I went behind the bar and got down on my knees. I knew the combination by heart and I knew it would only take me a few seconds to open the safe.
I fucked up the combination the first time and I had to do it again. I felt the veins in my forehead pulsing and sweat was dripping down the back of my neck. The safe didn’t open the second time either. Maybe I was screwing up the numbers. Then, on the third try, I heard a click. The door swung open.
Seeing the money gave me a head rush. I had no idea how much was there, but there were stacks of fifties, twenties, and tens—mostly twenties—wrapped in rubber bands. I grabbed a stack of twenties, but realized I had no place to put it. Fuck, I didn’t think about that. The pockets of my jeans were too tight and there were no bags lying around. Then I heard a sound—footsteps coming toward the front of the bar. I put the twenties back in the safe and shut the door quietly. The person was in the room now. I crawled to the other end of the bar so I’d be away from the safe and I stood up.
“Jesus Christ,” Frank said, taking a few steps backwards. He was breathing hard. “You just scared the living shit out of me.”
“I was just putting some bottles in the fridge,” I said.
“Well don’t pop up like that. Jesus.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Eh, it’s all right. Actually, I’m glad you’re still here. You want to go get some breakfast with me?”
“I was just gonna head home,” I said. “I mean after I finish up here.”
“Where’s Gary?”
“Went downtown to catch a band.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’ll finish that up tomorrow when we open. I really wish you’d just come out with me. I’m losing my mind and I need somebody to talk to. Food’s on me.”
I couldn’t rob the safe tonight anyway—not after Frank saw me crawling around behind the bar—so I told him I’d go. I went to the back to wash up and get my jacket. I couldn’t believe I didn’t have that money. I could still feel the stack of bills in my hand and I could still see Andrew Jackson’s face on the twenties. Some banks were open on Saturdays—maybe Frank was going to make a deposit tomorrow morning. This might’ve been my one shot at getting the money and I blew it.
We took a cab to the Green Kitchen on the corner of Seventy-seventh and First. Frank once told me how he’d been going there for twenty years and how it was his favorite diner in New York. As usual on a weekend night, the place was packed with the drunken spillover from the nearby bars. There were mostly preppy college kids, assholes who couldn’t handle their liquor, carrying on, trying to pick up the tired, haggard waitresses. Frank and I sat at a table for two on the side, next to the windows. Frank ordered a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie. I was famished, and since the meal was on Frank anyway, I decided to pig out. I ordered pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage, bacon, and a side order of French toast.
Frank went on and on, talking about Debbie. At first, I was zoning out, still pissed off about missing out on the chance of getting that money. Then I caught on as Frank was saying:
“...I mean how much longer can it go on like this? I think I’ve been very patient, as patient as anybody could be under the circumstances. I’ve tried to make her see a shrink, but she won’t go. It’s like all she cares about is making my life miserable.”
“Dump her,” I said.
“I’m going to,” he said, “but it’s not so easy. “We’ve been together a long time—seven years.”
“You wanna be married to her for seven more years?”
“No—of course not.”
“Then tell her you want a divorce. Don’t even think about it anymore. Just do it.”
“You’re right,” he said. “That’s what I’m gonna do—soon.”
The waitress came with our food. I dug in, blocking out Frank again. I was so hungry I think I might’ve sucked in some bacon strips through my nose. But I started listening again when Frank said:
“So here’s my offer to you, Tommy. After I divorce Debbie I’m gonna want a change of scenery. I don’t think I’m ready to go into the sunset, but getting some sun might not be a bad idea. I’m sick of these cold fucking winters—I figure I might give Arizona a shot. I know I can’t trust Gary to run the bar and I think you’ve got a bigger head for business than him anyway. But there’s a condition involved—I’m not gonna turn over the bar to you just like that. You have to prove that you’ve quit gambling, and I mean really quit. No more going to the racetrack or taking trips to Atlantic City. I’m not gonna give you my bar for you to blow all the money at the track. You go cold turkey or there’s no deal.”
“But what about my acting career?” I asked.
“This is just something to fall back on,” he said. “If you get your big break and make it in Hollywood you can say sayonara and I’ll get somebody else to take over. Believe me, I’ll have no problem doing that. I just think you’re a good guy and you deserve a chance to be successful and I want to help you any way I can. So what do you say? Will you do it?”
“You mean it?” I said. “You’re really gonna retire?”
“I never said the word ‘retire.’ Let’s just call it a permanent vacation. I’ll probably come back and forth to New York and, who knows, maybe I’ll open an Irish bar in Arizona.”
“Man, I can’t believe this,” I said. “You’re really asking me to run O’Reilley’s?”
“I’m only doing this because I have faith in you,” Frank said, “and because I know you’re the one guy in the world I can trust. And because I think you’re the best man for the job.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said. “Believe me—I won’t let you down.”
While I finished eating, Frank told me more about his plans to divorce Debbie and to move to Arizona. I told Frank he would be happy out there and other things I knew would make him feel good. After Frank paid the bill at the register we went outside into the cold. Frank said he was going to take a cab home. We hugged goodbye, then I held open the door of the cab for Frank to get in.
I’d always liked walking the streets at night, especially in the winter. There was nobody around, not even any homeless people. Tonight I was thinking how crazy my life was. A few days ago I had nothing—now I was going to be the manager of a bar. Soon the days of getting turned down at audition after audition, feeling like a loser, were going to be gone for good. The new job would help me with the robbery too. Nobody would believe that the future manager of a bar would rob his own bar’s Super Bowl pool.
Eight
The next day, Saturday, all I could think about was getting another crack at that safe. I was getting stir crazy sitting home so I decided to go to the gym to pump some iron.
Nowadays, I only worked out once or twice a week and sometimes I didn’t go for a couple of weeks at a clip. It didn’t really matter as far as work was concerned though because I had big muscles naturally and I always looked like I was in shape.
My gym was part of the Lenox Hill Neighborhood Association. It was a shitty gym, but it was cheap, running me only about three hundred bucks a year. I spent about an hour in the weight room, working my back and chest, then I went into the gym to play some pickup basketball. My team was losing and I was getting frustrated. This big blond guy tried to box me out for a rebound, pushing me back with his ass, so I took a swing at him, busting his lip. A few other guys broke up the fight, then the blond guy went to get some first aid. I played a few more games, then I jogged back to my apartment and took a shower.