Trapped – A Bad Beginning By: Patrick O’Connor This is a story about another disaster in the life of Michael Mulroney. It picks up back in Detroit in 1960. After a year and a half at the University of Idaho, where the main story line was the affair with Geraldine, he is home again. He and Geraldine had carried on a torrid sexual affair all during the spring of ’59 and had continued it when he had gone back to school in the fall. But, when she tried to clamp down on his life, he felt he had to run. He gave up his scholarship with the Navy and dropped out of school. He was now working for Bob Fox at the Fox Insurance Agency successfully selling life insurance.
If you want to know where to find the best deal on virtually anything, if you need a coupon for the biggest discount, or you’re looking for a sale on prime rib you just have to call Nancy. You’ve heard the expression “She’s so tight she squeaks when she walks!” Well that would be Nancy, but only when it refes to her interactions with any brand of tradesman. With her friends she has always been generous to a fault. She never shows up without bringing some contribution to the party. And you can always count on her help in any way possible.
In 1958 Catholic Central High School was located on the west side of Detroit on Outer Drive, just east of Greenfield Road. Most of the students at this all boys, Catholic preparatory school, run by the Basilian priest and brothers, lived a relatively long way from the school. Those that were from the wealthier families had their own cars, some rode the bus, and others would hitchhike home after school. I was one of those that would hitchhike most days.
Being an American ex-patriot with a relatively exotic business in the pop fashion scene in Frankfurt, I was acquainted with a variety of interesting people on the shady edge of the social fabric. One of these acquaintances was a Nigerian named Alex who I would often see with his tall, blond, beautiful German girl-friend in the local bistros and clubs. When I would see him on the street, he was impossible to miss because he was invariably driving some outrageously extravagant car. One day you would see him in a Rolls-Royce, and the next time it would be a Lamborghini, always accompanied by the foxy blond.