To Become A Con Artist

Chapter Twenty-Two

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After mass on Sunday, as I waited for my mother to finish her discussion about rising rent prices with Mrs. Broad, I noticed Jean descending the steps with her parents by her side and her attention focused on a loose thread hanging from her white satin gloves.

"Jean!" I called as she got closer to me. She sprung her head up and our eyes met. I gave her a gentle smirk hoping that all was well with us. However, Jean did not return the greeting.

"Yes, Claire?"

"Do you still refuse to talk to me?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips.

"Yes I do." She straightened her posture and nodded her head, "Now, have a good day Claire, tell your mother I said hello." As she ran to catch up with her mother and father I stood there in disgusted shock.

Jean was absolutely immature about this entire situation. We'd been best friends for so long yet Jean could not bring herself to get over something so minuscule.

Fine! I decided. I was doing just swell without her. Plus, why would I even bother acquainting myself with anyone who enjoyed the leisure company of Ruby.

"Come on Claire!" Mary called with my mother and brother up ahead. They hardly waited as I trotted down the steps of the church.

My mother had not yet questioned my whereabouts lately rarely ever asked about my fictitious secretarial occupation. I left her money every week that Leo provided me with and that was all. I believed that as long as she felt we were comfortable then there was no need to constantly interrogate. I had even been able to get us all new hats and shoes as the summer was rapidly approaching and the weather was becoming much warmer. We were no where near wealthy, oh no, however we had been able to buy groceries each week and rid the home of some of our ramshackle items.

Leo had said to me, "you don't want to just throw a hundred dollars on the kitchen table this early. Do little by little, especially if you don't want the neighbors talking. Neighbors always talk." So I'd taken heed of his advice and one week I would set fifty cents down and other weeks I would set four dollars down. I knew my mother was proud of me. She'd never say it more than once but I knew.

Then one night, as she stirred the pot of stew and I chopped carrots, she said, "I found make up in your room." Makeup? I had never been so clumsy to leave make up laying around my room. My makeup stayed in my purse or with Anne.

"Makeup? I don't wear makeup." I said dumbfounded, chopping the carrots a bit faster.

"There was red lipstick and golden eyeshadow. All those bold cheap colors that flappers wear." She tsked, shaking her head. I gaped in false disbelief. I had to admit, ever since I started conning my acting skills were superb.

"Red lipstick! Well I can assure you mama that makeup is not mine." I turned my back to her, wiping some sweat from above my lip.

She would know I was lying. What with my bob fashioned hair and extended nights out, she would put all the pieces together. I feared the wrath of my mother but if conning had taught me anything it was to stand my ground at all costs, something clearly exhibited by the amount of lies we told on a daily basis. Anne had done it at Grand Central Station the day she met Leo and Tony. However, to my surprise, my mother mashed her lips together and nodded.

"I thought not." I turned to her with a cocked eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"Well don't you see..." She stopped stirring the stew and added the carrots that had been finely chopped.