Hands shoved into her pockets, Nomi gives a short nod. “Yes. It’ll show whether you have an existing criminal record in America, or were arrested and fingerprinted in America prior to being charged with a criminal offense.”
“Will I show up in the system if I’m not a criminal?”
“Well, there’s a couple reasons you might show up, but I guess being a criminal is the main one.” Nomi scuffs at the pavement with the toe of her boot. “If we do get a hit, it’ll probably be a double-edged sword.”
“We’ll have some answers, but we may not like what those answers will be.” It’s a solemn thought.
She tries to keep things positive. “At least you’ll have some certainty. You’ll know who you are. And if your prints hit, and you have a criminal charge in your background, you probably want to know what that is, right?”
He wants to say “That depends,” but the words stick in his throat.
Nomi goes on. “Look, the criminal database is a pretty broad church. Maybe you boosted a car when you were a teenager. Maybe you got busted for shoplifting or something.”
“And if I don’t have a criminal charge? I’m not wild about the idea of my prints being added to the system.” He wonders if she’s forgotten the risks. She’s not the one walking around with fake papers.
“Like I said, your prints won’t be going to immigration. Either way, the best idea would be to not get arrested anytime in the future—which, you know, I’d probably recommend that as a general life strategy anyway.”
“Don’t get arrested, huh?” Simon makes a grimace. “Well, Claude Ameche was checking up on me at Gennaro’s last night, so I can’t make any promises.”
Nomi straightens, alarmed. “Ameche went after you at work?”
“My supervisor gave me a heads-up about it. I guess it was inevitable—Ameche knows who I am, he knows where you live, he’s seen us together.”
They both just hold that in silence for a moment. Yes, it’s Simon’s fuckup that’s brought this judgment down. But maybe Nomi’s lines of investigation were always going to draw fire. Either way, they’re going to have to figure out a solution together.
Nearby, a group of partygoers breaks into laughter. There are weeds on the sidewalk here, sticking up through gaps in the concrete. Up ahead, a six-story apartment building just before the Riverview Hotel.
“Okay, we should talk about that a bit more,” Nomi suggests. “But let’s do this first.”
“Nomi?” Simon looks at her directly. “Will you get the results of the fingerprint search tonight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She looks as apprehensive as he does. “As soon as I know, I’ll tell you. Are you still okay to come with me?”
The idea that he might find out who he is tonight gives him a seasick feeling. Simon takes a deep breath.Stop worrying about the man you were. Concentrate on being the man you want to become.This might not be the big deal he’s built it up to be. The search might turn up nothing, right?
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, of course I’m okay to come with you.”
“Good. Thank you. All right, let’s go.”
Simon’s walked past the Riverview a couple times as he’s explored the village, but he’s never seen the redbrick octagonal tower at night before. The entry facade is lit up, the columns glowing yellow and pink. On the sidewalk, near the wrought iron banister at the foot of the grand front stairs, clusters of men gather, walk off, waving or shouting at friends across the street. A thirtysomething guy in shiny sweatpants, a leopard-spotted shirt, and a Day-Glo headband loiters between a dumpster and a fire hydrant.
“There’s Mischa,” Nomi says. “Hold still here—give me a second.”
She walks over to talk to Day-Glo-headband man. Simon finds a spot to lean his butt against the railing for the external stairs to the basement, where he can watch passersby and smoke a cigarette. Nomi and her drug dealer friend make a subtle exchange, make conversation. There’s the sound of a car horn honking farther up the block. Music is faint in the background. A few people ascend the stairs to the Riverview lobby.
Mischa strolls off toward West Street, and Nomi wanders back. “Hey, I have to go inside.”
“You didn’t get what you needed?”
“I did, but Mischa said my friend Enrique wants to see me. It’s a film screening, so it won’t be too crazy. Let’s go up.”
At the top of the Riverview stairs, the lobby area has some nice tiling and decorative lamps and balcony railings. There’s faint whooping and tinkling piano behind a heavy door, but it doesn’t seem like there’s a dance party going on. To the right of the lobby, a reception desk. Nomi explains what’s happening to the heavily made-up blond kid behind the counter, who’s snapping gum.
“Enrique’s already changed into Eureka backstage.” The blond receptionist has a strong New Jersey accent. “You just want to dash in and talk?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to stay for the whole movie,” Nomi says.
“Okay, no problem.” But as Nomi and Simon walk for the door, the receptionist waves. “Hold up, honey—you can’t go in. It’s Ladies’ Night.”
