom make. Nicole cleared her throat. “Estelle told me some more about what happened to the Jasper boys.”

     The way she said it made Greg tense. “Oh, yeah?” He tried to keep his voice casual as he reached for the salad dressing. “What’d she say?”

     “Turns out the boys weren’t selling drugs. Have to admit that’s what I thought at first. But police said they were clean, and the only thing in Destin’s backpack was that energy drink of yours and some homework. But apparently, there’s a turf war going on in that area between rival gangs. One of the gangs probably thought Destin and Tavis were trying to take over their corner, and that’s why they got shot.”

    
That energy drink of yours . . .
Greg frowned.

     Becky—always the one with the big ears—spoke up. “But if they weren’t selling drugs, why did the gangbangers shoot them?”

     “Well, maybe they just
thought
the Jasper boys were selling drugs.” Nicole kept her eyes on Greg. “I suppose if they were selling SlowBurn on a corner like that, it’d be pretty easy for someone to mistake that for peddling drugs. You know, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, somebody’s going to think it’s a duck.”

     Greg frowned. It was the same argument Jared had used the night before. “You’re making it sound like SlowBurn was at fault.” He knew his voice sounded testy. “But I never told those boys to take over some drug dealer’s spot. And I’m sure Destin wasn’t trying to do that either. It was an accident. Wrong place at the wrong time, is all.”

     Nicole suddenly looked flustered. “Oh, Greg, I’m not suggesting it was your fault. Like you said,
wrong place at the wrong time
. That’s all.” Her voice trailed off as she pushed back her chair and headed for the kitchen. “Uh, there are a couple more little pizzas. Who’s ready for more?”

     “Me!” Nate yelled, his mouth still full of his first one.

     But Greg pushed his plate away. He suddenly didn’t feel very hungry.

* * * *

Greg ignored the ringing of his phone the next day when he didn’t recognize the number. He needed to focus on his next bid. Things were still up and down in terms of his profits, and at the moment he was down again. Just as he won the next bid, the phone rang again—same number. He answered.

     “Greg, what’s going on?” Nicole’s angry voice yelled through the phone. “Our card’s been denied! What’s happening? Why won’t it go through?”

     “What do you mean? Where are you?”

     “I’m at the grocery store, calling on the pay phone. And it’s really embarrassing. When I tried to pay, it comes back, ‘Card not acknowledged.’ The clerk said that probably means it’s maxed out. Do you know anything about this?”

     Instantly, Greg realized exactly what was going on. He hadn’t put money back on the card since last night. And there’d only been thirty-eight bucks left before they hit their limit.

     “Uh, don’t worry about it, honey. It’s just a mistake. I’ll get it cleared up right away. You still at the store?”

     “Of course. I had to put all my groceries back in the cart and find a phone. This is so embarrassing, Greg. What’s wrong, and how are you going to fix it?”

     “Like I said, it’s just a mistake. How much do you need?”

     There was a big sigh on the other end. “I owe $93.76.”

     Greg knew he had thirty dollars in his wallet. That plus the thirty-eight still available on the card came to $68. “You got any cash on you?”

     “Not that much.”

     “I know, but I’ve got some in my pocket. If you’d come get it—”

     “Come home? What am I supposed to do with my cart?”

     “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you leaving it there for a while, but you . . .” He paused, knowing this would upset her even more. “
Um
, you might have to put some of it back.”

     “What are you talking about?” Her voice was getting louder. “I’m not putting anything back. I only bought what we need, and we need it all. Besides, that’s not fixing it. You said you’d fix it. What’s wrong with our card, anyway?”

     “Just calm down and give me a second, would you?” An alternative was coming to him. He checked his balance on TopOps. His rough morning left him with only $180 in his account. If he transferred a hundred back into the credit account, the card should work. But how long would it take to go through—a minute? an hour? He didn’t know, but it seemed like the only option. “Look, Nikki, give me a few minutes to work out something with the bank. Then you should be able to pay for the whole cartload. Okay?”

     “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? I’ve got two hungry kids with me.”

     “Can’t you give them an energy bar or an apple or something?”

