To Become A Con Artist

Chapter Four

Sunday was the day in which every family dressed in their best formal attire and walked down to the Church of the Most Precious Blood to honor the Lords day.

The irony of it all was that after the service I would be on my way to the Copper Bull to meet some man and discuss the conning business.

The commandment had stated, "thou shalt not steal", but maybe the commandments were just as outdated as corsets and bonnets. I wanted to know more about what mystery man did although I didn't even know if I would see him again. Last night I had gotten lucky, but I didn't even know his name, or age, or where he lived. All I knew was that he was a con artist that was rather handsome. The former was less obvious than the latter.

"Go forth in the way of The Lord." Father O'Connor said in Latin, ending the mass. I sprang from the pew, but was stopped by Jean just as I reached the door.

"You want to come with some of us to the theater." I bit my lip feeling horrible that I would have to reject my best friend.

"Sorry Jean I can't, I have to-" I couldn't tell her the truth. She already hated pick pocketing so I could only imagine how she would react to another form of thievery. I had to lie. "Visit my aunt, the one that lives in Brooklyn."

"Oh. Well are we still going to-"

"Claire, I need you to pick up two pounds of chicken from Mr. Damo, a dozen eggs, and fruit." My mother interrupted. "Oh, hello Jean."

"Hi Mrs. Manor. Bye Claire, see you later." She said with a wink then trotted down the steps. My mother handed me two dollars. How was I going to get groceries and go to the Copper Bull. I had to go tell whoever I was meeting that I had to tend to my mother first.
                 ••••••
I removed the white satin gloves from my hands as I walked to the speakeasy. The note had said:

12:00 Copper Bull, Leonardo Bendino.

It was broad daylight so I waited until the street was clear before slipping into the alley that Jean and I had entered a couple nights prior. The Copper Bull was a bit far from where I lived, but during the day I could walk. At night the train was the wisest mode of transportation.

I knocked hard on the door occasionally peering over my shoulder. The same set of eyes appeared through the door slit demanding a password.

"Um, it's swordfish right?" I said remembering what Jean had said.

"Wrong!" The skit closed as I stood there in utter awe. How was that wrong? Did they change the word on a daily basis? I knocked again waiting for the eyes.

"Look, I'm here to meet someone." I waved the paper. "Some man gave this to me last night. Perhaps you know him. He has blonde hair, he's tall, uh- a scar under his eye. I swear he gave me this!"

The slit shut close. I tried to describe mystery man as exact as possible, but the door stayed shut. I knocked once more.

"Password." The stern voice demanded again.
"I still don't know it, but I know that the bartender's name is Scotty because I was here the other night and a man ordered me a gin. Now can you please let me in?" The set of eyes stayed trained on me then the door opened and I entered feeling empowered.

"Thank you." I said to the man even though I could not see him.

I heard no live music or even voices as I descended the stairs. However, a radio played a faint jazz tune that I was unfamiliar with. The area seemed much larger without all of the people. Scotty was behind the bar pouring a drink for the one man who reeked of alcohol and sat on a stool.