Shattered Perfection (3 page)

As we talked, I found that I genuinely liked Vance.  He was incredibly handsome, but beneath all that physical perfection was a rather naughty silliness, underscored further by an intelligent and thoughtful person who was completely unaware of his own attractiveness.

As our flight circled John F. Kennedy International Airport, Vance turned to me with a serious expression.  He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first, giving his face something of the appearance of a gasping fish.  He took my hand and for the first time since I met him, he looked slightly unsure of himself.

“Mimi, this was probably the best time I’ve had in a long time, and it was only a plane ride.  I can’t even imagine what a date with you would be like, but I’d really like to find out.  I know this is a vacation for you, and you probably have your itinerary all planned out, but do you think we could get together one night this week?  I really want to see you again, and I am positive it will kill me if I have to wait the two weeks before I am back in Los Angeles.”

The most incredible sense of relief washed through me.  In the back of my mind I had been dreading our landing, the uncertainty of any future time spent with Vance looming on the edges of my consciousness.  It didn’t matter what plans my friend, Laurel, had in store for me while I visited.  I would carve out time for this man on any day he wanted to see me.  She would just have to understand.

“I’d really like that too.  I’ll give you my information, and as soon as you know your schedule, give me a call and we’ll figure something out this week,” I said, still trying to play it cool, when all I really wanted to do was throw myself into his lap and squeal like an over excited fangirl.

Once the plane landed, we gathered our belongings and disembarked hand in hand.  We continued to tease each other playfully as we made our way to baggage claim, but I was aware of a new vibe humming between us, just below the surface.  I wondered if he felt it too, or if my imagination was running away with me.

The carousel was already turning as we approached and searched for our bags.  Vance found his quickly, a silver wheeled case, and a simple black garment bag with shoulder strap that had frankly seen better days.  His luggage was a study in opposites, from each side of the economic spectrum and I was puzzled by the dichotomy.  Before I could make a comment, I heard a feminine voice calling my name.

“Mimi, girl!  Over here!”  I looked over my shoulder to see Laurel hopping up and down and waving her arms as if she were trying to take flight.  Her auburn hair was swirling about her head, getting caught in her mouth and her chic but nerdy glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose as she made a spectacle of herself.  Standing all of five feet tall, she had huge green eyes, a pert little nose and a lithe figure.  She was wearing a conservative navy suit with a high collared white blouse, a short skirt and five inch spike heels.  She looked something between a sexy librarian and a wood sprite on meth.

I waved back at her letting her know I saw her, before she fell and broke an ankle or something.  She smiled and gave me the best jazz hands she could, considering she was holding her smart phone in one of them.  Assured she’d been clocked and identified, she shoved the phone in front of her face and began furiously texting someone.

I turned to Vance and laughed.  “That’s Laurel.”  I said, hitching a thumb over my left shoulder.  “She’s a little… ”

“Enthusiastic?”  He offered.

“Yes, that’s one way to describe her.  Out of her ever-loving mind would be another.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.  You’re planning to introduce me, right?” he asked.

I saw my suitcase come around on the carousel and attempted to heave it off, nearly knocking the passenger next to me down to the ground.  Vance stepped in, grabbing the handle and fluidly lifting it over the lip, and lowering it to the ground beside me.  He raised the telescopic handle and waved his hand toward it with a flourish.  I just rolled my eyes. 

“I totally had that, you know,” I huffed.  I wheeled the case around and headed towards Laurel with Vance and his stuff right behind me.  Laurel didn’t look up until I stood right in front of her, tapping my foot.  When she looked over my shoulder and saw Vance, her eyes immediately darted back to me.  She leaned in and whispered loudly, “You know you have a slice of mancake stuck to your backside, right?”

Nodding, I deadpanned, “When they asked me if I wanted nuts on the flight, I said yes.  This is what I got.”

Laurel checked Vance out shamelessly for a moment, then turned to me.  “Well, let’s go.  We’ve got stuff to do.”  She strutted off and I heard her mumbling to herself, “Man, I really gotta start flying American.”

We followed her out of baggage claim and onto the sidewalk.  Cars were moving aggressively down the street before us, cutting each other off and honking like crazy.  Insults and hand gestures were tossed out the windows at dizzying speeds and I wondered why anyone willingly chose to drive in this city.  Especially cab drivers. 

Vance and I pulled up alongside Laurel as we headed toward the taxi stand.  I nudged her in the arm to get her attention and pointed to Vance.  “This guy is actually a friend of mine.  While we established on the plane that he does have nuts, he also has a name.  This is Vance Ashcroft.  Vance, this is Laurel O’Malley, my old childhood friend.”  They quickly shook hands as I explained, “Vance and I are going to have dinner sometime this week, and no, you are not invited.  Hopefully it won’t interfere with any plans you have lined up for us.”

