Five Dollar Wrench

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Return To Reggie

Chivalry is dead.

— A Fighter Not A Lover

I wasn't sure what to do with the money I'd get from selling stolen Bitcoin to Foke, but it seemed wise to keep it away from my real name.

Could I get a checking account under a fake name? Surely not with the shitty fake ID I had.

I needed to know more, so I went back to Prints Plus to have a chat with Reggie.

"Hi again. I'm here to pick up my printer. Is it ready? Here's my receipt."

I handed him a fifty dollar bill with a note that said, "Expensive job. Let's talk. Not here. Ask me on a date. Hand me back this note."

You've gotta give guys very specific instructions. Even for something simple, lay it out, step by step.

He said, "Sorry, your printer's not ready yet. Hey, you wanna go on a date sometime?"

Subtlety is dead.

"Uhm, sure. I guess so. What time are you done with work? I could meet you here. Maybe there's someplace nearby to grab a drink?"

"Fuck it. There's nobody else here. I'll close up shop. Let's go now."

Chivalry is dead too.

"You are nothing if not the master of discretion, Reg."

"Hey, thanks."

We wandered a few blocks, to a bar called Afterglow. It's the kind of place that wants to look trendy but can't pull it off. But I'll never say no to tall booths and dark beer, even if I'm more of a whiskey girl at heart.

"You wanted to talk?" he said, the moment we sat down.

Patience is deader than dead.

"Jesus, Reggie. Let's get drinks first."

He ordered South Shore Mist. A pale ale for a pale guy seemed pretty on the nose, but I let it go. I got a Region Red Ale, which turned out to be as murky as the south end of Lake Michigan. I mean that in a good way, though. I never trust a beer I can see through.

"OK, Reg. Let's get to it. I need a better fake ID. Much better. If you can't do it, where do I find a guy?"

"How much better?"

"It needs to be good enough to open a bank account, so I can start establishing credit under that name."

"Five hundred bucks."

"Oh, that's not bad at all. I thought it would..."

"That's not for the ID. Look, if you want something good enough to use legally, you need legal documents. You can't just forge that kind of stuff. We're talking about high end work. It's not something I can do, but I know who can. Five hundred is for the connect."

"Got it. Five hundred."

Then, he awkwardly squirmed, which surely meant something bad.

"So, uh, I know this is business, but it could also be a date, right?"

Ugh. How did I not see that coming?

"Fuck no."

The wounded sheepdog look on his face was a good reminder. Never step on a guy that knows a guy, especially when you need a guy.

"Sorry, Reg. I thought you knew. I got a girlfriend." I figured a lie like that would make him like he wasn't being rejected. "But, hey, if I knew the right girl, I'd definitely set you up."

"Yeah, well, even the wrong girl would be good enough."

"No, she wouldn't. Shitty guys deserve shit. You deserve better."

That's a lie too, but like I said, he was doing me a solid.

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