Vivien took a sip of coffee. “I know what you mean.”
“How do you handle the cash with the girls? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Vivien stared at Lucy, as if no one had ever been that bold to come out and ask her such a question. “How much money are you talking about?”
“Ten thousand. On my salary, I can’t drop that much cash in my account.”
Vivien pulled out a receipt pad from her pocket, then explained her process. She’d had twelve real customers yesterday, for a total of six hundred dollars in revenue. She wrote out ten additional fake receipts for haircuts and products. Then added one thousand in cash to her daily deposit.
“I do that every day, and at the end of the week, I take a salary of five grand. I pay the taxes, and the money is clean for me to do whatever I want. That, my dear, is how people launder money.”
“Can you help me?”
“Give me the ten grand, and over a month, I’ll take my fee, pay the tax, and give you a bonus of about seven thousand.”
“So, for every ten thousand I give you, I’ll get back seven thousand in clean money, right?” Lucy said with some enthusiasm.
“That’s about right,” Vivien said. “But it sounds like you have more than ten grand.”
Lucy couldn’t believe she’d made such a stupid blunder. “Maybe,” she said, but Vivien smiled to indicate she wasn’t a fool.
“I have a better idea,” Vivien said. She told Lucy to give her fifteen thousand cash, and she would sell Lucy the salon. Lucy could make a good living from the salon and, over time, wash all the money she had.
Lucy was surprised Vivien would consider selling, and at a price she could handle. This could be just the opportunity she needed to make use of the cash from the bank robbery.
Vivien made it clear she was only selling the salon and hair products. The night-caller business wouldn’t be involved. She’d keep the working girls for herself. Lucy and Wanda would be entitled to free housing, something that came with the sale of the salon. The deal got sweeter the more Vivien talked. Lucy would wash the night-caller money for Vivien through the salon. No fee charged and a check going back to Vivien as a supposed monthly installment for the purchase that could last for years. It was a win-win for both.
The purchase of the salon would turn the bank’s stolen cash into clean, usable money. Lucy could buy a car and even a house. It would be life-changing money that would otherwise have taken her many years of working to save.
“Let’s do it,” an invigorated Lucy said, shaking hands with Vivien.
Later that day, Vivien confirmed one more time Lucy’s interest in the salon. Lucy assured Vivien she was ready to take over the business. A one-page document was prepared, and they walked to a nearby notary and signed the agreement. When they returned, Lucy handed over fifteen thousand in cash to Vivien.
Lucy was now the owner of the Bluff Salon. They agreed that when the timing was right they would tell the employees, and that included Wanda. But first, Lucy needed to plan a funeral.
The next morning she met with Annabel. They discussed her father’s life, and Annabel came up with the perfect send-off: a New Orleans jazz funeral.
Edgar Rawlings’s body was sent to a crematory with Annabel’s specific instructions on how to return his ashes. Lucy did her part in gathering the send-off items Annabel recommended. Within a day, the funeral was set. Lucy filled Wanda in on the details. As much as Wanda had grown to hate the man, she agreed to go to his funeral, but made it clear that she was attending only out of respect for Lucy.
The morning of the funeral, the salon closed. The ladies lined up on Royal Street in their Sunday-best clothes. A black horse and carriage arrived, carrying a small black box along with some items Annabel had requested. A brass band followed, with men wearing matching black suits. Then came Lucy and Wanda, followed by Vivien and the salon ladies. They made up what was called the “first line.” If everything went as planned, locals and tourists would decide to accompany the group, making what was called the “second line.”
The procession started. The band played their traditional funeral march, and in a group, they strolled up Royal Street. People stopped what they were doing and stood curbside out of respect as the procession passed. The carriage made a right turn at Iberville Street, while the band continued to play. Another right turn at Bourbon Street was Lucy’s cue. She took the black box off the carriage, opened the lid, and unraveled a ribbon on top. Holding the bag close to the edge of the curb, she scattered Edgar Rawlings’s ashes in the street.
Lucy smiled, then shouted, “What else would be more fitting than for him to rest in peace among the drunks of Bourbon Street?”
The brass band started a livelier tune, and the second line formed by locals and tourists joined the procession. The funeral turned into a party, and Lucy passed out white handkerchiefs with Edgar’s face and “rest in peace” printed at the bottom. As the band got louder, the second line grew larger, and people danced in the street, waving the white handkerchiefs.
Lucy had one more send-off for her father. Lining the back of the carriage were pint-sized bottles of Old Crow. Lucy broke the seal on a bottle, and she, Vivien, and Wanda each took a healthy swig. Then she passed out the pint bottles to people in the crowd until the supply was exhausted.
The carriage, band, and second liners continued marching down Bourbon Street. The band played louder, the drums echoing off the buildings. They eventually made their way back to Royal Street, where the group disbanded at their starting point in front of the salon.
Lucy had given her father