Laurel gave Vance another long look, as we queued up for the taxi.  She shrugged and said, “Fine with me.  Any day but Wednesday.  We’ve got tickets to see Wicked that day.  Any other day we can move our plans around, but under no circumstances can we move Wednesday and you will not be bailing out on me that day.  Capisce?”

“I got it, Dona O’Malley.  You got a ring I need to kiss now?”

“No, just had a little Al Pacino marathon with Stevie the other day.  Don’t mind me.  Things get a little sideways sometimes, Vance.  Don’t worry though, you’ll catch on quick staying quiet like you do.”

Vance just chuckled.  “Between the two of you, I don’t see where there’s much of an opportunity to do anything else.”

Laurel leaned in and patted him on his chest a few times.  By the look in her eye, we were about two and a half seconds from her copping a feel.  I growled softly enough that only she could hear, so she backed off, but not before purring “I do so love a man who catches on quickly,” then cackled unattractively as she approached the taxi that pulled up in front of us.

I turned to Vance while shaking my head.  “Please do not judge me by my friends.  I have kind of an eclectic group of people in my life.  You know how some people collect odd things?  Well I kind of do that with people.  Laurel is one of my prize oddities.”

“So, if I’m hearing you correctly… Laurel is your pig fetus in a jar?”

“Ew… no.  Well, maybe.”

“Fair enough.  So where are you headed?  Do you want to share a cab?” he asked hopefully.

“I think we’re heading to the East Village.  How about you?”

“Ah, well I’m headed to the Upper West Side.  I’ll catch the next cab.  I’ll give you a call once I’ve gotten everything nailed down and we’ll plan our dinner.  I’m really looking forward to it, Mimi.”  He leaned in and placed a soft kiss to my cheek just as Laurel started banging on the roof of the cab. 

“We ain’t got all night you two.  Let’s go, Mimi.  The party awaits!”  She shouted.

I wrapped my arms around Vance’s neck and pulled him in for a quick but tight hug. I couldn’t resist a little more contact than that polite cheek kiss.  He hugged me back, placing his hands at my waist and resting his cheek on top of my head.  He whispered to me, “Soon, little Mimi.  Very soon.”

We smiled goofily at each other as we parted, lingering for only a second more, then I jumped into the cab next to a squealing Laurel.  The driver lurched into the erratic and noisy traffic of the airport, leaving me feeling dazed and giddy at the same time.

I didn’t have to wait long to hear from Vance. That evening, while sitting in a little hole-in-the-wall bar with Laurel and some of her friends, I was startled to hear the lyrics of ‘Marry Me’ by Train coming from my purse. At first I was confused, but then scrambled for my purse while laughing myself silly. The phone went quiet as I dug frantically through gum wrappers, random papers, lipsticks and other clutter to find my phone. I excused myself and stepped outside to return the call. As soon as the voice on the other end answered, I didn’t give him another chance to speak.

“You proposed, again? By ring tone, this time? I’m starting to worry about you, Vance,” I said as I leaned back against the rough brick of the building outside.

He laughed softly. “I wanted to be sure you knew it was me calling.”

“How do you know I don’t have a bunch of other guys proposing to me right now?” I asked coyly.

“I don’t, but how many are so clever as to sneak a ring tone into your phone when giving you their contact information?” he teased.  “I’m sure by now, they have all called you at least once, and have their own boring ring tones assigned.”

I chuckled warmly as I scraped the toe of my boot against the sidewalk. “Yes, of course. You do realize though, that all of them waited until they had at least kissed me before popping the question for the first time.”

A strangled sound echoed across the line before I heard Vance clear his throat. “Well, there will be no more kissing.  Maybe a little more kissing. Okay, a lot more kissing, but not by any of those tools.  So… changing the subject now. Did you get settled in at Laurel’s?”

“Yes.  Her place is a little small, so I think she’ll be ready to have me out before the week is through, but for now she seems happy I’m here. We’re down at a small bar near her apartment having a few drinks with some of her friends right now. They’re nice and all, but New Yorkers and Angelenos are very different breeds of animal.”

“This is your first time in the city?  How did we not cover this on the plane?” he asked incredulously.

“We were busy telling each other our life stories, I guess. Yes, this is the first time I’ve been here. I’ve met one or two New Yorkers before, but I guess they had acclimated to the west coast by the time they’d crossed my path. I don’t quite know how to describe the difference.”

