C25 Eddie Giles

Billy had a plan.

Chauncey was unconscious. He had been unconscious for

several hours. Billy took Chauncey’s silver metal suitcase from under his mat and opened it up. He stripped five ten-thousand-dollar bills and stuffed it in his herringbone suit. He put the silver metal suitcase back under the mat again.

Billy trimmed his hair. He trimmed his beard. He reeked of aftershave lotion.

Billy went to the Tenderloin. He went to a barbershop and got a real haircut. A woman cut his fingernails and toenails and left them all glistening with a light varnish. Billy kept his eyes closed the whole time.

When they were finished, and he opened his eyes and looked in the mirror, he couldn’t recognize himself. The barber trimmed his beard better than Billy ever could, neatly angular, making him look a little like Old Abe Lincoln.

He had gaunt cheeks, deeply furrowed. He had the pitched nose.

He had the sunken eyes.

He was tall and skinny.

He stooped when he walked, from the vicissitudes of life.

It was all about character, Billy told himself.

The ham sandwiches and baked beans had done their job.

As he continued through the Tenderloin, nobody recognized him in his herringbone suit and tasseled loafers and manicured hair.

He was clearly a man of distinction. They showed signs of respect. They stepped aside. They knew that he was so far above them that they were afraid to ask for money.

The rich could shoot someone if they proved annoying. They never gave out money anyway. Billy knew where to go for a new ID. He knew where to go for a passport. The people who assisted him also promised they could arrange a private flight from the airport with a safe landing anywhere he wanted.

When Billy asked them how they could guarantee it, they told him that the cartel they belonged to was a member of the Global Cartel Union. Billy gave them the fifty thousand dollars stashed in his suit and told them he’d be back with the rest in cash when he saw the goods.

They took his photograph and told him to come back in twen- ty-four hours. They would have a passport, driver’s license, and birth certificate.

Billy was looking forward to not being Billy Wild anymore. They agreed on Eddie Giles.

They asked him when he wanted to leave. He told them New Year’s Eve. They told him to come back in twenty-four hours with the rest of the cash.

Billy trusted them with the money. He had heard about them for years. He had nowhere else to go anyway.

Billy stopped at a travel agency and picked up some brochures. He wanted to go someplace warm. He never wanted to be cold again. He stopped in a little restaurant on Hyde Street and sat in a soft booth and ordered the daily special. It came with soup, salad, bread, and dessert. The prime rib was cooked perfectly. The puddle of gravy on his mashed potatoes sent him heavenward. The boiled carrots smothered in butter left him dreamy.

He had passed the windows of these restaurants for years, always glancing in to see what someone was eating while his stomach ached with starvation. When he knew he would never eat at a restaurant again.

Billy felt resilient. He had a plan.

He sat there with apple pie and ice cream and couldn’t remem- ber when he’d been so happy. He took a taxi downtown and went to Macy’s off Union Square. He bought a new suit, new shoes, new socks, new shirts and a new tie. He went to a walk-in dentist and got his teeth cleaned.

He didn’t want to look like Chauncey Gibbons anymore. He was Eddie Giles now. He left Chauncey’s shoes and clothes in a Dumpster.

He thought it might be a good idea to let Chauncey roost for a while. He took a taxi to the Fairmont Hotel at the top of Nob Hill. He got a room on the top floor, overlooking the city and the bay and the hills of Marin across the bay. He took a bath for five hours. He ordered more food. He arranged for a massage in the morning.

Billy knew his time had come.

Billy had a plan.

It was all going to change, and it was all going to change quickly.