Fake I.D. hcc-56

by Jason Starr

  I stood there for a few seconds thinking, then I walked out. I kicked the side of my car as hard as I could, adding a new dent. I thought about hanging out until the kid went home, then going back into the store to talk to the old man again, but what good would that do? It wouldn’t get me Janene’s jewelry back.

  I still had over an hour before I had to be at work so I went downtown to the OTB Teletheater on Water Street.

  The Aqueduct card was over so they were showing races from Hollywood Park. It had to be an omen—the place I was going to wind up someday as a horse owner was on the TV screen. I bought a program. There was a horse going off at three to one, and it looked unbeatable. This was it, the spot I’d been waiting for. I bet the whole three grand, figuring when it won I’d get back twelve.

  The race went off and I thought I must’ve bet on the wrong horse. The horse I bet on always went to the lead, but this pig was dead last. Then the announcer said that the jockey had pulled my horse up on the backstretch.

  I couldn’t believe it—I was broke again. The money didn’t even have a chance to get warm in my wallet.

  When I got to work I was still numb. I had no idea what I’d say when Janene came asking about her jewelry.

  I poured a Sam Adams and sat at the bar. Jerry, one of the old cronies who came to O’Reilley’s every afternoon, was sitting next to me. He reeked of alcohol so I knew he was lit.

  “Hey, Tommy,” he slurred, just noticing me next to him, even though I’d been sitting there a couple of minutes already. “How’s it goin’?”

  The last thing I was in the mood for was to get into a conversation with some old drunk. I just nodded, staring straight ahead.

  “I’m doin’ all right,” he said. “Seen better days, but who hasn’t? I guess that’s what getting older’s all about. But I can’t complain. I’m not dead—that’s one good thing.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was still thinking about that race at Hollywood Park and how I had screwed everything up. Then Jerry said “So did you buy your box yet for the Super Bowl pool?” and I said to myself: the Super Bowl pool. Of course, the Super Bowl pool.

  Seven

  Every year O’Reilley’s had a Super Bowl pool. It was the same type of pool that just about every other bar in the city had. There were two columns of numbers, 0-9—one column for the AFC team, one column for the NFC team. For X number of dollars you got a box with two numbers that had to match the last digits of the score at the end of a quarter or, for the big prize, the end of the game. At O’Reilley’s, boxes went for five hundred bucks apiece so the total prize money would be fifty thousand dollars. The Super Bowl was still over a month away, but at least half the boxes were already full. Frank was putting the money in the bank as it came in, but a bunch of guys bought boxes last week and the money was in the safe—and the safe was right behind the bar.

  As Jerry went on, talking about whatever, I was thinking about a robbery. Getting in would be easy, the only question was when I would do it. From watching Frank over the years I already knew the combination by heart. It was a good thing I always noticed things like that. I’d only seen Janene punch the code of her ATM card into the machine that one time and I still had the digits memorized.

  The best time to do it would be late at night, just before closing time. It would be the only time I could do it because there were always people around the bar at other times and I didn’t have a key to the bar to come and go in the middle of the night. When I had the chance, I’d have to move fast. I couldn’t put it off much longer either. I saw Frank going into the safe a few nights ago and saw those stacks of bills, but it was only a matter of time until he moved the cash to the bank, if he hadn’t done it already.

  The only thing that bothered me about my plan was that I’d be stealing from Frank. I knew he wouldn’t suspect me—he liked me too much to think I’d ever do something like that to him. Chances were, he’d blame Debbie or Gary—probably Debbie. But he was the only person in the world who’d always been there for me when I needed him and I really didn’t want to screw him over like that.

  I went to the pay phone in the back of the bar and called home for my messages. There was one message:

  “Hello, this is a message for Tommy Russo—Tommy, there was a very long beep on your machine so I hope you get this. This is Alan Schwartz, returning your call. So I hear you want to get involved in our little syndicate? Terrific. I don’t know how much Pete told you, but if you leave your address with my secretary I’ll FedEx you a copy of the contract we worked out. If you have any questions I’d be delighted to answer them. Unfortunately, I’ll be out of the office most of the day today. Maybe we could all get together early next week sometime and discuss a strategy, etcetera, okay? Oh, and you can give us your check then too. Okay? So let’s talk for sure next week and I hope you have a good weekend. Goodbye, Tommy.”

  I hung up without saving the message. By eight o’clock there was already a nice-sized Friday night crowd in the bar and I was standing at the door proofing. I was in a good mood—laughing, joking around with everybody. I was even nice to Gary. When he showed up I said, “Hey, what’s going on?” when I usually didn’t say jack shit to him. He noticed the change in me and said, “You sure you’re feeling all right tonight?”

  “Never felt better in my life, buddy,” I said.

  After a while the crowd started to thin out and then Susan Lepidus showed up at the bar. She used to hang out at O’Reilley’s a lot, then, about a year ago, we went out one night to a club on the West Side. I hadn’t seen her in at least six months. She had curly red hair that went halfway down her back and she had a small, pretty face. She was with a short, dark-haired guy I’d never seen before.

