I relaxed on my couch awhile, eating peanut butter sandwiches and watching college basketball, then at around five I got ready to go to work. Tonight, when I opened the safe, I was going to be prepared. I had a big black Hefty bag to put the money into so if anybody saw me leaving the bar they’d think I was just taking out some garbage.
At six o’clock I arrived at O’Reilley’s. Gary was sitting at a table near the front of the bar. Right away I knew something was wrong. He looked up at me, then looked right back down at his plate of chicken wings.
“How’s it goin’?” I said, but he still wouldn’t look at me.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” he said.
“Hey, don’t get pissed off at me,” I said. “Talk to your father if you got a problem.”
“You’re not running this bar,” Gary said. “There’s no fucking way. You don’t know shit about running a bar. You’re just some idiot bouncer.”
I grabbed Gary by his shirt and lifted him out of his seat.
“Let me go,” he said.
“Watch it,” I said. “Just watch it.”
I let Gary go and went to the back to hang up my coat. I was mad for a while, then I got over it. Gary was a jealous fuck, but what difference did that make? Soon I’d be the manager of a bar and the owner of a race horse. What would he be?
I already had it planned out—on Monday I’d call Alan Schwartz and set up a time I could meet with him, Pete and the other guys. Then I’d meet Bill Tucker and the other big shots at the racetrack and my life would be completely different.
I was in a good mood again when Kathy came over to talk to me at the door. I could tell something was wrong. She was hanging her head and her shoulders were drooping.
“Cheer up,” I said. “It’s the weekend.”
“I didn’t get the part.”
“Part? What part?”
“You know—in that play I told you about...at the Manhattan Theatre Club.”
I stared at her for a couple of seconds and then it clicked.
“Oh, right. Sorry about that, Kath. That’s too bad.”
“My agent says they probably had this other woman in mind all along. She was in two plays at the MTC last year and the director likes her.”
“I guess there’s nothing you can do about it,” I said.
“I know,” she said, “it’s just so frustrating. I knew I could be great in that role, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Anyway, I was at this bookstore on the West Side before, looking at plays, and there’s this old Lanford Wilson play—you know, a one-act—and I think it would be great for our showcase.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” I said. “I’m not gonna be doing that showcase with you.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“Because I’m just not. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I just don’t want to do the showcase.”
“But why? I mean if we get producers to come down maybe we could—”
“Come on, I don’t want to argue with you about it, all right? I’m not doing the showcase. If you want to do it, you can, but I’m not doing it.”
She looked at me, shaking her head, then she walked away to take somebody’s order. I felt sorry for her. She’d probably be a waitress until some guy came along and asked her to marry him. Then she’d quit acting and realize she’d never had the talent to make it in the first place. She’d be in her mid-thirties, her looks fading, feeling like she’d wasted her youth. I wished there was a way I could help her see the light sooner.
It was a packed Saturday night crowd and people were lined up outside the bar all night long in the wind and cold. Usually, a busy night would be a big pain in the ass, but tonight I was in a good mood, joking around with everybody.
At around two o’clock, when the crowd started thinning out, I started thinking about the safe. It was like when I make a big bet at the track and I’m staring at the starting gate, totally focused, like me and the starting gate are the only two things in the world. You could have taken away the bar and all the people and put me in the middle of an empty street with that safe and I wouldn’t have known the difference. Frank came to me at the door and asked me if I was feeling all right, that I looked “out of it tonight.” I told him I was fine, but I thought I might be coming down with a cold. Frank walked away and I realized I had to act more like my usual self. I didn’t want Frank getting any ideas about me tomorrow when that money was missing.
Then I had a big break—Frank told me he was planning to go home early tonight.
“I don’t think I’ve shaken my cold yet either,” he said. “I think I’m gonna get home and get some rest. You leave early too—the flu’s going around and it’s a nasty one this year. Gary and the guys from the kitchen’ll do the cleaning up tonight.”
It was like Frank was on my side, helping me rob him. Kathy left early too, so all I had to do was get Gary out of the bar and I’d be set. But, it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about Gary either. I watched Frank go to the bar and talk to Gary. The music was loud so I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Frank was telling Gary to stay late and clean tonight and Gary was obviously pissed off. He said something and walked away. A few minutes after Frank left, Gary went home. There was nobody around to work the bar so I took over. It was closing time soon anyway and the crowd was clearing out.
I couldn’t believe how everything was working out for me. It was almost too easy, like it was some kind of trap. Maybe I moved the money around last night and Frank noticed. Maybe he set up some hidden camera behind the bar and he was going to catch me red-handed.
Stop being so paranoid. Just steal the fucking money.
I flashed the lights for last call. There were mostly single guys left in the bar, all trying to hit on these two drunk girls. To speed things along, I told the two girls that I wasn’t going to serve them any more beer. This got the girls out of the bar in a hurry—they were probably going to one of the bars down the block that stayed open later—and most of the guys soon followed.
Finally, about ten minutes later, the last guy left the bar and I locked the door. The music was still playing—Hootie & The Blowfish—but I was alone in the room. I went right behind the bar to the safe and got down on my knees. I missed a digit in the combination and whispered “Fuck,” biting down so hard on my bottom lip I tasted blood. My hands were shaking. Finally, the safe door opened and the money was still there, looking exactly like it did yesterday. Moving fast, like a bank robber, I put the bills in the Hefty bag. It took about thirty seconds, then I stood up, holding the bag of money. Nobody was there and Hootie was still singing. I was about to just leave, get the hell out of there, when I realized I didn’t have my coat. Fuck. Taking the Hefty bag with me, I went down the corridor to where my black leather coat was hanging in a closet near the bathroom. I put on my coat and walked back toward the front of the bar. When I got to the door, I turned around, sensing someone behind me. Rodrigo was there, scrubbing the bar with a rag. I could’ve just left, but I didn’t think this was a good idea. If I took off in a hurry, without saying anything, it might not look good tomorrow.
Trying to smile, I said, “Don’t you work hard enough in the kitchen?”
Rodrigo looked up like he was seeing me in the room for the first time.
“Frank tells me to clean the bar tonight,” Rodrigo said with his Mexican accent.
“Yeah, well Frank should pay you double your salary for doing that,” I said. I could tell Rodrigo couldn’t understand what I was saying so I rubbed my fingers together and said, “Mas dinero.”