Curtains by Scott Nicholson Page B

room?"
    The man nodded toward the rear, eyes still
fixed on the set, where the field anchor was now interviewing a
witness. As Vincent headed for the dark bowels of the bar, he
overheard the witness talking about airline food. The news team was
groping, fumbling to keep momentum, the tragedy already sliding
toward ancient history. The transvestite winked as Vincent passed,
and up close Vincent couldn't tell if she were a man dressed as a
woman or vice versa.
    Sheesh, and I thought I had an identity
problem.
    But maybe the she-male was onto something. In
the bathroom, Vincent studied his own face in the mirror, trying to
picture himself in lipstick. He shuddered. Better to take on Joey
Scattione than to pluck his eyebrows and duct-tape his gut.
    He washed his hands and went out. The
transvestite was waiting by the door. Vincent cleared his throat.
"Say, you got change for a phone call?"
    The transvestite sneered and produced some
coins, then dumped them into Vincent's palm as if afraid to catch a
disease. Vincent mumbled thanks and stopped by the pay phone. He
dialed a well-remembered number. As the phone rang, he watched to
see which gender of bathroom the transvestite chose.
    Neither. The transvestite went out the back
door. The line clicked as the connection was made. "Hello," came
the welcome though nasal voice.
    "Sid, hey, it's me. Vincent."
    "Vincent? Like I know any Vincent?"
    "Hartbarger. You know."
    "Afraid not, friend."
    "Jesus, Sid. Vincent Hartbarger. You sold me
the damned name yourself, for crying out loud. Driver's license,
Rotary Club membership, credit cards."
    "I don't know from Hartbargers."
    Vincent sighed and remembered he’d used a
fake identity to get his fake identity. "It's Charlie Ehle."
    "Charlie? Why the hell didn't you say so? You
expect me to remember every job or something?"
    "Yeah, yeah. Listen, I need another one. Like
pronto."
    "Rush jobs cost extra, my man. But for you, I
can have you set up by five o'clock."
    Vincent nodded into the phone. Sid always got
chummy when he smelled green. For a document man, Sid had enough
smarm to work every side of the fence: green cards, counter check
scams, fake IDs, forgery, bogus lottery tickets, anything that
involved paper or photographs. But Sid liked cash, lots of it,
payable when services were rendered.
    "Can't you do better than five? I'm kind of
in a jam."
    "Oh, the Scattione thing."
    The Scattione thing. Damn those Feds.
Vincent's testimony was delivered in closed court, the records
sealed. Sure, Vincent expected stoolies in the judicial branch to
leak to the Mafia. This was America, after all. But when even the
criminal fringes such as Sid knew the score, that meant the clock
was ticking down twice per second on Vincent's remaining life
span.
    "Fix me up, what do you say, pal? Just the
basics."
    Sid let out a slow whistle. "It don't pay to
cross Scattione. But I guess you already know that, huh?"
    "I can give you five grand."
    That shut up the weasel. For a moment. Then
the shrewd voice came across the wires. "How come the spooks didn't
set you up? Figured you'd be a family man from Des Moines by
now."
    "We decided to part company," Vincent said.
"You think I could hide from Scattione while some of them secret
agent types were guarding me?"
    "Suppose not. So, what are you in the mood
for? Irish? Got some McGinnitys all ready to roll off the
press."
    "With my coloring? You got to be kidding." He
glanced at the bartender, who was watching the news as if it were a
boxing match. The transvestite entered through the back door,
ignoring Vincent.
    "Okay, okay, already. Where you at?"
    "Just off Van Wyck."
    "Meet me at Naomi's Deli on Greenway. Five
o'clock."
    "You need a recent photo?" Vincent asked out
of habit. He knew Sid kept files on all his old customers. You
never knew when blackmail might come in handy.
    "No. And let's make it six grand. I got two
kids to put through college." The phone clicked and then hummed.
Vincent hung up and went back to the