Notes. From the Upper West Side. A novel by Dan Wrench. Chapter 59.
The Park Proclivities. Jessica wasn't the only person in my life who wondered why Park was helping me out. Kurt Libby was at least as curious as Jessica and way more dramatic. And he was kind of a dick about it too.
Let me get this what they call straight. He said, like he was rehearsing to play the district attorney, you take out your deck, but deck you own, and you use it to plow that scammy. A check. You rest your marriage to nail.
Then Park takes out his wallet and covers the room for you, and you don't think he's expecting anything in exchange. He didn't pay for the room curd. I gave him the cash and he let me use his gold card, plus he alabied me. So your wife actually asked him where you were, and he lied for you.
Not yet, but if she does he'll alabine me. So he said he'll alabine you, but he never actually provided the service. And if he does, you'll think he's just being your old chump, nothing in it for him. Just good ol' altruistic Park.
I'm pretty sure he'll alabine me. Yeah, sure Park's kind of a preposterous character and occasional shmuck, but I have to say he's usually pretty good about keeping his promises and without demanding anything in return. It's a matter of principle with him. Just ask the doll.
Oh, you know, Carol, Carol Wieser. I thought she hated Park. She does, but she still vouches for him when it comes to keeping promises. Well, secrets, keeping secrets.
If Park promises to keep a secret for you, he always does. But the whole time I was saying this, I was remembering how an alabine morning Park didn't pick up his phone when I called him from the Starbucks at Worldwide Plaza. I mean, I really wanted to believe he took seriously this whole giving me an alabine business, and maybe he would've picked up if he'd seen Junior's name on the call right, but I had this gut feeling he just slept through the phone ringing. And if he had slept through the phone ringing, when he and I were supposed to be wide awake and sweating over the post-production of little round Jewish hat, and if it had been Junior calling instead of me?
Disaster. Well, potential disaster. Yeah, potential. So you're saying he handed you a plastic cart, Libby said, that didn't cost him anything.
Now you owe him a favor. Now you're an am. Well, handing me the card wasn't nothing. I got a great room for cheap because of this gold club he belongs to.
But it didn't cost him anything. Libby said, see what I mean? He's got this card lying around. It's not like he was planning to use it himself, but he let you have it.
Instead, it cost him zero. And now you owe him. Yeah, Libby really hated parp. And look, I knew it couldn't hurt to be on my guard against parp, but I really wasn't worried.
You might have some hidden motive that I hadn't already thought about and sweated over. Remember when I met parp at the city diner that night a few days before the inaugural ball so I could confront him about why he was helping me? Well, back then I was pretty suspicious and even a little peeve, then his explanation still satisfied me. Why should I start worrying about it now?
Besides, I figured I had a superior knowledge of the parp proclivities, proclivities that rose like steam from the canals, twisting through his cerebellum, proclivities known collectively and to the laymen as parp nuttiness. Like I said once before I've known parps since before there was an MTV, he loved the thought of kicking the props out from under some institution we all bought into just because our parents did. It warmed him up like a red state Christmas. They knew that for a fact.
Back last March, where maybe it was early April already when Libby and I were having our conversation, we were in the lounge of the Commodore hotel where he works as a bartender. This lounge? It's designed and managed by the same company that designed and manages the Irish tavern where I work and they look a lot alike except when you step out of the bar, the tavern you're stepping onto the 50th Street sidewalk but when you step out of the lounge of the Commodore, you're stepping on a carpet in the hallway that leads to other parts of the hotel. You know what, exactly and I mean exactly reminds me of Libby.
Let me guess. It reminds you of the time parp let you bang Desiree Scars' guard in his apartment for six months. Whoa, he said, holy shit, how the effing fuck did you know I was going to say that? Because you always say that.
It's your go-to story on why parp is a sociopath, you know, for trying to break up your marriage? Plus, I think you've told me that story at least once every couple weeks since it happened two years ago. I feel like I was there with you for the whole six months except I never got the hump Desiree. I know about the smell of garlic and cannabis coming from Parp's neighbor's apartment.
I know that Desiree had an issue with you seeing your ass all the lights were on. I know about the pillow stacked on Parp's bed. I'm thinking I'm moving to LA just so I can hang with people who never heard about you in Parp and Desiree. Holy shit, are you saying a lot of people know about that?
You know my thing with Desiree? Because dude, it would not be good if it got back to kindness. I don't know, I was exaggerating for effect. There are plenty of people I can hang with in New York who don't know about your affair.
I wouldn't call it an affair, man. Well, whatever you would call it, there aren't that many people who know about it. I don't think. But look, if you're so worried about it getting back to Candice, then maybe you shouldn't talk about it so much.
I didn't say I talked about it a lot, man. Okay, maybe I told you a few times on the course of Parp's house. You think I can trust Parp, right? That's his rep.
He seemed relieved. Then he laughed. Okay, I guess that's one of his reps. Somewhere in there, the two of us drifted all the way out of the hotel and when we got outside, we lit up.
There were some other people out there smoking too and we were all standing beneath this awning to the side of the big circular drive that leads from 6th Avenue to the hotel entrance. Yeah, well, when Parp asked me for that girl's number of that Christmas, like I owed it to him because he let me meet Desiree in his apartment, I pushed back. I let him know. I didn't know him, Shinoa.
But you sort of did, didn't you, Kurt? I mean, letting you meet a chicken in his apartment a night or two a week for months. That's substantial. You didn't think you owed him anything for that?
You know how they say fuck that sometimes? You know, fuck that. He asked, okay, well, me own Parp, fuck that. He said he was doing it for liberation or something.
Freida. Alright, I thought that he gets his word. Then hey, man, liberation at us. So he got to feel like a revolutionary and I got to throw Desiree the joy toy on his 99th pillows.
It was a trade. Pretty unequal though, wouldn't you say? I mean, with me, all he did was let me use his gold card. With you, he had to go find shit to tonight.
So we, okay, so I liked the guy. He said he was exasperated. He stomped out his cigarette, but like it was an angry cockroach looking for food on his face. I was what's the word?
Despensed. Um, the supposed to do him a favor back then. I just wasn't ready to have him dictate what the favor was. You know, you know, yeah, yeah, I get it.
I said, I didn't know the deal was paying me back now or I'll go around telling people you and your wife remind me of Jude the obscure, he raged. With cats instead of kids, I get get a little shit. All I'm saying is you need to watch out. Now he thinks he's free to demand shut from you.
Just wait, you'll say. We went back into the lounge and he poured us something. I think it was club soda and lime. At first, I was hoping for free alcohol, but I was good with keeping a clear head that night.
Plus, lime and club soda can be kind of refreshing. What do you think pops can ask you for? He grinned. Now you're like the undertaker and the godfather.
Then he pulled out his brand-o impression. One day on that day, may not have come. I will call upon you to do a service for me. He laughed.
I giggle cackled. So what do you think he's going to demand? He asked again. I looked through the lounge doorway to the lobby.
There was this fountain out there with this Greek guy's head or maybe it was a Roman guy's head carved into the marble at the top. And all I could think was, I was pretty sure Parp already had what he wanted. All he wants is to be a storybook hero, I said. Notes from the Upper West Side is a work of fiction.
The people depicted in this work do not exist. Notes from the Upper West Side, copyright 2013 to 2018 by Dan Wrench.