City of Margins by William Boyle

Author:William Boyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2020-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

AVA BIFULCO

The AC in Ava’s office isn’t working. She’s made her rounds. Now she’s sitting at her desk with the window open, doodling on a pad, craving a cigarette. She picks up the phone and dials Flash Auto. She wants to check on the Nova. She hopes it’s nothing too serious. Michelle puts Frankie on.

“The bad news is,” Frankie says, “it’s the catalytic converter.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ava says, scratching the pencil against the pad until the point breaks, her jaw tight.

“I know, I know. These things happen. It’s not a new car. The good news is your boyfriend bought you the Olds Cutlass Ciera in our lot.”

Ava’s taken aback. “My boyfriend?”

“Donnie Parascandolo. He came by and said it was yours, paid for and everything. Lot of people have big problems with Donnie, but he’s okay in my book. A solid individual. Loyal.”

Ava really could use a cigarette now. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well, your admirer, then.”

“I don’t think I can accept a gift from him like that.”

“That’s between you two.”

“When’s my Nova gonna be ready?”

“Gotta order the part. Give me until tomorrow to get you an estimate, okay? The Olds you can pick up whenever.”

“We’ll see.”

“Okay there, Ava.”

Ava ends the call and sits back in her chair. She decides to take her smoke break. She lets Jada and Straleen know she’s stepping out for a sec and then goes to her usual dumpster spot and is about to light up before thinking twice about it. She heads for the boardwalk and finds an unoccupied bench and lights her cigarette. She really enjoys that first drag after such a hectic morning. These girls under her, they’re one worse than the next. None of them listen. Many of them are not polite, not to her and not to the residents. Others are just flakes. Rosemarie took off today for her grown son’s birthday, which Ava can’t wrap her head around.

She watches seagulls circling over the beach, hears their squawks. She watches the water, sees a ship out on the horizon that’s a dot. A small plane towing a banner passes over the beach. An ad for a radio station.

A guy sits down next to her. He’s wearing red shorts that are inappropriately short, mismatched sneakers, and a heavy jacket that’s blue and puffy. “Sweetheart,” he says. “Good morning.”

“I’m trying to enjoy my smoke here,” Ava says, thinking maybe she’s better off by the dumpster after all.

“Can I bum one?” he says.

“Christ. Fine.” Her pack is in her lap. She opens it and passes him a cigarette.

“Viceroys?” he says, smiling wide, showing gold teeth. “My old man smoked Viceroys.”

“I don’t want to be rude,” Ava says, “but this is my break and I’m trying to enjoy the quiet.”

“Sure thing. Got a light?”

She hands him her book of matches.

His first match gets snuffed out by the breeze. He doesn’t have any luck the second time either, the match sizzling between his fingers. He gets it the third time with a sigh of relief, stands, and hands her back the matches.

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