Fake I.D.

“What do you see yourself doing someday?” she asked. “I mean if you can’t be an actor.”

“But I am an actor.”

“You know what I mean—if acting as a career doesn’t work out for you. What else would you want to do?”

I wasn’t in the mood for this—especially after Gary gave me the needles this afternoon. It was hard enough getting turned down for part after part by producers and directors—I didn’t need other people shooting me down. But I didn’t want to get mad at Janene either. Things were going too good tonight and I wanted to keep it that way.

“It sounds like you have a problem with dating a bouncer,” I said.

“No, that’s not it at all. I’m just curious. I’m not trying to put pressure on you or anything. I’m sorry, I guess I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I just don’t like to think about the possibility of not making it, that’s all. The power of positive thinking, you know? But, all right, if we’re talking ‘what if,’ I’ve always been pretty good with numbers. I figure if my acting career fell apart I could always get a job down on Wall Street, join one of those stockbroker training programs I always see ads for in the paper.”

“I think you’d make a great stockbroker.”

“Or maybe I’d do something else—go into sales or management. Or—who knows—maybe I’ll own race horses.”

“Race horses?”

“You know what I mean—there’re a lot of things I can do. Don’t worry, I won’t be a bouncer forever.”

Janene had started running her fingers through my hair.

“What’s that?” she asked, squinting, looking at my scalp.

“Just my scar,” I said.

“How’d you get it?”

“Fell off a bike when I was a kid.”

“It must’ve been a bad fall.”

“Nah, I just needed a few stitches to sew it up. It was no big deal.”

I always told “the bike accident story” whenever a girl or a barber asked about my scar. It was better than telling the real story of how I was hurt and explaining how, when I was seven years old, I’d had to have a chunk of my skull removed and replaced with a metal plate.

But I liked Janene a lot and I planned to tell her the truth about the scar and everything else about me eventually.

We made love again slowly, talking and laughing the whole time. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I felt around Janene, like I’d known her for years.

Then, lying next to each other again, she rested her head on my sweaty chest and said, “I have to tell you something important.”

“What is it?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Well?”

“Never mind,” she finally said. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“I thought you said it’s important.”

“It is, but it can wait.”

“Is it something I should be worried about?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Forget it...really.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“It doesn’t matter—not yet anyway. I promise I’ll tell you—soon.”

“Why not now?”

“Please, Tommy.”

“Whatever,” I said, figuring if I had my secrets, she could have hers.

I kissed her gently on the lips, then I went to go pee.

Four

Sometimes when I woke up in the morning and saw a girl’s face in my bed I panicked, wishing I’d talked her into going home the night before, but when I saw Janene sleeping next to me I felt like the luckiest guy in New York. Even without a stitch of makeup she was a knockout and I was glad just to be close to her. Maybe this was exactly what I needed in my life—stability, a nice, steady relationship.

I decided to wake her up in a special way. She was surprised at first, wiggling her legs, but then she relaxed and enjoyed herself. Afterwards, looking up at her, I said, “Sleep tight?”

“That was wonderful,” she said, her face still red, trying to catch her breath.

She tried to take her turn, but I pulled her back up and said, “Nah, that’s all right—that was a present for you. Actually, I was gonna ask you if you wanted some breakfast in bed. Want me to go out and get some bagels and coffee?”

“What time is it?”

I looked at the clock on the dresser.

“Five to seven.”

“Shit—I have to be at work by a quarter to nine.”

“Call in sick today.”

“I wish I could, but my company’s in the middle of this important audit—my boss would kill me. Do you have a T-shirt or something I could put on?”

“Sure,” I said. I went to the dresser and took out a Fruit of the Loom V-neck. She put on the T-shirt, pulling the covers up to hide her body, then she stood up out of bed. She was a big girl, but on her my T-shirt looked like a nightgown.

She went into the bathroom, taking her clothes with her. When I heard her put the toilet seat down I got up quickly and took my wallet out of the pocket of the jeans I was wearing last night and hid it in my dresser drawer under my socks. A few minutes later, Janene came out of the bathroom, fully dressed except for her shoes. I was back in bed in my underwear.

“I had a great time last night,” she said.

“Me too.”

“I wish I could spend the whole day with you.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that,” I said. I stood up and kissed her. “Can I walk you home?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” I said. “The more time I get to spend with you the better.”

I started getting dressed.

“So what are you gonna do today?” she asked.

“First, I have some shit to take care of around the building, then I have an audition to go to.”

“An audition? You didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s no big deal. It’s to be in a dog food commercial.”

“That sounds great.”

“There’s a lot of competition, but I think I have a good shot of getting it.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Do you have some money to lend me?”

I couldn’t believe I said it like that—not even building up to it.

She looked at me for a second or two—it seemed longer—then said, “Sure...I guess so.”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” I said. “I think I lost my wallet yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah, yesterday afternoon. I was doing some laundry and when I came back from the laundromat my wallet was gone. I looked all over my apartment for it, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.”