Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
What had I gotten us into? If this guy's sheets weren't perfectly pressed, I was pretty
sure Michael and I would end up in cement shoes at the bottom of the Hudson. But then
again, did I mention that we needed the business?
Howard called me every day for the next couple of weeks. Some days he was grouchy,
some days he was downright charming. You never knew which Howard you were going to
get when you answered the phone.
In some ways I preferred Nasty Howard. At least you knew where you stood with him.
Nice Howard was unsettlingly pleasant, as if he were doing an impersonation of a kind,
caring person and—having no actual experience of such a creature—wasn't quite sure how
far to take the performance.
Unfailingly, Nice Howard overplayed his hand, though hints of Nasty Howard crept in
even when he was trying his hardest to be good.
“Thank you so much for letting us stay in your beautiful house,” he said one day.
I almost laughed at his unctuousness.
“You're welcome, but you haven't even seen it yet.”
“You mean it's not beautiful?”
“Well, we think it is.”
“How about other people? What do they say?”
“We've gotten great reviews.”
“Did you write them yourselves?”
“No, Howard, we wouldn't do that. Our guests wrote them. They genuinely liked the
house.”
“Of course they did. It's beautiful.”
“It certainly is.”
Jane called us the day Howard and his girlfriend arrived.
“He's mean to his wife.”
“She's not his wife, just his girlfriend.”
“Good for her. He's a jerk.”
“What happened?”
“She asked if you can make bread from breadfruit. He told her she was an idiot.”
“Charming. What do they look like?”
I always asked this when I got the chance. I couldn't help wanting to know what the
people who slept in our bed looked like.
“He's short, chubby and balding, she's Asian and pretty, with long fingernails.”
“Is he nice to you?”
“Yes, almost annoyingly so. It's such a contrast to the way he treats his girlfriend.”
“He's a little schizoid.”
“You think? By the way, what do you know about this guy's background?”
“I think he might be Mafia.”
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