Appleton Manor

Jason was impressed by the bluster of the little man standing in front of him. The combination of swears hurled at him had been almost poetic in originality and was so foul that even he felt a slight twinge of disgust.

“Sir," Jason repeated in a voice that imperceptibly showed his amusement, “I'm very sorry for the trouble however you will have to move your car immediately. Only construction vehicles are allowed. The signs have been posted for days now."

Still cursing , the man pulled away, saying that he would be sure to speak with his supervisor. “Go ahead,” thought Jason, “he's probably already drunk."

The parking lot at Appleton Manor yacht club had been packed for hours and he could only guess how much longer the annual ball following the July regatta would last. He vaguely wondered how these people would get home given the massive quantities of liquor they had already consumed but he realized that such a question really wasn't his concern. He figured that a car accident or two as a result of drunk driving was a right of passage of most white people, anyway.

He had worked as a parking attendant at the place for almost three weeks, and was sure it was the best summer gig you could have. He parked cars, directed traffic and enforced the rules of the lot. The renovation of the northern wing of the club house had made parking particularly difficult and the outrage of so many of the club patrons had been almost venomous, particularly when dealing with Jason and the other attendants.

Jason took it all in stride. He had amassed a small fortune in tips and had dealt with it all with the equanimity of a saint. He went to school with many of the sons and daughters of the club membership and frequently ran into kids he knew. While another teenager might have been embarrassed to have been serving his own peers , Jason was hardly effected. Most of the kids recognized him of course, as he was one of three black students at the town's renowned public high school, but he mostly kept to himself at school so few people knew him all that well. In fact José Reyes, the one close friend he did have from school, had recommended him for the job when the club began hiring for the summer season.

“Reyes says that you're the right man for the job," Tim Danielson, the club House manager and supervisor had said from his over stuffed chair in the Chard Room. The tiny space was in the basement of club, directly beneath the squash courts where one could hear the dull scuffle of a match in progress above.

“Yes sir, I hope so," Jason had answered agreeably. The manager squinted at Jason through wary eyes that were watery from constant drink. The membership knew that Danielson was overly fond of his liquor, but like all rich white folk, they never confronted or even discussed it. After all, he seemed to manage his affairs well enough didn't he?

“ How old are you?" inquired Danielson.

“17 "

“License? ”

“ Yes sir."

“Clean record?“

" I've had a parking ticket, but no accidents."

“Jail?"

“No SIR!"

“Ah. Well, I see."

The older man leaned back in his chair, cocked his head to the side and gazed inquisitively at the boy in front of him.

“Say, where are you from?” Danielson finally said.

“Born and raised here in New High Town sir.”

“Yea? What do your parents do?"

“I live with my grandma. She's an accountant, sir.”

“I see. She the one who told you to talk polite and shit?”

“Sir?”

“Or was that Reyes, that son of a bitch. He say you had to kiss ass to get hired? ”

“No sir, I-” But the white man waved him off.

“Tell me son, you got a girlfriend?”

“Yes sir"

“She nice?"

“She always treats me good, yea." Danielson chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Is.she. good.in.the. sack?" asked the white man, enunciating each word as though Jason were hard of hearing. The conversation had gained a dangerous edge that Jason could feel acutely. He resolved to smile and stay silent.

“Well? Is she?!"

“Yes, sir, I mean, I guess," mumbled Jason, feeling his heart flutter in embarrassment.

A moment of silence passed between the two, and then Danielson began to laugh, so forcefully that it sounded as though he was choking.

“You GUESS so?!!! Ha! You're a comedian!"

“If you say so, sir," Jason said, grinning sheepishly. Just as soon as Danielson had begun laughing, he stopped and became gravely serious.

“Listen, Jason is it? I'm just busting your balls. Now let me tell you something. You don't have to call ME sir OR mister or master or whatever manners granny told you to use, but with them out there, you must always be on your shit. Smiling, pleasant. Can you do that?”

“ Yes sir!" Jason said with zeal.

"Don't be an asshole, son. If you're not completely stupid, you'll do fine here."

And with those words of encouragement, Jason had been hired.