  “Hi, Tommy,” she said, giving me a big warm smile.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while, huh?” I said.

  “Maybe I’ve been hiding from you,” she said.

  “Well, I found you,” I said.

  We both laughed. Her boyfriend, watching us, didn’t crack a smile.

  “Tommy, I’d like you to meet Jim. Jim, this is Tommy.”

  I shook Jim’s hand. He had a strong grip, the typical little guy trying to act tough.

  I looked back at Susan and I thought I caught her staring at me.

  “Anyway, we better get inside, it’s freezing out here,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Susan and Jim went into the bar. Then, about a minute or two later, I was checking a few more IDs when I felt somebody touching my arm. I turned around and Susan was standing there.

  “So how are you?” she said.

  “Pretty good,” I said. “So you don’t come around here too much any more, huh?”

  “I haven’t been going out as much as I used to,” she said. “I guess I’m getting boring in my old age.”

  “You don’t look so boring to me.” I said.

  We both smiled. Her lips, coated with bright red lipstick, looked good.

  “I better go,” she said. “My friend’s gonna be back from the bathroom in a second. But, you know, we should really go out again sometime. Why don’t you give me a call?”

  “I will,” I said.

  I watched Susan walk back to the bar. When Jim was facing the other way, ordering drinks, Susan looked back at me and smiled and waved.

  When I first started working at O’Reilley’s, I used to give Susan and her friends free drinks and Jello shots whenever I was bartending. I liked Susan a lot, but after that one date I’d never called her again. I guess it was the story of my life—when I had a good thing going I always found a way to screw it up.

  But now I had a second chance. I wouldn’t even have to ask her for her phone number because I still had it memorized.

  Susan and Jim left around eleven—Susan touched my arm and kissed me on the cheek again on her way out—and the next time I looked at my watch it was after midnight. But there was still a pretty big crowd at the door and a lot o
f ID checking to do. Tonight would be a late night—last call wouldn’t be until two-thirty. I was planning to make my move for the safe at around three, when the place was empty. I was usually alone in the bar for a little while after Gary went home and I was stacking chairs and stools.

  “Tommy.”

  Her voice jolted me. The last person I wanted to see tonight was Janene. I was hoping she wouldn’t discover her jewelry missing for a few days—that I’d have time to think up an excuse. She was standing at the front of the line of people waiting to get into the bar.

  “Hey, how’s it goin’?” I said, trying to act like I was happy to see her and nothing was wrong.

  “I need to talk to you right away,” she said.

  She didn’t dress up tonight. She was wearing sweatpants, a down winter coat, red earmuffs, and no makeup. Her eyes were blue again.

  “All right,” I said, “but it’s gonna have to wait a few minutes. As you can see I’m checking IDs here.”

  “Did you steal my jewelry?”

  “What?” I said, like I had no idea what she was talking about.

  People on line were staring at us.

  “It was a simple question. If you have my jewelry just give it back to me now and I won’t call the police.”

  I laughed, shaking my head.

  “Just relax, okay? Let me get these people into the bar, then I’ll be right with you.”

  I checked IDs while Janene stood next to me, her arms crossed in front of her chest. I was glad to have the break—it gave me time to think about what I was going to say.

  When the last person went into the bar, Janene said, “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Can I have my jewelry back please?”

  “First of all, please don’t ever come here while I’m working and pull a scene like this again. It’s bad for business and I’ll lose my job.”

  “Some job,” she said, rolling her eyes. I had never hit a woman before in my life, but I wanted to hit Janene, slap her right across the face. I might’ve done it too, but we were on the street and people were watching.

  “Second of all,” I said, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Jewelry? What jewelry?”

  “You know what jewelry.”

  “Is this because I took off last night? Because if it is, I think you got the wrong idea.”

  “Look, I’m not an idiot, okay? I just want my jewelry back.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about and if you won’t tell me I guess I’ll never know.”

  I stared at her for a few seconds without blinking.

  My acting experience was paying off. I was staying cool and relaxed and I could tell she was starting to believe me.

  A couple of guys came up to the door. They looked over twenty-one so I just waved them in.

  Janene said, “A necklace and my diamond studs are missing from my jewelry box.”

  So she didn’t know about the bracelet. I’d have to remember not to say anything about that.

  “So let me get this straight,” I said. “You think I robbed you last night?”

  “Did you?”

  “Jesus Christ, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

  “Then where’s my jewelry?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  She took a deep breath, then said, “All I know is I woke up in the middle of the night and you were gone. Then I came home from work today and noticed the stuff missing.”

  “So what makes you think I took it? Maybe somebody broke into your apartment this afternoon. Or maybe you were robbed a few days ago or a few months ago.”

  “I just wore those earrings last week.”

  “So somebody could’ve robbed you any day last week or this week. Why do you think I did it?”

  This got her thinking. She looked at me closely, trying to see if I’d crack. I didn’t.

  She said, “If you were me, what would you think?”

