PREVIEWS OF THINGS TO COME

 

 

    "Lou, Wake up!  Wake up!"  I opened my eyes and saw Mary standing over me, ready for work.  "Wake up," she screamed frantically, "my car...its been stolen!"  That was not what I wanted to hear.  I had but a few hours of sleep.  The car must have been recently ripped because it was there when I got home from work.  I suggested she call the police then wake me up for a ride to work when through.

    "Lou," I could hear her soft sexy voice and feel a tug on my shoulder, "I talked to the police."  I looked up now knowing I was going to have to give her that ride.  She started to gently stroke me. Her look of anger was gone and replaced with one of seduction.  She smiled, "They said the car wasn't stolen...it was repossessed."

    Now I was angry.  Ever since she quit Caesar's neither she nor her sister made one payment on time.  Mary had gone back to work the fall following the birth of Nicole.  I wanted her to go back to Caesar's, but she refused saying she hated the people in the casino and would never work in one again.  I got aggravated.  It was OK and expected of me to do when she herself would not. I pointed how the new income was not going to enable her to break even when she had ongoing financial responsibilities.  I wanted to go back to school or find a job where the cost of living was lower.  I showed her a two-year plan devised to get us out of Atlantic County with $50,000, but she would not hear of it.  I pleaded and told her I wanted to stop dealing.  Two years, I said, two years and we could both be out of here. She just went with a cushy 9-5 job making a salary of $300 a week before taxes or day care. I was stuck in the casino paying all the bills while she worked to bring home under $150 a week.  The result was that we could never save a penny and lived from paycheck to paycheck.

    She was two or three months behind and I knew that the finance company was getting aggravated because every morning, while she was at work, they would call and wake me.  And it wasn't just for the car.  Everyone was calling.  Every credit card company for every loan she ever took out were all bugging the hell out of me.  She must have been working five or six months by then, but still could not make enough to pay her bills.  I told her that would happen but she didn't care. That woman had no sense of responsibility.

    She called the finance company to find out where the car was.  This time, the guy she had been acting like a bitch to and hanging up on for the past six or eight months played the same game with her.  It took all day, but she finally got a number to call.

    They would not give her the car unless the balance due (which was $6000) was paid off.  Her father laughed when she asked to borrow the money.  They sold it at auction for $3000 and came after her for the other three.  When she could not pay, the phone calls kept coming.

    Now the question came, what were we going to do?  I was able to talk her into letting me get a bike I had my eye on for the past year after having sold my last one when I learned of my approaching fatherhood. I told her if she made the bike's monthly payments she could use my car everyday.  She agreed.  I was back in my riding glory, until I found out Mary would not make a payment.

 

    April 14, 1989 was Nicole's first birthday.  Again it was fun having all the Ingemars together in one room. At least I had my granny and Nicole's Bubba with me.  There was also Karen's new boyfriend, Chris Balls.  He brought more tension to Ray Ingemar than Barbara did. Chris was twice Karen's age and he and Ray did not get along.  I couldn't wait for the party to end.  One thing positive came out of that day; it was the first time Nicole walked.  It must have been the excitement of the party.  It could have been her trying to break the ice.  But you should have seen the face on that little girl.  We were all so proud of her.

    Around that time, Mary began to nag me.  She nagged me to get married, she nagged me to get full-time at work, and she nagged me to buy a house.  The more she nagged and the more she cut me off, the more I doubted her motives.

    I was nagged about getting married.  Mary called different caterers and halls where we could have the ceremony. She dragged Nicole and me to the Renault Winery.  We stopped in for the wine tasting where Nicole was a hit with the tourists.  Afterwards, Mary decided that was where she wanted to have the festivities and had me fork over a $500 down payment to reserve a date.

    Her nagging me to buy a house was getting on my nerves as well.  She wouldn't make love with me, she wouldn't work for us, and she had a credit rating that would guarantee she never got another credit card for the next ten years.  We had no money in the bank, but she would drag me to look at houses.  And a house that was a shoebox in poor to fair condition cost over $100,000 thanks to Atlantic City.  But we had to look at ones that cost $120,000--payments over $1200 a month.  That was more than two of my paychecks.  Which brings me to another complaint.

    My job wasn't good enough.  She knew that doing it meant stepping on buttons to steal from people and that I hated it.  That was why she would never do it.  I figured living with a woman who understood what it meant to do that job would have a little empathy towards me.  Nope, not her.  I was working six days a week, but didn't have the full-time benefits or the same days off and that drove her up the wall.

    She just couldn't get it.  I brought home $550 a week and could not save one dollar of it.  She was bouncing from job to job and had delusions that we had the $15,000 we would need to buy a house.  Mary would get better jobs making up to $100 more a week, but would quit because she thought them to be boring.  She got to have the normal nine to five with weekends and holidays off, only when it came to me, I had to stay in the mines.  And I had to.  Someone had to pay the bills.  I worked five days a week dealing for eight or nine hours and then stay after the casino closed for another hour to pick up an additional $15 to $25 dollars counting tokes.  On one of my days off I sold change for twelve hours.  I was putting in 60 hours a week inside a place I hated more than anything on Earth and Mary had no respect for it.  Never once did she show me her appreciation.