     “Greg, what’s happening? I don’t know if I’m coming or going. People are getting mad, telling me to get out of the way.” Amid background noise, her yelling was turning into hysterical crying. “I don’t know if I’m actually going to be able to pay for these groceries, and I don’t even know if there’s enough gas to get home on, and you want me to just wait here by the phone.”

     “What’s this about gas? You didn’t mention gas before.”

     “The empty light’s on, and I was going to fill up on the way home.”

     “Then just . . . just use whatever cash you’ve got on you.”

     “All right.” Her crying changed to gasping sobs. “But you still haven’t told me what the problem is. I want to know the whole story, Greg.”

     “Sure, sure. When you get home.” Greg got up and paced around the living room, still holding the phone to his ear. “Look, for now just wait there, and I’ll call you back as soon as I know the funds are in the account so you can use the card. Okay?”

     As soon as the phone connection ended, he realized he hadn’t asked her for the number of the pay phone.

Chapter 37

Greg had a moment of panic. How was he supposed to call Nicole back without the number to the pay phone? Wait . . . it had to be in his caller ID. He checked, just to be sure, then took a deep breath. Okay. His first priority was to transfer money from his TopOps account to his credit card so Nicole could pay for her groceries.

     He sent one hundred dollars over.

     Now what? Greg knew it wasn’t like waiting for a paper check to clear, but just how long would the bank’s computers take to register the transfer? He logged on to his credit card account. It still showed only $38.20. He got up and paced around the room, imagining Nicole and the kids waiting at the Jewel. This really was a mess, but all he could do was wait.

     Heading for the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a baggie with half of a personal pizza from the night before. Cold pizza for lunch,
ugh.
But with his first bite he felt guilty. His kids were stuck at the Jewel, hungry and wanting lunch.

     When he returned to the living room, he refreshed his computer screen.

     “Finally!” He pumped his fist.

     Grabbing the phone, he hit Redial. Nicole answered on the first ring.

     “Nicole, the money’s there. Card should work now.”

     “You’re sure? I’m not going through that humiliation again.”

     “Yes, it’s there. Just checked. But when you stop for gas on the way home, don’t use the card. Just put in however much cash you have.”

     “But why can’t I fill it?”

     “Just do what I said.” He didn’t want to explain that the cost of a full tank might max out the card again.

     “I don’t understand. I thought you said you got the card fixed! Greg, what’s going on here? Something’s not right. I . . . I can’t take this anymore.”

     “I know, I know, honey. Just get the groceries. We can talk about it when you get home.”

     A half hour later he heard the back door slam as the kids came in. Greg got up from his computer and went out to help Nicole bring in the groceries. No small talk. Just
looks
as they passed each other on the walk bringing in the shopping bags.

     He set the last bag on the counter. “Uh, I already ate. Had the leftover pizza. You guys go ahead with lunch.” He headed back into the living room. Before she’d arrived home, he’d won one bid that increased his remaining $80 to $136. But then he’d lost $85. Should he try again? Greg sat there staring at the screen, confidence drained and unable to make his move.

     From the direction of the kitchen he heard Nicole hurrying the kids to finish their lunch, then she was on the phone making arrangements to send Nate and Becky across the street to play with the Horowitz children. He looked up as she came in and stood in the archway into the living room. Her eyes were still red from the morning’s ordeal.

     Minimizing the TopOps screen, he got up and gestured toward the couch. “You wanted to talk.” He sat on the edge of the recliner as she sat down, dreading trying to explain their situation to Nicole. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about that money screwup. Won’t happen again.”

     “It already did.” Her voice was tight.

     “What do you mean?”

     She rolled her eyes. “Well, the card worked at the Jewel, so I tried to use it for gas. But I got another ‘Card not acknowledged’ notice.”

     Greg gritted his teeth. “But I told you—”

     “Don’t put this back on me, Greg Singer!” She spat the words out. “I only had eight dollars and some change with me. I’d end up having to go back for more gas within a couple of days. I shouldn’t have to put up with any of this garbage!” She glared at him. “I want you to tell me what’s going on!”