Our Monday night routine is to go out to The Park for the Monday Undies amateur strip show, to visit with some acquaintances, go over to Jungle Red to browse, and then back to The Park to see if anyone is still there, then home. Not a lot of excitement, but since Sunday and Monday are my only nights off in a week, I look forward to Mondays.
Jungle Red is a little boutique in the Habana Inn complex about a block away from The Park. They sell porn, greeting cards, underwear, nick-knacks, candles, tee shirts, snacks and sex paraphernalia, among other things. We don't spend a lot of money, but we do have a few items around our house that were purchased there.
There used to be a woman working there, Valerie, who we looked forward to seeing every week. She was really a lot of fun to visit with. We each shared what was going on in our lives, and she always wanted to hear the latest dirty joke. But she and her partner moved away, and she was replaced by a fellow who didn't seem to want to visit with anyone. He sits behind the counter, rarely saying a word unless he's on the phone. Sometimes he disappears into the back room and we don't see him for most of our time in the shop. (We are usually there for about 15 or 20 minutes.) We say hi and bye on our way in and out. He may respond; he may not.
So it was a surprise tonight when he came out from behind the counter, took the magazine out of Gaby's hand and said, "Get out."
My initial thought was that he was closing the shop, so I said, "Is it that time already?"
As we stepped out the door, he said, "Didn't I tell you guys last week not to come back?"
I turned around and he was standing right behind me. I could feel my face coloring. "No...?" In fact, you've hardly said anything to us, even when we were buying something. As far as I can recall, this is the most you've said to us ever.
"If you guys come back, I'll have you arrested for trespassing." He walked away and sat down behind the counter. I was too stunned to move. I wanted to ask what this was all about, but I was too bewildered to even formulate the question in my mind. "Get away from my door!" he growled. So we left.
On the way back to The Park, we tried to figure out what the problem was. Was it because we didn't spend enough money in there? Did he mix us up with someone else? Was it because Gaby happened to glance up at the security cam? What? When we got to the bar, I looked around inside for someone to talk to, but Gaby said he just wanted to go home, so we left. Not a word was spoken in the car all the way home.
As we were getting ready for bed, I asked Gaby, "When did Valerie leave?"
"Are you still thinking about that?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Me too."
We discussed it a bit more, and then turned out the light. As tired as I was, I thought I might go right to sleep, but my mind was whirling with baffled and indignant thoughts. So I got up to write this post as a cathartic measure. Now let's see if I can sleep.
I miss Valerie.
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