Fake I.D.

“You’re full of shit,” I said, but I knew she was telling the truth. There was no other way she could’ve known about the garbage bag unless Rodrigo had told her, and I didn’t see why he would have.

“It’s too bad,” she said. “We could’ve had a good life together.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “I didn’t take that money.”

“Oh really? Then what’s that?”

She was looking toward the kitchen table where the money left over from the robbery—five hundred dollars, in twenties and fifties—was spread out.

“I bet you gambled the rest of it away in Las Vegas,” she said.

She was buttoning up her coat.

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think I’m going? Obviously, you don’t want me here.”

“Hold up a second,” I said. “Come on—stay. I was just so tired from my trip I didn’t know what I was saying before.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“I’m serious,” I said. I opened the buttons of her coat and pulled her toward me. I smelled the Scotch on her breath. “I don’t want you to go—I’m glad you’re here. Why wouldn’t I be glad? You just can’t believe the shit I’ve been through the past couple days. Driving back from the airport I thought I was gonna pass out at the wheel. Come on, stay. I want you here. That’s the real truth.”

I kissed her hard, swirling my tongue around in her one-hundred-proof mouth.

After a while I pulled back and said, “So what do you say?”

“I don’t know. A second ago you sounded like you were really mad at me, like you hated me—”

“Forget about that. I’m telling you, I really didn’t know what the hell I was saying. If you wanna know the truth, I was pretty excited when I heard you and Frank were splitting up. I’m tired of being single, struggling, waking up alone every day. I’m getting to the age where I want to settle down.”

She held onto the edge of the table, trying to keep her balance.

“You know what I think?” she said. “I think you’re just saying all this to shut me up because you’re afraid I’m gonna call the police.”

“No, I’m saying this because I want you to get into bed with me.”

I took off her coat completely and let it fall onto the floor. I started kissing her again.

“Tommy, can I ask you one more thing?”

“Shoot,” I said.

“Before, when you laughed about us getting married, you didn’t really—”

“Of course not,” I said.

“—because I didn’t mean it the way I sounded. I guess I’ve just been drinking and...I mean that’s what I’d like to happen someday, but it doesn’t mean it has to happen right away...I mean we can let it happen naturally and—”

“Forget about it,” I said.

She smiled.

I kissed her some more, then she said, “Do you have anything to drink in this apartment?”

“There’s beer in the fridge,” I said. “Help yourself.”

While she went to get a beer, I went into the bathroom. Standing over the bowl, I felt like the floor was moving and I had to hold on to the shower door to keep my balance. Then I caught another whiff of myself. I smelled so bad I didn’t know how Debbie could stand to be in the same room with me.

When I came out of the bathroom, Debbie had pulled open the couch. She was lying on her back naked. I turned out the light. It wasn’t totally dark outside yet so I could still see the outline of her body. I didn’t know how I was going to go through with this. I got into bed and climbed on top of her. I was holding her down with my arms, taking it nice and slow at first, then speeding up. She started to moan and then I decided to just get it over with. I picked up a pillow and pressed it down over her face. She fought back awhile, kicking and swinging her arms like a maniac, but I kept pushing down. Finally, she stopped squirming.

I turned on the light and lifted the pillow slowly. Her mouth was halfway open and her glassy brown eyes were looking at the ceiling.

I got out of bed quickly. I started pacing my apartment, deciding what to do next. I knew I had to figure out a way to get rid of her body. It was probably stupid to put that pillow over her face without thinking it through first, but what choice did I have?

Sitting down again, I started to doze off next to her and I knew this was a bad idea. I couldn’t go to sleep now—what if Debbie was wrong and that detective had followed her to my apartment? He could be outside right now, waiting for her to leave.

I stood up out of bed and went to the kitchen sink and splashed my face with ice-cold water. Then I leaned out the window, looking for the detective. But I just saw a couple of people, on their way home from work, and a black guy across the street, looking in garbage cans.

I had to come up with a plan. I was shooting blanks, then, thinking harder, I decided that I had to get the body into my car somehow and dump it someplace outside of Manhattan. But there was no way I could do that now, with so many people around. I’d have to wait until the middle of the night—midnight at least. In the meantime, I’d just have to hope that detective wasn’t watching me.

It was twenty past five. I decided to go into work tonight after all. I had to act like it was a normal night. If the cops came around asking questions I’d have to be able to explain where I was all night. Besides, I knew that if I went to sleep now there was no way I was getting up in a few hours.

I took a shower. It felt good, getting clean again, but I was afraid I was going to pass out and I held onto the soap rack the whole time.

It seemed like a bad idea to leave the body just lying there, so I covered it with a blanket and then I piled up the couch cushions on top.

I finished getting ready for work, putting on my usual jeans, black crew-neck, and motorcycle boots, but I missed my gold barbell chain. I realized I was starving and then I saw the two containers of hot-and-sour soup that Debbie had brought over for me. I drank the lukewarm soup straight from the containers, then I put on my leather coat and left the apartment.

Outside my building, I looked around, but there didn’t seem to be anybody watching me. There were still some flurries coming down, but the snow was pretty much gone from the sidewalks. It was getting cold again—the wind whipping down First Avenue like a motherfucker—and I missed the eighty or whatever the hell degrees it was in Las Vegas.

I was glad it was a Wednesday night and the weather was bad because the last thing I felt like doing tonight was checking a lot of IDs. Gary was supposed to work tonight, but Gil was behind the bar, so I figured Gary was still pissed off at Frank or maybe he had quit for good.

“Hey,” I said to Gil.

“How’s it going, Tommy?”

Gil didn’t look up from his book when he was talking to me. There were about ten people in the bar and a reggae CD was playing on the stereo.

“Frank around?” I asked.

“He went out for a second. He’ll be right back.”

I went to hang up my coat. Kathy came by with a tray of mozzarella sticks.

“Hey, how’s it going, Kath?”

“Fine,” she said, walking past me.

I was still hungry, but I didn’t feel like dealing with Rodrigo in the kitchen. I figured I’d just order a pizza or something later on. When I came back out front, Frank was just coming into the bar.

“What’s this?” he said. “You growing a beard?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Like it?”

“It’s okay.” He looked at me closer. “You feeling okay?”

“I just didn’t get too much sleep last night.”

“It’s gonna be a slow night. If you want, you can go home. Gil’s gonna take off soon, but Kathy can cover the