 

    Mary was spending most of the summer of '89 with the baby at her fatherís house as she did the previous summer.  He had a home he built on the Delaware Bay in North Cape May Beach.  If I didn't bike down there after work I would go home.  I usually went home.  What was the sense driving all the way there just to sleep the day away and get up to go back to work while everyone else enjoyed the weekend? I had the house to myself and could write in peace. I would call Mary and Nicole in the mornings when I thought they were awake and Mary would always ask what I was doing up.  I never told her the truth until one afternoon when I told her a little too much.

    We had a big fight late in the summer.  Mary took the baby and went to her father's house.  The Billy Joel song, "Tell Her About It", kept playing every time I turned on the radio.  I decided I did not want to lose Nicole, so I went down there to patch things up.  We went crabbing and it was there in the boat that I let her know of my plans.

    We were drinking and getting drunk.  We had our own rowboat while her father went with his crew to another spot in the marsh. The Garden State Parkway was behind us and a view of Wildwood was in front. There was tension when we started, but after some time we loosened up.

    I told her how I felt about her being selfish for making me work in the casino and how she was neglecting me.  She was just saying fine to everything I said.  Then I mentioned how I wanted to go back to school and one day write a book exposing those gangsters in the casino for what they had been putting the world through. She looked at me and slurred the words, "Fine, do whatever you want."  I became upset.  She was yesing me like I was a little kid with a fantasy that would never come true.  Still, she was now the only person who knew my real goal in life.  There was no way I could let her go with that information. I was going to have to make this work.

    That fall, about the same time I yelled at Jose and Howard over Beatrice, Mary started nagging for a vacation. I had not had one since visiting Rubin in Florida some three years ago.  There was one problem though, money. My father sold us a couple of frequent flyer passes for cheap and we bought an Orlando package we could afford for $350.  It was nothing fancy--The Holiday Inn in Kissamee--but we were getting out of New Jersey and we would be alone.

    We took our vacation during December 11th through the 17th.  Mary was working a new job at the time for Paul D'Amato and got the week off as a paid vacation.  (Trump paid me for mine as well, $160, the salary they paid me each week to be a creep.)  The trip was nice, but Mary had an excuse every night for a headache.

    When we came back from vacation we topped it off with a Rolling Stones concert in Atlantic City on the 17th.  The show sucked and I felt I was ripped off for the $37.50 I paid for each ticket.  And those were the cheap seats.  The concert was pure Donald Trump ego.  It was just his way of meeting Mick and the boys. 

    The next day at work I was talking with a scalper who was playing on my table.  Scalpers were as low as dealers.  Anyone who could make money over charging for something as great as live music was slime. He told me he followed the entire tour since it started and didn't take a beating until the Atlantic City shows.  When he told me he took a bath I was happy for him, and then I stole all that he made.

 

    I was still pissed at Dick Walter for dicking (pun intended) me. I was no longer dealing with him when he contacted me and said Astronomy magazine called and told him I was placing ads for the Christmas issues.  He asked if he could place them so he could receive the discount I was not getting and I said sure. He placed over $3000 worth of ads with different magazines, but I only paid him for half. I think he found out from my patent lawyer that I was on to him and he never called back for the rest of the money. In fact, he never called me again.  He is either guilty or dead.

 
 
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Dedication

Behind These Eyes

Chapter  1 - OVERTURE

Chapter  2 - IN THE BEGINNING

Chapter  3 - MY FIRST SHOT

Chapter  4 - CHAD AND THE DEALER

Chapter  5 - THE DECISION TO DEAL

Chapter  6 - LICENSE TO STEAL

Chapter  7 - CASINO SCHOOL

Chapter  8 - SPRING '84

Chapter  9 - GETTING IN--THE AUDITION

Chapter 10 - BREAKING IN

Chapter 11 - LEARNING THE BIZ

Chapter 12 - SHOOTING DICE: THE HOOK

Chapter 13 - THE CITY, THE CASINOS, AND THE MOB

Chapter 14 - THE MOVE TO GET OUT

Chapter 15 - FIRED BY THE MAFIA

Chapter 16 - ALONG COMES MARY

Chapter 17 - THE TROP

Chapter 18 - OUTSIDE THE BIZ

Chapter 19 - BACK IN THE BIZ--ANOTHER AUDITION

Chapter 20 - THE BIRTH OF NICOLE

Chapter 21 - TRUMP: THE ART OF THE STEAL

Chapter 22 - PREVIEWS OF THINGS TO COME

Chapter 23 - THE BREAK-UP

Chapter 24 - THE NUT HOUSE

Chapter 25 - RECOVERY

Chapter 26 - PARENTAL ALIENATION

Chapter 27 - FIRED FROM TRUMP

Chapter 28 - I FIGHT FOR NICOLE

Chapter 29 - THE RUN-A-ROUND

Chapter 30 - THROWING IN THE TOWEL

Chapter 31 - WHAT NOW

GLOSSARY