Read Online Marine Park: Stories by Mark Chiusano - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark Chiusano
Tags: dpgroup.org, Fluffer Nutter
Ads: Link
printed on them in white, on the side. He was wearing a white polo shirt, which was tucked into his pants. She imagined that this was emblazoned with the hotel signature too. It was only his belt that was something different, a pattern of red lobsters in a blue sea. Timothy always complained that she paid too much attention to little things. She never found a way to tell him that because he didnât, he wouldnât understand.
The valet stayed with his arms on his hips, looking out toward the path for cars coming in. After a while he said, Iâm sure you didnât mean to be rude.
Courtney arched her shoulders.
Excuse me? she said.
Rude, he said. You know, when you donât respond to something that someone says to you.
Courtney had that feeling that the human body secretes when it starts panicking, though itâs in no immediate danger. She started to open her mouth, then thought better of it.
Go on, the valet said. I can take it. But she pushed her hackles down, and the panicked feeling began to subside.
I see people like you fellas all the time, the valet said. Courtney wondered how old he might be. This hotel isnât getting any newer. And northerners donât tip, you know.
Is that true? Courtney said. Thatâs not true for us. My boyfriend tipped you when we left yesterday.
The valet raised his eyebrows. Boyfriend? he said. Arenât you a little old for that?
Courtney thought she would feel the panicked feeling again, but she didnât. Who even knows, she said.
The valet squinted lazily out onto the lawn, toward the dock. He pointed his thumb at the chair Courtney was sitting in, and said, Youâre sitting right where Sean Penn was sitting.
Really? Courtney said.
Yep, he said. Last Christmas. Big Christmas party. The heat wasnât working in the ballroom, so they put outdoor heaters into a tent out here, and there must have been a thousand people.
Good business, Courtney said.
Good tips, the valet said. When I got Sean Pennâs car, once he got in, he gave me five hundred dollars.
A good day, Courtney said.
The valet nodded. He was drunk, said the valet. But he was real friendly. He shook my hand. The valet showed her his palm, as if the touch were still there. Are you some kind of actress too? he said.
Courtney thought about the nonprofit where she worked. It helped set up typing classes for women and the handicapped in Kibera, and got them work digitizing documents. She had wanted a womenâs issue job, but she wasnât in love with the outsourcing. Sometimes she left that part out. Timothy was an air conditioner repairman at an apartment complex in midtown, and he made more money than she did. Yes, she told the valet. My husband too.
Husband? the valet said.
You know what I mean.
I guess so. Sometimes you have to try it out. Would I have seen any of your movies?
I doubt it, she told him. She suddenly felt very tired. She realized, without having anything she could do about it, that she didnât have any dollar bills in her purse. The drink was draining from her body, and she would have been ready for Timothy to walk over to her, for her to say she was sorry, for him to apologize first. I know you do things your own way, he would say, fumbling. They could make arguments out of nothing. It was exhausting just thinking about it.
The valet looked carefully down the wide sweep of the road, buzzing with night bugs.
Hell, he said, thereâs no one coming. Itâs the off-season, he said. He sat in the wicker chair next to her.
They listened to the creaking of the old windows, above their heads.
Have you ever been to Disney World? the valet asked. When she didnât answer immediately, he said, Lots of guests go there from here.
No, she said. Timothy had gone all the time when he was younger, with his family, she thought she remembered.
The valet didnât look surprised. For a while, he said, I used to work at one of the hotels right on the
The valet stayed with his arms on his hips, looking out toward the path for cars coming in. After a while he said, Iâm sure you didnât mean to be rude.
Courtney arched her shoulders.
Excuse me? she said.
Rude, he said. You know, when you donât respond to something that someone says to you.
Courtney had that feeling that the human body secretes when it starts panicking, though itâs in no immediate danger. She started to open her mouth, then thought better of it.
Go on, the valet said. I can take it. But she pushed her hackles down, and the panicked feeling began to subside.
I see people like you fellas all the time, the valet said. Courtney wondered how old he might be. This hotel isnât getting any newer. And northerners donât tip, you know.
Is that true? Courtney said. Thatâs not true for us. My boyfriend tipped you when we left yesterday.
The valet raised his eyebrows. Boyfriend? he said. Arenât you a little old for that?
Courtney thought she would feel the panicked feeling again, but she didnât. Who even knows, she said.
The valet squinted lazily out onto the lawn, toward the dock. He pointed his thumb at the chair Courtney was sitting in, and said, Youâre sitting right where Sean Penn was sitting.
Really? Courtney said.
Yep, he said. Last Christmas. Big Christmas party. The heat wasnât working in the ballroom, so they put outdoor heaters into a tent out here, and there must have been a thousand people.
Good business, Courtney said.
Good tips, the valet said. When I got Sean Pennâs car, once he got in, he gave me five hundred dollars.
A good day, Courtney said.
The valet nodded. He was drunk, said the valet. But he was real friendly. He shook my hand. The valet showed her his palm, as if the touch were still there. Are you some kind of actress too? he said.
Courtney thought about the nonprofit where she worked. It helped set up typing classes for women and the handicapped in Kibera, and got them work digitizing documents. She had wanted a womenâs issue job, but she wasnât in love with the outsourcing. Sometimes she left that part out. Timothy was an air conditioner repairman at an apartment complex in midtown, and he made more money than she did. Yes, she told the valet. My husband too.
Husband? the valet said.
You know what I mean.
I guess so. Sometimes you have to try it out. Would I have seen any of your movies?
I doubt it, she told him. She suddenly felt very tired. She realized, without having anything she could do about it, that she didnât have any dollar bills in her purse. The drink was draining from her body, and she would have been ready for Timothy to walk over to her, for her to say she was sorry, for him to apologize first. I know you do things your own way, he would say, fumbling. They could make arguments out of nothing. It was exhausting just thinking about it.
The valet looked carefully down the wide sweep of the road, buzzing with night bugs.
Hell, he said, thereâs no one coming. Itâs the off-season, he said. He sat in the wicker chair next to her.
They listened to the creaking of the old windows, above their heads.
Have you ever been to Disney World? the valet asked. When she didnât answer immediately, he said, Lots of guests go there from here.
No, she said. Timothy had gone all the time when he was younger, with his family, she thought she remembered.
The valet didnât look surprised. For a while, he said, I used to work at one of the hotels right on the
Similar Books
