On her way back to her hotel, she was tempted to stop for a drink at a trendy-, fun-looking pub, but figured she’d be better off getting a good night’s sleep and a fresh start tomorrow.
A friendly older man was working at the hotel’s front desk. When he gave Kathy the key to her room, he asked her how she was enjoying her stay in Dublin. Kathy told him she liked the city and then told him about the incident with the stolen laptop. When she got to the part about how awful she’d felt and how she’d offered to give Patrick money, the man at the desk said, “Jaysus, you didn’t give him the money, did you?”
“Yeah,” Kathy said. “Actually, I did.”
“I was afraid of that. You fell for a scam, I’m afraid.”
“A scam?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Was there another man there, besides the one who lost the laptop?”
“What do you mean?”
“They work in a team of three. One has the laptop, one steals it, and one comes over to help. Is that what happened?”
Remembering the guy in the suit who’d offered to call the police, Kathy said, “Yeah, there were three guys, I guess. But I really think you have it all wrong. This guy’s laptop really was stolen.”
Kathy went on, explaining what had happened, but the man at the desk cut her off and said, “I’m telling you, love, it’s happened before and we were even talking about warning our guests about it.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Kathy said, recognizing the anger and frustration in her voice because she was starting to realize what had happened but didn’t want to admit it to herself yet. “This guy went to the bathroom and someone else-a stranger-came running down the block and-”
“It wasn’t a stranger,” the man at the desk said. “They were working a scam. They must’ve picked you out as a tourist. Were you holding a camera or a map or something that made you stand out as a foreigner?”
Kathy couldn’t believe she’d let this happen to her.
“Yeah, actually, I was.”
“Jaysus, it’s awful this happened to you. You didn’t give him a lot of money, did you?”
“No,” Kathy lied. “Just ten dollars… I mean euros.”
“Well, that’s a blessing,” the man said. “This retired couple from Florida gave them a thousand euros because they felt bad for the guy. I’ll tell you one thing, though-that guy must be a good actor. I mean, to get people to believe him-that takes some talent.”
“Well, good night,” Kathy said, and started away.
“Should I call the Gardaí?”
“No, that’s okay. It was only ten euro.”
“But the Gardaí should really know about this so they can-”
“I really don’t want you to call… but thank you.”
In her room, Kathy tried to forget about the whole thing. There was nothing she could do about it now and she definitely didn’t want to get into a whole thing with the police- answering questions, maybe even having to go to a precinct or wherever. It was better just to forget about it-pretend it hadn’t happened.
She washed up and got into bed. She’d bought a few thick paperbacks to read during the trip, but she wasn’t in the mood. She turned on the TV and flipped around, but there was nothing to watch except soccer and news. She was watching the BBC News reports about the latest violence in the Middle East, though she was thinking about Patrick. He’d seemed like such a nice young guy-so charming and helpful-but that should’ve been a warning sign. The whole thing was such an obvious setup, the way the thief had appeared out of nowhere to grab the laptop and then how that guy with the business suit came right over to help, and of course it was he who’d offered to call the police. She was angry at herself for falling for that crap, for being such a victim. In New York, there was no way something like this would have happened to her. In New York, she always had her guard up and was naturally suspicious of everyone. If someone started talking to her at a Starbucks in New York she would’ve said a few words to him and ignored him. And in New York she never would’ve been so vulnerable. She was traveling alone for the first time in a foreign city and she was preoccupied with a lot of personal things. They’d probably zeroed in on her as a perfect victim.
In the glare of the BBC news, Kathy had a long, hard, self-hating cry, and when she finally recovered she missed Jim. Yeah, he’d cheated on her and, yeah, he’d treated her like shit, but he was a good guy and she loved him. She felt safe and protected and secure when they were together. Without him she was lost.
Kathy couldn’t believe she’d sent that e-mail; that had to be the stupidest thing she’d done today-much stupider than falling for the scam.
It was about 5:30, New York time. She tried Jim’s cell and their home number, but there was no answer. She kept trying, off and on, for the next few hours; he either wasn’t home or was screening calls. Then she realized that, since she’d written to Jim on their AOL account, she could “unsend” the message if he hadn’t read it yet.
She went down to the front desk, waited for the man to finish a phone conversation, and then asked him if there was a computer with Internet access she could use.
“I’m afraid the business room is closed,” he said.
“This is an emergency,” she said. “I have to e-mail my fiancé.”
“I’m terribly sorry, but the door is locked and I don’t have the key. The guy who does have the key should be back in about a half hour though.”
“What about your computer?”
“I’m afraid it’s not connected to the Internet.”
“Is there an Internet café close by?”
The man gave her instructions to one that was open twenty-four hours a day.
Kathy raced out of the hotel and, after a couple of wrong turns, found the café, which was still very active. She had to wait a few minutes for a computer to become available. It was past 9 o’clock in New York and Kathy didn’t see how Jim couldn’t be home by now. He always checked his e-mail first thing after he came into the apartment, so it seemed impossible that this would work.
It was a slow connection, but she was finally able to log onto AOL. Kathy opened her “sent mail” file, clicked “unsend” on her message to Jim, and discovered that the message hadn’t been read yet.
“Thank God,” she said aloud as she unsent it.
Later, back in her hotel room, she called Jim and he picked up on the first ring. He explained that his cell battery had died and he’d been out wining and dining a client. Kathy sensed that he was lying, that he’d really been out with that bitch from his office again, and that he might’ve even brought her back to the apartment with him. Still, it was a relief to hear his voice, to know that everything would return to normal, and she said, “God, I miss you so much, sweetie. This is the last time I go anywhere without you.”
TAINTED GOODSBY CHARLIE STELLA
Abroad tells you you’re a comfortable fit, what it means, make no mistake about it, boyos, it means you have a small dick, she’s trying not to hurt your feelings,” Jack Dugan said.
Dugan was a tall gangly man of fifty-two years. He had a thinning hairline, a long uneven nose, and dark deep-set eyes. He was dressed in a black polo shirt, black slacks, and black leather loafers. He wore thick jewelry on his wrist and around his neck. He’d been drinking since the early afternoon. Now that he’d switched to the hard stuff, he was rambling in overdrive.
“It’s the same thing, you hear about a broad has a nice personality,” he went on. “Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. You’re guaran-fuckin-teed, though, she has this great personality, she’s no looker. Comfortable fit is the same fuckin’ thing. It means you don’t need to stand around a locker room full of Mandingos to know you were robbed at birth. It means you’re the type has to crowd the piss stalls. Even the stalls in this place, which are like fuckin’ showers, you got a comfortable fitting dick, you don’t want nobody else to see it. Not that they can that easy, anyway.”