Fake I.D.

her.

“I’m very glad you’re here,” Debbie said. Her words were slurred slightly, but she wasn’t smashed. “But, to be honest, I’m a little upset that you didn’t let me know first. I would’ve gotten myself together for you—you know, put on some leather.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “You look great just the way you are.”

Debbie put her hand on my leg and smiled. She really was disgusting.

“All full of compliments,” she said. “Well, thank you very much. But why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

“My memory gets a little fuzzy when I drink, but if I recall the last time we were together you were trying to break my arm.”

“Sorry about that.”

“That’s all right—I’m sure I’ll figure out a way for you to make up for it.” She was rubbing my leg now. “So what made you change your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. Obviously you were never very interested in me before.”

“I was just passing by so I decided to come up. But maybe you want me to go home.”

“No, of course I don’t want you to go. I just meant did you come here for a good time or because you find me irresistibly sexy?”

“I really don’t know why I came here,” I said.

“Well, at least you’re honest,” she said. “That’s an unusual quality for a man.” She moved her hand over my crotch, then said, “I could use something to drink. Can I get you something?”

“That’s okay.”

“Really? In that case I’ll skip my drink too. I don’t want to be on a different plane than you.”

She was still rubbing my crotch.

I said, “So Frank’s not around, right?”

“No, he’s at the bar. We have the apartment all to ourselves for at least a few hours.”

“Maybe it was a bad idea to come here—”

She grabbed my arm—holding it tightly. Then in a deeper, sexier voice she said, “What do you like?”

“Like?”

“I mean maybe you have a favorite fetish? Do you like to be spanked? Do you want mommy to tell you that you’ve been a very bad boy. What do you like?”

“I don’t have any fetishes.”

“Everybody has some fetish, a fantasy they’ve never experienced before. Something they’ve always wanted to do, but never tried. Maybe you like it rough.”

She pinned me against the side of the couch and started kissing me. I felt her hard implants rubbing against my chest.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? This is what you like.”

I was looking into her dark brown eyes. She was kissing me, biting hard on my tongue. I tasted a mix of alcohol and blood. Her hands were under my shirt, her long fingernails scratching my chest.

“Come on, tell mommy you like it. Tell mommy you want it.”

She continued to bite and claw me and I didn’t stop her. Finally, she pulled me into the bedroom. I saw the wedding picture on the dresser. Frank was right—Debbie did look a lot better back then. I tried not to look at the picture again. I hated myself for being there behind Frank’s back, and I hated Debbie for putting the idea into my head in the first place.

She pushed me down onto the bed and climbed on top of me with her drunk old lady’s body—sucking hard on my neck with her teeth. I pushed her away—afraid she’d give me a hickey—but she pushed me back down hard and continued to have her way with me. She was strong for a woman—or maybe I just wasn’t fighting back. She was holding down my arms, biting my nipples.

“You like it like this, don’t you? Don’t you?”

She unzipped my pants and tossed away her robe. I wondered how I ever could have thought she was sexy. Her thin, bony body disgusted me. I was looking up at her lumpy, sagging implants and her wrinkled face.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut everything out, but it didn’t help. I saw myself tumbling down a steep flight of stairs. I felt like my head was going to explode.

I stood out of bed and started getting dressed.

“What’s the matter?”

I didn’t answer.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“You better not tell anybody I was here,” I said, facing the door. “I’m serious—you better not tell Frank.”

“Tell Frank what? We didn’t do anything. Hardly anything.”

“Just keep your drunken mouth shut.”

“Why?” she said, like she thought it was funny. “Don’t you trust me?”

I slammed the bedroom door and left the apartment as fast as possible.

I woke up with a splitting headache. It was dark in my apartment and I looked over at the digital clock and saw it was a few minutes past five. It was strange because I felt like I’d only been asleep for a few minutes, but a couple of hours had gone by. I really wasn’t in the mood to see Frank tonight. I wanted to call in sick but, remembering about the robbery, I knew it wouldn’t look good if I suddenly stopped showing up for work. Besides, I had to pay off Rodrigo. So I took a shower and came out feeling okay, but not great. On the way to work, I bought a large iced coffee at a deli and gulped it down. Then I went to a pizza place and had a couple of pepperoni slices and a calzone and I felt a lot better.

I was glad it was Monday and that it would be slow at O’Reilley’s. I probably wouldn’t even have to work the door tonight. It was Gil’s night off bartending so I’d either help Gary out at the bar or just hang out, drinking beer and watching TV.

When I walked into the bar Gary started yelling at me. He had a big bandage on his forehead and under one of his eyes he had a purple shiner. At first, I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. I was just watching this crazy guy screaming at me. There were only a few other people in the bar—holdovers from the day crowd. They were looking at Gary pretty much the same way I was.

“...so what are you gonna do, just stand there looking stupid?” he said. “Let’s go outside and settle this like men. What’s the matter, you’re chickenshit? You can steal money from a safe but you can’t fight me? Come on, I’m serious. I wanna kick your ass.”

“Just go back to work,” I said. “Stop making a dick out of yourself.”

“You have two choices,” Gary said. “Either you go outside and fight me like a man or you get the hell out of here.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” I said.

“You don’t want to hurt me, huh? Well, surprise, I’m already hurt. One of the guys whose money you stole from the football pool was somehow under the impression that I did it and he and a couple of his friends were waiting outside my apartment this morning. I’m not taking any more punches from anybody else. If you want to hurt me, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Frank had come from the back of the bar.

“Tommy and I are getting ready to fight this thing out, that’s what’s going on.”

“Hey, come on, let’s just cool it,” Frank said. “Both of you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Ha!” Gary said. “Why don’t you go check his apartment? I bet you’ll find fourteen thousand dollars there.”

I smiled like I was innocent and Gary was crazy. I had my arms crossed in front of my chest.

“I’m not gonna have fighting in my bar,” Frank said. “Now just get back to work and try to act like sensible human beings.”