He had earned three hundred dollars for the day, better than usual. Once he deducted his gas money, food expenses, and coffee tab, he had just over two hundred dollars left in his pocket. Aishe would be pleased, though he doubted she’d show it. His beautiful wife still had too much of the old country in her blood. While Peter had lived in the United States since he was twelve, Aishe had arrived only two years earlier, her marriage to him arranged by their parents a decade earlier. They were Gitanos: Roma people. Gypsies. Peter’s family lived in Spain, Aishe’s in France. Peter had been thrilled to learn Aishe would be his bride, but marriage had proven difficult. Money preoccupied his wife, who made as much telling fortunes part-time as he did driving his cab full-time. They constantly bickered about financial matters. Aishe refused to take an American name, as he had, and insisted on calling him Pitti rather than Peter. She hated New York City and wanted to own a house in what she called “the real suburbs.”
