The Moonlighter

What's the "proper" reaction, when you've moved into your late grandfather's house, and you find a strange bag? What's in the bag you ask? $20,000 and a little black notebook. Who do you call? What do you tell them? These were all the questions I had racing through my mind.

It had been 6 months since grandpa died, and I finally decided to listen to his final wishes and move into his home. I’d spent so many childhood days and nights in this home, so finally living my adult life in here was logically the only option. After all, this was always my second home, so why not just make this my only home?

Just when I thought I’d gotten comfortable and settled into my favorite house on this earth, grandpa throws me a curveball from the grave. Who hides $20,000 and a little black notebook under a floorboard in their bathroom?! THE BATHROOM, of all places?! Go fucking figure old man.

As this mysterious bag of money lie at my feet, I wondered…. What was my grandpa into that led him to having this type of secret? What kind of life had he lived that we had no knowledge of? My grandpa had always been private to an extent, but I was his only granddaughter, he never lied to me or kept secrets. So why didn’t I know about this?

“Mom, can you come over sometime this week? I wanna talk to you, but not over the phone, please. Yes, Friday is perfect, I’ll cook dinner,” I said into the phone still staring at this bag at my feet. “Yes, yes mom. Okay, yes ma’am. I love you too mommy, I’ll see you Friday for dinner. Okay, goodnight.”

Mom was the only person besides Uncle Anthony that may have answers into what the actual hell my grandpa could’ve been doing. They were his only 2 children and he made it a point to tell them everything about his life. He was just that type of man.

There was only 2 more days to Friday, guess I’d just hide the money back in the bathroom until then. But this notebook on the other hand. Now THAT was a serious mystery to me. I know most guys have their “little black books” of women, but this? Was this grandpa’s? Couldn’t be, considering all the names in this notebook were men. That’s were my real confusion came from.

My mind continues to wonder and race over the next day, questioning just what the hell my grandpa had been up to in his wild years. Grandpa had always been a character, and there was truly no telling the real life he led after grandma left him in the 80s. I knew he did some crazy shit, but what was my mother going to tell me at dinner tomorrow?

Here we are, the day that mom is coming for dinner. Maybe, I’ll finally be able to get some answers and stop having to rack my brain about these things. As I stroll around my house cooking dinner, and preparing for dinner with my mother, my curiosity continues to get the best of me. So due to my brain not shutting up, I finally decide to start looking up some of these names.

To my unfortunate demise, there was no trace of these names anywhere in the world it seemed. This was continuing to make absolutely NO sense to me. Why can’t I find these people anywhere? Who are these mystery people? How are they connected to my grandpa? Thank goodness my mom is on her way for dinner.

“Hello baby girl,” mom says as she walks in the house, “sure smells good in here.” She had made her way into the kitchen and was opening the lids to everything I had sitting around. “What are you doing, making us a thanksgiving feast?” she chuckled to herself as she kissed my cheek.

“Well mommy, its our first dinner here in 6 months. I couldn’t just let it be anything ordinary. I wanted it to be just how grandpa used to have our weekly dinners. I just want things to be somewhat okay again,” I said as we sat down and prepared to pray over our meal and our lives. Mom’s prayers always reminded me of grandpa’s, she even had a touch of grandma’s prayers.

“Now that we’ve finished eating. What is it you were wanting to talk about sweetheart?” she asked as we sat down to enjoy some coffee and dessert.

“Give me a moment, let me run and use the restroom.”

“This is what I wanted to talk about,” I said as I dropped the bag at my mother’s feet.

“Where did you find this?!” she said as her eyes widened with what seemed to be a combination of fear and excitement.

“It was under the bathroom floorboard. What do you know about it? What was grandpa into?”

“Sweetheart, is this the only one that you found?”

“Mom, what is going on?”

“Is this the only one you’ve found?!” she yelled at me.

“Yes. This is the only one,” I said with my mind racing even more.

“Baby,” she sighed as she grabbed my hand, “sit down. I’ll tell you what’s going on. You have the right to know. Especially because now that you’ve found this $20,000 and his notebook, your life is about to change.”

I was feeling a whirlwind of emotions in this very moment. I was terrified yet excited. Anxious, yet calm. I was not sure of how or what to feel, but all I can do right now is just simply allow her to explain.

“Sweetheart, your grandfather was…. Well. I’m not sure how to explain this to you. There’s a lot of money stashed around the house. Each bag containing a notebook of names. After your grandmother left your grandfather in the 80s, he fell into a very, uh… dangerous and risky life.”

“A dangerous life? A lot of money? More notebooks? What the hell are you talking about mom?”

“Yes, he lived that life well into the early 2000s while you were just a child. As you and your brothers got older, he and I both agreed for the safety of all of his grandchildren, he’d put that life behind him. It wasn’t until he got sick and he began rewriting his will, that he told me about all the money. And he asked me what I thought should be done. He and I knew that you had big dreams, and those big dreams were putting you into hard times. So, we agreed that you would get the house and everything in it, including all of the money he has hidden.”

“Mother, what was this dangerous life that grandpa was living. You’ve been talking in absolute circles and not really telling me anything at all. I feel I deserve to have answers. Please mom, just tell me the truth. I need to know what grandpa got into and what dangerous he had gotten into. Where’d this money come from? Who are these people on these different lists?”

*sigh* “My father…. Your grandfather… he was a moonlighter.”

“A moonlighter?” I inquired, completely confused.

“Your grandfather, was a bank robber.”

“WHAT?!”

“Your grandfather,”

“I heard you. I just, I can’t believe it,” I said starting to laugh.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because all the stories grandpa use to tell me about his life on the streets at night…. They were somewhat true, yet they weren’t. He never lied to me; he just spun the stories.”

“Yes, he told you the truth, just with his own spin.”

“And the notebooks?” I asked, still trying to understand and collect the stories for what I needed to know.

“The notebooks contain names of all the people your grandfather could have betrayed but didn’t because he was paid off. A list of the clients that called for his services that were dangerous men and could have killed him. Your grandfather was dangerous. He spent his youth as a boxer and shooting guns with his father in their yard. Life became overwhelming for your grandmother, thinking that he would go out fighting and drinking every night. The idea that she may one day wake up to a knock at the door and it be the police telling her that her husband was found dead. It was terrifying, and only got worse the older he got because he became more reckless.”

“So, grandpa wasn’t just a mechanic?”

“No, he wasn’t just a simple mechanic. Your grandfather ran multiple lives.”

“Wow. My grandfather…. The moonlighter.”