  “I’d think maybe it was an inside job. I knew a girl who lived in one of those elevator buildings and people were getting robbed all the time. D’you keep a key with your super?”

  “Yeah, but he’s a nice guy. He’d never rob me.”

  “And what, I’m not a nice a guy? Look, call the cops, do what you want. I don’t have to take this.”

  I got up off my stool and started into the bar.

  “Tommy.”

  I turned around slowly. I felt like I was in a play or a movie.

  Janene said, “I’m sorry, all right? I just didn’t know what to think. I mean after...why did you leave anyway? How could you do something like that to me?”

  She was starting to cry. I stared at her for a few seconds, then said, “You didn’t tell me about your husband. It didn’t bother me at first, but then I thought about it some more and it did. I was very hurt.”

  “You were hurt?”

  “Yeah. I felt like I wasn’t important to you, like you were just rebounding with me, using me to get over your marriage.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it?”

  She stared at me. Obviously, I’d hit home.

  “See?” I said. “It wasn’t gonna work out anyway with us so what difference does it make?”

  I started to walk away again when she said, “Tommy.”

  I stopped without turning around.

  She said, “I’m sorry for everything.”

  “Forget about it,” I said, walking into the bar. “It’s too late.”

  The lights flashed for last call. There were a bunch of drunk guys, drinking pitchers of Bud, and I sped them along, telling them they had five minutes to finish their beer.

  Gary was still behind the bar, cleaning up. Sometimes he was the last one to leave and I couldn’t let that happen tonight.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’ll clean up for you.”

  He looked at me like he was surprised that I was talking to him.

  “What did you do,” he said, “take some happy pills before you came to work tonight?”

  “Nah,” I said, “I’m just in a good mood. Something wrong with that?”

  “No, that’s cool. I wanted to head downtown to hear this band play tonight anyway.”

  “Have fun.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Forget about it,” I said.

  “That’s really cool of you, man. I owe you one.”

  Gary finished what he was doing, then he went to the back to get his coat. Now all I had to do was clear out all the customers and I could get to work.

  “All right,” I said to the guys drinking pitchers, “it’s time to call it a night.”

  “But we just got this pitcher,” one of the guys said.

  “Sorry, we’re closing up right now,” I said.

  The guys chugged their beer then put on their coats and left.

  A few minutes later, Gary said “See ya” and he left too. I went and locked the door behind him. Kathy and the busboys had gone home already, but Frank was still somewhere in the bar, probably working on the books in his back office. There were also still some guys in the kitchen. But at least the whole front of the bar was empty and I didn’t know if I’d have a chance like this again.

  I went behind the bar and got down on my knees. I knew the combination by heart and I knew it would only take me a few seconds to open the safe.

  I fucked up the combination the first time and I had to do it again. I felt the veins in my forehead pulsing and sweat was dripping down the back of my neck. The safe didn’t open the second time either. Maybe I was screwing up the numbers. Then, on the third try, I heard a click. The door swung open.

  Seeing the money gave me a head rush. I had no idea how much was there, but there were stacks of fifties, twenties, and tens—mostly twenties—wrapped in rubber bands. I grabbed a stack of twenties, but realized I had no place to put it. Fuck, I didn’t think about that. The pockets of my jeans were too tight and there were no bags lying arou
nd. Then I heard a sound—footsteps coming toward the front of the bar. I put the twenties back in the safe and shut the door quietly. The person was in the room now. I crawled to the other end of the bar so I’d be away from the safe and I stood up.

  “Jesus Christ,” Frank said, taking a few steps backwards. He was breathing hard. “You just scared the living shit out of me.”

  “I was just putting some bottles in the fridge,” I said.

  “Well don’t pop up like that. Jesus.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Eh, it’s all right. Actually, I’m glad you’re still here. You want to go get some breakfast with me?”

  “I was just gonna head home,” I said. “I mean after I finish up here.”

  “Where’s Gary?”

  “Went downtown to catch a band.”

  Frank rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’ll finish that up tomorrow when we open. I really wish you’d just come out with me. I’m losing my mind and I need somebody to talk to. Food’s on me.”

  I couldn’t rob the safe tonight anyway—not after Frank saw me crawling around behind the bar—so I told him I’d go. I went to the back to wash up and get my jacket. I couldn’t believe I didn’t have that money. I could still feel the stack of bills in my hand and I could still see Andrew Jackson’s face on the twenties. Some banks were open on Saturdays—maybe Frank was going to make a deposit tomorrow morning. This might’ve been my one shot at getting the money and I blew it.

  We took a cab to the Green Kitchen on the corner of Seventy-seventh and First. Frank once told me how he’d been going there for twenty years and how it was his favorite diner in New York. As usual on a weekend night, the place was packed with the drunken spillover from the nearby bars. There were mostly preppy college kids, assholes who couldn’t handle their liquor, carrying on, trying to pick up the tired, haggard waitresses. Frank and I sat at a table for two on the side, next to the windows. Frank ordered a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie. I was famished, and since the meal was on Frank anyway, I decided to pig out. I ordered pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage, bacon, and a side order of French toast.