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we deliver a deluxe birthday cake. ” He grunts as he reaches in the trunk and pulls out a bag of balloons.
    â€œUh-huh,” says Gloria Lorraine. “King of Cannoli, huh? I hope you bake better than you lie. Ever hear of Little Moe Chopsticks, Dragon of Dim Sum?”
    Al shakes his head.
    â€œMy third husband,” she says. “Nothing to do with you, AmberLea. Your grandpa was number four.” Then, to Al, she says, “How about Rocco Wings?”
    Al’s whole head goes from leather-interior red to Cadillac white.
    â€œThought so.” Gloria Lorraine smiles. “ He knew Moe and he’s a fan of mine. Now, you could get in my way and make him very angry, or you could help me and have him owe you one. My guess is you wouldn’t mind staying on the move with us a while, since someone clearly wants you gone. If not, we can just leave you here—with your ‘icing sugar.’ I’m sure someone can help you carry it to the bus.”
    Al Capoli, King of Cannoli, bites his lip. His eyes dart around. AmberLea and I stand there. I can’t believe what’s going on. AmberLea’s chin has disappeared again, so maybe she can’t either. Even the dog is quiet. Then Al looks up and his eyes flare, and all of a sudden he hits the pavement in a belly flop. Beyond the Dumpster, through the trees at the edge of the parking lot, I see a black SUV with tinted windows roll by. It keeps going.
    â€œYou can stay here and keep your mouth shut,” says Gloria Lorraine, “or you can come along and keep your mouth shut.”
    â€œLet’s go,” Al says, scrambling up and brushing himself off. “Fast.”
    As we get in, Gloria Lorraine says, “You must have baked some awful cupcakes.”

TEN
    We get in the car. “Put the top up,” says Al.
    â€œNot on your life,” says the movie star in the front seat. “Here, put these on.” She rummages in one of her bags and comes up with a blond wig just like the one she’s wearing, and another scarf. “AmberLea, help him.”
    â€œ What? ” says Al.
    Gloria Lorraine says, “You know, shooting a man is like straightening your stockings. A lady’s not supposed to do it, but sometimes you have to.”
    He puts on the wig and kerchief.
    â€œAnd these.” She tosses him some big sunglasses. The whole thing looks pretty interesting with what’s left of his mustache. Al slouches low in the seat.
    â€œLet’s go,” says Gloria Lorraine.
    That’s when I remember. “I have to call my dad.”
    â€œNot now, Sparky.”
    â€œ Let’s go ,” says Al.
    All at once I realize that I’m in the driver’s seat. Literally. “No,” I say. “I call or we don’t go. Grandpa would want me to call.” I don’t know if the last part’s true, but it’s worth a shot. I wave my hand to make my point, and the car keys fly away into the Dumpster. Now everyone groans.
    â€œNow what?” says AmberLea. “Maybe we should all just take a cab home.”
    â€œMistah Bones,” says Al, from under the wig and kerchief.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMistah Bones. Put him in there. He finds my keys for me alla the time. Watch.”
    Al scoops up the Chihuahua, gets out of the car and hoists the dog to the top of the Dumpster. The dog goes crazy, all four legs pedaling as if he’s on an imaginary bicycle. It probably smells like dog heaven to him. “Keys, Mistah Bones,” croons Al. “Keys for Papa.” Al lets go. The dog dives. There’s a lot of yipping, thumping and scrabbling, then the sound of Mister Bones whining. “Told you,”Al says proudly. “Get him out.”
    â€œCell phone first,” I say to Gloria Lorraine. She hands it to me. I climb up the side of the Dumpster. The smell makes my eyes water. Mister Bones is perched on a green bag, the keys in his mouth. I lift him out. The