“New Yorkers are more intense. To them, everything they do or say is… important. They have places to go, things to do. L.A. style is different. Nothing matters quite as much, we’ll be somewhere when we get there, whenever that is.”

“Well, that’s because nothing is going to happen until we get there anyway!”  I replied haughtily.  Sighing, I continued, “They’re all right. They’re just different.  I don’t think they think very much of me, but they haven’t been rude or anything.”

“In that case, they love you.  New Yorkers are rude to everyone.  Even the people they like.” Another huff of laughter drifted over the line between us. I let my head fall back against the building and closed my eyes. I had never met anyone like Vance before.  There was just an easiness between us, a playfulness that I hadn’t experienced with anyone else.  I wanted to hear him laugh all the time.  I wanted to be the reason that he laughed.  It didn’t make any sense. Intellectually, I was aware that I had only known him a handful of hours, but I felt like my life had already changed somehow.

“Tomorrow is Monday,” I heard him say. “I have a meeting with our east coast partners in the morning.  After that, I’ll have a better idea of what my week will look like.  I will give you a call in the evening so we can make plans for dinner.  Will that work out for you?”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine. Laurel mentioned wanting to do some shopping, which for her means dragging me around all day long, in and out of every store within a five mile radius. I expect tomorrow night we’ll be ordering take out and staying in to recover. I’ll look forward to your call.”

“Until then, Mimi. Goodnight.” He whispered huskily.

“Goodnight, Vance.” I breathed back and ended the call.

Laurel found me still standing against the wall five minutes later, staring off into space, my phone in my hand. She had my purse looped over her shoulder and a knowing look on her face.

“So, I assume that was the hottie from the airport?” she asked, looking at me over her glasses.

I nodded. “The very same. He’s going to call tomorrow night, once he knows his schedule for the week so we can make plans.”

She leaned her shoulder against the wall next to me and crossed her arms across her chest. She studied my face for a moment before she spoke.  “He’s different isn’t he?  I know you just met him today, but there’s something about the way you look right now.  I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen this look on your face.”

Laurel was one of my oldest friends. We met in the fourth grade, after her family moved to my neighborhood when her father got transferred to the Los Angeles office by the production company he worked for.  She’d been trying to get back to New York ever since, finally getting there after we graduated high school when she was accepted to NYU. I hadn’t seen her but for her trips to see her parents for the holidays over the last six years, so this was the first time we were really going to have the opportunity to spend some quality time together, rather than maintaining our relationship through email, texts and Skype.  She was working as an assistant editor in a large publishing house, and had a bright future ahead of her.  I knew it wouldn’t be long before she was a wild success and our chances for visits like these would be much harder to come by, so I did feel a smidgeon guilty that I’d be stealing a night away to see a guy I’d only just met.    But, she was one of the few people who truly knew me. She could read me, my thoughts, my moods, just by looking at my face or studying my body language. Granted, I am a pretty open and expressive person, but she had an eerie knack for being able to pin me down with a mere glance. Like right then.

“I suppose the Dopey Dwarf impersonation gave me away this time?” I snarked at her.

“That and the spot of drool on your chin,” she said as she shifted her weight to her other foot, while keeping her shoulder against the wall. “So what’s his deal?  Does he have chocolate-flavored nipples?”

I laughed at her outrageousness and smacked her in the shoulder. “We were so busy talking on the flight, I wasn’t thinking about punching my Mile High Club Card, Whore-rel, but who knows.  Maybe by the end of the week, I’ll be able to answer that question.”  I said, giving her a sideways grin.

She jumped up and down, clapping and shouting, “Now who’s the whore?”  She grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the wall and handed me my bag.  “Let’s go back to the apartment, put on our pajamas and you can tell me all about your plan to inspect his nipples.”

Vance called again the following night as planned, much to my delight. We arranged to meet Thursday night, for a late dinner, since his meetings were scheduled to run until eight that night.  I worried that he might be too exhausted after such a long day, but he insisted. 

He went on to explain a little bit about the deal he was working on, that they were trying to acquire a failing business that had a world-wide presence.  Fair Trade laws prevented him from discussing any specifics, but apparently the business was well-known. There were lots of details to hammer out, and the deal had the ability to make or break his career.  I instantly shared my misgivings about meeting him, stressing I would be nothing more than a distraction when he should be completely focused on his work. 

“Mimi, I would be more distracted by not being able to see you, thinking about how you are going home in a few days and how I would have to wait another week to before I could spend time with you, than by taking time out and spending one evening in your company.  Okay?  Now relax and just agree to come with me.” 

