Free Hard Case Crime: Fake I.D. by Jason Starr Page B

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