I always wanted to be: a good thief. And a good thief always cleans up after himself.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“I knew you were the real thing,” the old man said, showing me teeth.
I was working on getting back to things everybody does, like getting up when the alarm went off. What I mean is, the alarm I set, not those damn prison gongs.
But I hadn’t even bothered to set the alarm last night; I knew I couldn’t do any of the things I wanted to do until the afternoon, so I just slept in.
I’d filled the refrigerator with protein shakes and power bars, stuff like that. I’d picked up a lot of vitamins, too. I don’t really know much about them. A young guy in the health store, he picked most of the stuff out for me.
He didn’t know he was doing that, I don’t think; just assumed he knew what I’d want. Which was a good thing, since I didn’t want to be asking a lot of questions. You do that, people remember you. I even let him sell me a set of dumbbells for traveling … the kind you fill with water.
I didn’t really have any special taste for that powdered stuff, but it was what guys who power-lifted were always talking about. And I figured that woman downstairs, she’d be nosing around, sooner or later. I wanted it to look like I really was what it said I was on those business cards.
“It’s always better you don’t try looking like something you couldn’t be,” Solly said. “Nobody’s gonna buy you’re an accountant, but you don’t have to look like a thug, either.
“So forget the fancy suits. Get a nice leather jacket—a nice one, I’m saying. Go to Bally on Madison, spend some money. Clean pair of jeans, good sneakers. Not like the kids wear, like … you know, athletic shoes? Simple black ones. There’s a store a few blocks from Bally. Mephisto. All they sell is shoes, and they’ll have what you need.
“And a white shirt. Not a stiff one, like mine,” he said, holding out his hand so I could feel his cuff—it was like a smooth-faced brick. “Silk is best. No custom-made stuff, just off the rack. A good rack, though. You wear a shirt like that, no tie, under that leather jacket, you’re good to go.”
“Okay,” I said. I’d lived a lot of years without stuff like that, but Solly, he was setting up jobs before I was born.
“Next, you get yourself another leather jacket. Heavier one. Pair of work boots, steel toes. Scuff ’em up so they don’t look new. Lose the good shirt, wear a pullover. Now you’re a guy who works with his hands for a living. Between those two looks, that’s all you’ll ever need.”
“You said there was something I could do about—”
“Way ahead of you, kid.” He handed me something that looked like a skinny tube of lipstick. “Just fill in the scar with this. Not too much; you want it to look natural. The scar’s so white you really can’t see it until you’re up close. Unless you get a flashbulb exploding in your face, nobody’ll even notice. I even got you a present.”
He handed me a long, narrow little box. Inside, a pair of glasses. I put them on. But I didn’t see anything different.
“ ‘What’re these for?’ is what you’re thinking, am I right?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not a … disguise or anything.”
“No? That’s exactly what it is. These glasses, they got no prescription. Just plain glass. With a tiny little bit of tint, like the ones they make for indoor-outdoor. You know, the brighter it gets, the darker they get? Go look at yourself in the mirror over there.”
That’s when I saw what Solly meant. The glasses didn’t change my face or anything, but you couldn’t see my eyes through them. I mean, you could see them, but not good enough to see the colors.
“Get used to them,” Solly told me. “I got three more for you, exactly the same. Wear them all the time. After a while, it’ll be just like brushing your teeth in the morning.”
“Thanks, Solly,” I said. And I meant it—compared to Solly, I was still an amateur.
I was unlocking my car when the woman came out.
“Those look good on you,” she said.
“What?”
“The glasses. When did you start—?”
“Oh. No, I always wear these,” I told her, “they’re prescription.” This one doesn’t miss much. “But it takes a while to make