Thanks.___________________________________________________________________________________________________
The BMW first came to the Intercontinental hotel in the late afternoon. Whit wasn’t there to see it, but he later heard plenty about it from Jakey, who had had the privilege of driving it over to the garage.
“Ride’s like a dream,” Jakey reminisced later. His eyes were dreamy and unfocused. “Never drove a car like it.”
Whit thought this was a bit of an exaggeration. Though of course BMWs had a great rep, there were other cars out there that drove well. He was really more interested in what Niko told him about the older woman who drove the car.
“She tips very well,” he said in his Polish accent. “A rich woman, indeed.” Niko already had about ten dollars in tips just from helping her with her bags.
Despite her lovely car, the woman didn’t seem inclined to drive all around. The valets all noticed—to their great disappointment, as it meant fewer tips—that she walked everywhere. Whit had given up hope of even seeing the car, let alone getting an exorbitant tip, when she came out a couple evenings after her arrival and asked for the BMW.
There was a large crowd jostling at the hotel’s doors, but several well-placed bucks (once again in the hand of Niko) moved her up the queue. Dom was the lucky driver this time. He ran out across Carnegie to fetch her car.
Whit was present this time to see it.
Glory, was it a car. The only thing that alerted him to it was the sound of the engine—or rather, the effect of silence it created as it rolled smoothly up to the sidewalk where the crowd waited; the engine itself made little noise. There was a brief lull in conversation as people looked over to see who the owner was. The BMW sat there purring, as though basking in all the attention. It was an attractive forest green two-door, with xenon lights that came on automatically as it entered the shade under the roof.
Dominick stepped out and smiled at the woman, and held the door for her. He had barely closed it when the BMW moved, slipping past an old purple van and a blue Chevy. Within a minute it had turned out onto East 105th and disappeared into traffic.
“Was it as good as Jakey was saying?” Whit asked Dom as everyone returned to their normal conversations.
Dom grinned. “Better.”
Whit decided to see for himself. He figured if the woman went out, she had to come back some time, right? And he would
be there to park her car when she did.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one with this plan. Jakey was staying much later than he usually did. Every time a green car approached the doors to the Intercontinental, the valets jumped and looked around. Niko kept patting his pocket, without even knowing he was.
Five o’clock came and went. Check-in ended, and the flow of cars coming in decreased. Now only people who’d been out were bringing their cars to be parked. Until…
Whit was the first one to reach the car as it pulled up. Jakey shot him a furious glare, but there was nothing he could do about it now—it would be most unprofessional to quarrel in front of the customer.
Whit opened the door of the driver’s seat to let out the woman. He forced a smile at her.
“Ticket?” he asked.
She handed him an orange stub and walked away. Smirking at Jakey, Whit ducked into the car and pulled the door shut. He heard the window adjust itself back into its frame.
“Good way to end the evening, Wiseman,” he congratulated himself.
He put his foot to the pedal.
He underestimated the power behind the car, and it jumped forward, nearly hitting another valet.
“Whoa,” Whit said. Then he laughed. The BMW was not a horse, for Pete’s sake.
The car was a joy to drive. People brought all sorts of average cars to the hotel, but every now and then a real gem came along, and this was one of them. Whit marveled at how smoothly it handled, the way the slightest twitch of the wheel made it gracefully turn, the way it accelerated effortlessly with the merest tap on the pedal. He reclined the chair a little more and leaned back. For a moment he imagined himself to be rich, and privileged; this was his fine car, and he was out for a little jaunt in a simple but elegant symbol of his wealth. He imagined the other drivers on the road, throwing envious glances at this masterful man in his much-desired car. Whit was on top of the world.
He reached the quiet of the parking garage, and the illusion ended with as much ease as it had come. He was no brilliant, wealthy mongrel of high social standing, but a lowly parking valet.
A stupid valet, that’s what you are.
He drove to the uppermost level of the garage, just for the pure pleasure of swinging the BMW around a few more curves. It responded to him smartly, as though mocking him by showing off its excellence.
Enjoy me while you can, it seemed to say. You’ll never own me.
He parked it in an isolated spot, well away from other vehicles that could do it harm.
“You’re not that special, you know,” he said as he got out. “You’re just a car. Just another stupid fucking car.” He pressed the lock button on the key.
The car flashed as the locks clicked shut. It sat there smirking at him. You know lying to yourself is just making it worse, boy.
Whit glowered at it. “You don’t know squat,” he said. “You’re just a hunk of metal. You can’t even move without a driver. You need me.”
The car gleamed in total silence.
Whit suddenly felt stupid. What the hell was he doing, standing here talking to a car? There was work to be done.
He stuffed the keys the BMW in his pocket and strode away towards the stairs that led out of the garage. At the topmost step he stopped and looked back.
The BMW sat, still shining. He could tell it had been washed recently. Washed very, very well.
My bike could use a washing, he found himself thinking.
With a sigh, Whit turned and started down the steps, off to park the next car.
