The Beach Club Read Online Free PDF

his socks. He stared at Mack’s bare ankle, then tore his eyes away. “An agent for actors.”
    “Do you act?”
    “I’m not very good. I modeled a little in college, though. I was Mr. November in the college calendar.” Mr. November: It was a good, handsome picture—Jem in jeans, sitting on a split-rail fence in historic Williamsburg. But now Mr. November sounded ridiculous. Things that seemed okay in college didn’t always translate to the real world. Jem should have kept his mouth shut. From now on, he was just going to answer the questions.
    Mack pinched his lips together in a line, as if he were trying not to laugh. “What about a place to live?”
    “I have a place to live,” Jem said. Jem rented a room through a college friend’s aunt who had a house on North Liberty Street. The room was fine, but it didn’t have kitchen privileges. When Jem asked the friend’s aunt how he was going to eat, she said, “I usually rent to people in the restaurant business.” Jem’s father owned a bar in Falls Church—an English-style pub called the Locked Tower; if he’d wanted to wait tables, he would have stayed at home. “The room’s decent,” he told Mack. “But it doesn’t have a kitchen. And I need to save money to go to California.” He straightened his spine. “I’m on the lookout for free food in a big way. What I really need is a girlfriend who likes to cook.”
    “My girlfriend likes to cook,” Mack said. “And look what it got me.” He patted his gut. “Love handles.”
    Jem smiled politely.
    “Are you handy?” Mack asked. “Can you change a lightbulb? Set an alarm clock? Do you know what a circuit breaker is? If a guest calls the front desk and says his electricity is out, could you fix it?”
    “Probably. I can change a lightbulb and set an alarm clock. I know my way around a fuse box.”
    “You’d be surprised how many people can’t set an alarm clock,” Mack said.
    “Well, I can,” Jem said. “Like I said, I just graduated from college.” He laughed. Mack scribbled down something else.
    “Hopefully, you’ll remember to set your own,” Mack said. “The day bellman needs to be here at eight A.M. ”
    “Do I have the job, then?”
    “I need someone for three day shifts and three night shifts, one day off. There isn’t a lot of sitting around. If you’re not stripping the rooms for the chambermaids or helping a guest with bags, then you’ll be doing projects, assigned by me. Small maintenance jobs, watering the plants, cleaning the exercise room, sweeping up shells in the parking lot. And part of the deal is helping to open the place, from now until Memorial Day. That’s eight to four every day but Sunday. I can offer you ten bucks an hour, plus tips. Do you want the job?”
    Tips. A world-class beach resort. Contacts waiting to be made. Jem could have kissed the guy. “Yes, I do. Absolutely.”
    Mack offered his hand and Jem tried for a nice, firm handshake that showed he meant what he said.
    “You have the job,” Mack said. “Welcome to the Nantucket Beach Club and Hotel. You’ll work with a bellman named Vance Robbins who’s been here twelve years, just as long as I have. Vance will show you the ropes. Come tomorrow at eight, ready to shovel.”
    Jem jumped to his feet. “I’ll be here,” he said. He probably sounded way too eager, but it was exciting—getting a job, spending the summer on this island. He couldn’t wait to write to his parents and tell them. But first he had to find a grocery store and buy some bread and a jar of peanut butter and hope it didn’t draw ants.
    Mack led him to the front porch of the lobby. “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Mack said.
    “Do you own this place?” Jem asked. A seagull dropped a shell onto the asphalt of the parking lot and then swooped down to eat whatever was inside.
    “No,” Mack said. He tugged at his vest defensively.
    “Oh,” Jem said. “Well, it is gorgeous.”
    “Fucking gorgeous,” Mack said.