The Racketeer

take that chance. She can’t wait to see the new-and-improved version.
    As I park outside the restaurant, in a suburb of Richmond, I have a bad case of the butterflies. I’m a wreck because I am about to finally touch the woman I have dreamed about for almost three years. I know she wants to touch me too, but the guy she was so physically attracted to back then looks entirely different now. What if she doesn’t approve? What if she prefers Malcolm to Max? It’s also unnerving to realize I’m about to spend time with the only person, outside the Feds, who knows both men.
    I wipe perspiration from my forehead and consider leaving. Then I get out and slam the door.
    She’s at the table, and as I almost stutter-step over, she smiles. She approves. I kiss her gently on the cheek and sit down, and for a long time we just look at each other. Finally, I say, “Well, what do you think?”
    Vanessa shakes her head and says, “Pretty astonishing. I would have never known. Got any ID?” We both laugh and I say, “Sure, but it’s all bogus. It says I’m Max now, not Malcolm.”
    “You look thin, Max.”
    “Thanks, and you too.” I caught a glimpse of her legs under the table. Short skirt. Funky high heels. She’s dressed for action.
    “Which do you prefer?” I ask.
    “Well, I suppose I don’t have a choice now, do I? I think you’re cute, Max. I like the new you, the whole ensemble. Whose idea was the designer eyeglasses?”
    “My consultant, same guy who suggested the slick head and four days of stubble.”
    “The more I see, the more I like.”
    “Thank God. I’m a nervous wreck.”
    “Relax, baby. We’re in for a long night.”
    The waiter takes our drink orders—a martini for me, diet soda for her. There are a lot of things I don’t want to discuss, namely my sudden exit from prison and witness protection. The brother she visited in prison got out but is already back behind bars, so we leave him out of the conversation. I ask about her kids, a daughter who’s twenty and in college and a son who’s eighteen and drifting.
    At one point, as I’m talking, she stops me and says, “You even sound different.”
    “Good. It’s a new speech pattern I’ve been practicing for months now. A much slower delivery and a deeper voice. Does it seem genuine?”
    “I think so. Yes, it’s working.”
    She asks where I’m living, and I explain I’ve yet to find a home. I’m moving around, trying to avoid getting trailed by the FBI and others, lots of cheap motels. I’m not a fugitive, but I’m not exactly in the clear. Our dinner arrives, but we hardly notice.
    She says, “You look a lot younger. Maybe I should see your plastic surgeon.”
    “Please, don’t change a thing.” I talk about the changes—primarily the eyes, nose, and chin. I amuse her by describing the meetings with my surgical team and our efforts to design a new face. I’m also twenty pounds lighter and she thinks I need to put on a few pounds. As our nerves settle we relax and talk like a couple of old friends. The waiter asks if our food is okay, sincewe’ve hardly touched it. We hit a number of topics, but in the back of our minds we’re both thinking the same thing. I finally say, “Let’s get outta here.”
    The words are barely spoken and she’s reaching for her purse. I pay cash for the meal and we’re in the parking lot. I don’t like the idea of her apartment and she agrees. It’s rather small and bare, she explains. We check into a hotel I spotted down the street and order a bottle of champagne. Two kids on their wedding night could not possibly exert more energy than Vanessa and I. There was so much ground to cover, so much catching up to do.

CHAPTER 29
    W hile Vanessa is at work, I run a few errands around Richmond. At one store, I spend $70 on a cheap prepaid cell phone with one hundred minutes of call time, and at another I buy the identical phone and plan for $68. I’ll give one phone to Vanessa and keep the other. At a pharmacy, I load up on prepaid credit cards. I have an appointment with a man who owns a camera shop and calls himself a videographer, but his fee is too high. If I’m lucky and get an interview, I’ll need two people—a cameraman and a gofer. This guy says he works with a full crew or doesn’t work at all.
    Vanessa and I have a sandwich for lunch in a deli not far from her office. For dinner, we go to a bistro in the Carytown section of Richmond. Our after-dinner routine is remarkably,