Ginny's Story A novel by Karen Lockhart Copyright© 2017 Karen Lockhart All Rights Reserved.

“Don't you worry”. Three little words that either spelled comfort for me or as I fear, trouble for a twenty something-year-old in blue, who right now was happily just going to bed not far away.

That look of Pete's scared me a little. I knew that very soon he'd be having a discussion with that young cop.

Well, not my problem; my problem was getting my ward a driver's license, and a Social Security Number. But not tonight!

Before going to bed, Ellen and I compared notes on our 'dates'. Describing the dinner I made that night had Ellen's stomach starting to growl. While she talked about the play, I served her a large slice of tiramisu. I had a bowl of the lemon gelato and an espresso without the Sambuca.

I was determined to see “The Flying Mouse” with Kevin although I think Gilbert and Sullivan might be his limit on expanding his horizons and I feared Shakespeare might be out of the question.

On Friday, I dug into what was required to get Wendy a real driver's license. First, she needed a learner's permit which is good for two years; there was a $30 fee for that. Then she needed a vision test, and must get 18 out of 25 questions correct in the exam. Finally, she had to take a driver's education course.

For the actual driver's license, she needed to take a road test with a Registry of Motor Vehicles examiner, who in Massachusetts is a State Trooper. I'd speak to Pete on that. But the hardest was the SSN number.

I thought the easiest way was to get the number of a child who had died and have Wendy use that. I'd ask Steve about that the next time he came by the job. First, sign Wendy up for the driver's school and we'd worry about everything else later. Ellen must have been rubbing off on me; normally, I'd be running around worrying about the littlest thing.

Wendy came in, now it was our turn to ask about last night since before Ellen came home, she was sound asleep.

Ellen sat down with a huge cup of coffee, and asked: “Did you and Billy like the movie?”

“Oh yes, I told Auntie Ginny that last night, it was great!”

Ellen smiled, “And Billy, did he like it as much as you did?”

Where was she going with this I wondered, oh, now I knew.

“Yeah, he did, he couldn't take his eyes off her when she was Wonder Woman.”

Wendy being as smart as I thought, smiled at Ellen, said, “That is when I let him see the movie. We spent most of it kissing in the back row.”

Not sure if she was just getting Ellen all wound up or not, I went and poured a coffee for Wendy and myself. Ellen was dumbfounded, not a word came to her for a minute. She started to mumble about killing Kevin and castrating some “little bastard” without naming any names.

“Okay, tell me everything,” I said as I handed her a coffee, “And the truth this time.”

Wendy took a sip, smiled, looked at Ellen, and laughed. “Boy, are you easy Aunt Ellen, you believed that?”

“Wendy,” I cautioned, “Just think of us as your girlfriends; start with when the two of you left the condo.”

“We sat in our seats all the way to the movie, Kevin has bucket seats with a big center console in his truck. We couldn't hug even if we wanted. At the theater, he opened my door and held my hand, up to the snack bar. I ordered popcorn and Cokes while he bought tickets.

“We actually sat in the middle of the theater. After a while, I snuggled with him, and Billy put his arm around my shoulder. It became a little hard to eat popcorn then, so I fed him! He started to rub my thigh, but I swatted his hand away each time. He got the message, Aunties, and behaved.”

Ellen heaved a sigh of relief, then started to get angry. My laughing put an end to that, and soon the three of us were giggling. At this point, Steve Brady walked in. I think he wanted to leave, but Ellen came out with, “Boss, where have you been?”

“Just what I need, a bunch of goofy females, I get the same thing at home. I don't need it at work.”

“Wow, someone got out of the wrong side of the bed today,” Ellen said.

Steve filled a mug with black coffee, and went into Ellen's office, gesturing for her to follow.

“Steve, before you leave, could I speak with you?” I asked.

He nodded, and turned back to Ellen. Wendy went back to her games, and I went back to filing invoices.

The coffee truck came, and over breakfast sandwiches, Steve asked what I needed. I explained Wendy wanting a driver's license and what paperwork was needed. Steve was impressed about how we got the birth certificate and said he was going to pass that on to his pal.

He just laughed at the Social Security Number, “That's how you got yours, no sweat, kiddo. Let me call Bobby, how old is Wendy? What 's her birthday?”

Wendy piped up, “I'm seventeen, my birthday is January 15, 2000.”

“Well she's certainly not shy, is she?" Steve asked the ceiling. "Hand me the phone Ginny, and dial 978-555-0908."

We then listened to a one-sided conversation. It went kind of like this.

“Hey, jerk water, it's your first Sargent. Yeah, okay, she's in college now. Boston College, yeah yeah, the Jesuit place. Look, what I need is a Soc Number. For a girl. The birthday is January 15, 2000. Somewhere down the South Shore. I don't know, I think it's 5 ½ points. Put you down for a nickle, done! Now when will I get the SSN number? Wednesday? Not sooner? Yeah, you're an asshole too. Thanks.”

“All set, girls, Bobby promised it on Wednesday. When I get it, I expect three kisses from you guys. Oh, Sugar! Look at the time, if I want to get these bets in I got to scramble! See ya later kids.”

And out the door and yard, he flew, with a big spray of gravel.

Ellen looked at me and asked, “Do you understand what he was saying?”

“Sure, first Bobby asked about his wife and daughter...” Ellen rudely interrupted me.

“I know that, I mean '5 ½ ' and a 'nickel'?”

“Easy my pampered friend, 5 ½ is the number of points the Patriots are favored by, and a nickel is $500. A dime is $1000. If you bet on the Patriots, they must win by 6 points, if you bet on the other team, if they lose by 5 points or less, you win.”

“Are you saying if the other team still loses, they win?” Ellen asked.

“Yes, tomorrow when the coffee truck comes, I'll ask the driver for a 'bookie card', and we'll make a bet.”

“A bookie card? What is that?” Wendy asked. "I lived on the street for two years, but I never heard of those.”

“Well, it's a card listing all the professional football games, and about 20 or 25 college games. It shows the points each favorite team is giving the other team, and the number of points the two teams will score. Usually you must pick at least 4 teams. All 4 correct, wins $5. if you play 5 teams and they win you get $10. Each card costs $1.”

“You can pick either team or if the total score will be over or under the listed amount. Really simple!"

“That sounds like fun, can we play one tomorrow?” Ellen asked.

“Sure, but don't you think your boyfriend the State Trooper might frown on his girlfriend gambling with bookies?” I asked with a smirk.

“We'll play it together; if anyone asks, it's yours.”

“Sure toss me under the bus with your boyfriend copper. You know those cards are illegal, right?”

Now Ellen smirked, “They are for information only, right?”

“Oh you minx, you knew all the time what they are, didn't you? Well, you can find them yourself then.”

The next day, with two cards in hand, we sat down and picked 4 teams each. Oklahoma State to beat TCU by 10 points; Boston College by 3 over Syracuse; Dallas Cowboys to beat the New York Jets by 13 points and over 42 points total in the New England Patriots, Baltimore Ravens game. My card differed in that I picked Syracuse getting the 3 points.

On Wednesday, we handed the cards to the truck driver, and Steve came roaring into the site. It seems Steve is always flying back and forth. When he saw what we had, he grabbed one, quickly marked it and handed it back to the driver with a $20 dollar bill.

“If I win that's a C note, you know $100."

I followed Ellen and Steve into the office, Wendy was sitting nervously looking at Steve.

He looked at me and said, “You owe me a kiss, and so does the kid, Here you go, a Social Security card issued in Springfield, Massachusetts.”

Wendy squealed, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, saying, “Thank you, Thank you!