Fairwil Sneak Peek: Boring Face

     When we again reached The Wilfair and snuck inside, I summoned the elevator. My newest hire joined me, re-rolling his left sleeve, then his right. It was something to do, I suspected, while we waited and conversation flagged.       
     Gomery gestured at the sign at the far end of the elevator bank, where a polite-but-pointed placard, a placard standard to all hotels, stood. “Hotel guests only upstairs,” he read aloud, then turned to me. “But Monty and I went to your bedroom the other day.”
     “With me.” I peered at the small print on the sign bottom. “Non-guests must accompany guests,” I enunciated, a business-like stiffness filling my voice.      
     “Ohhh, Fair’s official voice is official,” Gomery smiled.
      “What’s your policy at the motel?”
     “Our policy? Survive,” he laughed. “Or stay open, to be less dramatic. We don’t have many policies beyond that, save the pool rule. Motel guests only.” He chuckled again. “This is our most boring conversation all week.”
     “Wait until you work for me. I can be so much more boring.” I let my face go slack, then stuck my tongue out to one side.
     “What’s that?” he asked.
     “My boring face.” I made the face again, only harder. My eyes rolled back and my nostrils flared and my tongue lolled with extra oomph.
     His eyebrows knit and his forehead pi sign deepened. “That is the wackiest boring face I’ve ever seen. And what’s with the nostrils?”
     “The nostrils clinch it!” I protested, flaring harder.
     “Nope.” He crossed his arms.
     “What’s yours, then?”
     Gomery took a lung-expanding breath, softened his shoulders, and attempted to let all emotion drain from his face. But his mouth twitched and his eyes practically clutched their sides in sheer mirth.
     Dang it. Even his boring was thrilling.
     “You win the boring-off.” I slow-clapped. “I’ll give you the special sparkly boring trophy, but only under protest.”
     “It’s good to be boring near elevators.” The man in the glasses was all false solemnity. “Because of the movie make-out potential.”
     “Gah,” I gah’d. “Right? Never. That will never, ever be me. I can’t have my cool person license revoked.”
     Gomery held up five fingers and ticked them off as he counted. “Let’s see. There’s your smart person license, a nice person license, a license for helping others, an interesting person license, and--” he reached his thumb and thought “--whatever license one needs to impersonate mastodons and talk about ghosts having muscles and other random flights of weirdness. Flared nostrils signifying boringness.” He frowned. “Nope. No cool person license on that list.”
     “You’ve got a whole bunch more fingers still!” I pointed at his other hand. “Five more, at least! My cool person license must be on your other hand. Hold on. Is the thumb actually a finger, like, scientifically? Or is the thumb, being finger-like but so much better because of its, um, prehensile grip, the other fingers’ god?”
     “Is the thumb the god of fingers?” Gomery’s dimples grew longer. “Ms. Finley. I have no words sometimes. That definitely bests ‘do ghosts have muscles,’ though.” He raised his other hand and spread his fingers wide. The callouses at the base of his palm caught my notice. It was clear that repairing the boiler back at The Redwoodian was about the thousandth thing he'd fixed in his life. “Fair? Come back.”
     “Sorry, what?”
      He spread the fingers of his hand. “So these are five Fair licenses that are, as of now, unknown to me. But I hope to find out what they are.”
     “Well. Well. A cool person license just may among them!” I huffed, but it was a hollow huff.
     “We both know it isn’t,” he twinkled. “Let’s be honest.”
     “Well. Well. Wait until you learn what this license is --” I touched my index fingertip to his index fingertip “and this one--” I touched his ring fingertip “and this one--” I lightly touched his middle fingertip, keeping my hold for an extra beat before dropping my hand.
     “‘Wait, you say?” He scratched his chin. “Wait. Waiting. To wait. Hmm. That's a concept completely unknown to me.”
     It was just after dawn, meaning that the hotel's front desk wasn't fully staffed yet. But the one or two employees overseeing the lobby had to wonder what the sudden peals of laughter emitting from the elevator bank could possibly be about.
     Whoever heard the guffaws sounding from the elevators had to believe it was over something the laughers in question found tear-wipingly, gut-bustingly, let-me-catch-my-breathly hilarious.
     And the eavesdroppers would be 100% correct.
     “Shhhh,” I whispered, wiping the corner of my eye with my thumb. I paused, then held it up. "The god of fing... Fing... Fingers!” The four words sent me over the edge, and I promptly doubled over, gasping, gaggy, and loopy of brain.
     “Shhhh,” he admonished. “You're going to get in trouble with the manager of this place.”
     “Hope so. Getting in trouble with myself has been the best thing that's ever happened.”
     “Just wait until you smash The Wilfair's mint dish. You are going to be in so much trouble with you.”
     “Exciting!” I again flared my nostrils and let my eyes go weird. “My excited face!”
     Then the world's slowest elevator finally arrived.

6 comments:

Amanda W said...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rosemary said...

I came here to leave a string of exclamation points but Amanda beat me to it.

So instead, I'll flare my nostrils and let my eyes go weird.

******EXCITED FACE******

Caitlin #2 said...

YESSSSSSSSSS :D

(that's my excited face)

:D

do dah said...

IS the thumb the god of fingers? now i'm going to have to sit down and contemplate that. but i need to accompany it with some sort of appropriate contemplation ritual. or... cheese?

Ulrika K said...

Since the "string of exclamation points"-post has already been claimed (twice) I'm just gonna say that the sentence "I lightly touched his middle fingertip, keeping my hold for an extra beat before dropping my hand." made me squeal so loudly I'm pretty sure I woke up my neighbor (there was a sudden outburst of swearing and complaining next door) but I just don't care :) I'm so excited for Fairwil!!!

Wilfair Book said...

Thanks, ladies! And Ulrika, that's the moment I alight upon, too, as a center of the snippet. Cheers and hugs across the world!

do dah: The thumb is *definitely* the god of the fingers. The thumb does EVERYTHING!

 
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