Selfishly, I was easily swayed by his explanation and greedily agreed to the date.

We talked long into the night, the conversation eventually turning to how lonely we were as children. Growing up in single parent households with little money, we were both apartment dwellers.  There weren’t many children living in either of our buildings, and with no siblings, we didn’t have a lot of opportunities to socialize other than our school hours.  Things like video games and computers were impossible luxuries in both of our little families, so we both of naturally gravitated to the only cost-effective, available form of entertainment besides television—books. We were both amused to learn that we discovered the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mysteries at the library when we were in elementary school. While horribly dated, we both devoured each and every one.  We admitted that none of our peers fully appreciated our affinity for reading.  He shunned his classmates’ love of sports, while I turned away from such girlie activities as shopping, make-up and sleepovers, which only deepened our feelings of isolation.  We agreed that the characters in the stories we read became our friends and companions.  As we grew older, our tastes diverged.  His love for the classics emerged in high school when he developed an unlikely friendship with his eleventh grade Literature teacher.  I became something of a romance junkie around the same age, when I finally developed an interest in the opposite sex.  Rather than being interested in the boys in my class however, I swooned for the tall, brooding hero with broad shoulders, chiseled jaw and haunting secrets that made him feel unworthy of love.

“Are you still looking for the same qualities in a man?” Vance asked.  I could plainly hear the curiosity in his voice.

As usual, Vance made me laugh with the question. “I think I have come to realize that a man with haunting secrets is not going to be miraculously healed by the love of a good woman, no matter how great it sounds. Besides, who wants to go through all the angst it takes to get to the happily ever after after? I’ll save all those complications for my book boyfriends. I like my real life men to be a little more well-adjusted. I need someone who is emotionally stable, down to earth and forthright. Most of the men in the books I read don’t really fit that bill.”

I paused for a moment, screwing up my courage to reverse the question. “What about you? What do you look for in a woman?” I cringed as I not-so-subtly fished for information as to whether or not I might have the potential to be that woman. Sitting there in my pajamas, which consisted of a threadbare t-shirt and a baggy pair of men’s boxers, my hair piled on my head in a sloppy top knot, and my face scrubbed of any traces of make-up, I was grateful he couldn’t see me. I was sure the picture I made was the furthest image from his mind.

“That’s a question I’m still figuring out the answer to. There are so many things about women to discover, and I hear that there are many things I will never understand.” He chuckled. “But, I do I know what I don’t like in a woman. I don’t like phony. I don’t like gossipy. I don’t like materialistic and pretentious. I don’t like high maintenance, although I do like someone who takes some interest in her appearance. Yes, I like someone who bathes. Hopefully shaves her legs, and if I’m really lucky, a few other spots as well.”

I giggled. “Do you mean like her upper lip?”

“Most definitely. Unless she has superior grip strength like our dear friend Bertha at the airport. You’ll recall I was willing to overlook her surprising amount of facial hair in favor of finding out about her other charms. I’m a flexible man, after all.”  I can hear his smile through his words as we both grow quiet for a moment.

When he spoke again, his voice was earnest, almost intense.

“In all honesty, Mimi, I like someone who is unafraid of her ghosts. Somebody who is able to show me who she is openly and honestly and wants to see me the same way. Someone who can throw open the closet and be willing to let me inspect the skeletons will give me the greatest gift of all—her trust. Obviously, you don’t get to know someone like that overnight, or even over the course of a few months. That level of intimacy takes time, but I like someone who is fearless enough to want to be that vulnerable with someone, someday.

“I also like a woman with a sense of humor, who understands that no one is getting out of this life alive, so it’s best not to take it too seriously. At the same time, she knows when it’s time to get serious then devotes all her attention to whatever issue, project or problem requires it.

“I like a woman who has compassion for other people, especially if those people are less advantaged than she is. She knows that not everyone gets a fair shake, no matter how hard they try. Sometimes bad things happen, sometimes you depend on other people and they let you down, who knows. But she knows most people are worthy of a helping hand every now and then and at the very least, she doesn’t look down on those people. At best, she is willing to pitch in and help.”

“For someone who is still figuring out what he likes, you seem pretty specific.” I said quietly.

He laughed softly. “Well, I have figured out a thing or two in the last ten years of dating.” I heard him yawn on the other end of the line. “If she doesn’t have any of those qualities, I find that can be overlooked if she has a nice enough rack.”

“You pig!” I cried as I turned out the light and slid down under the blanket on the sofa. “Here I was all impressed by your speech, only to find out you’re just a misogynist after all!”

He cracked up, laughing loud and long. “You know I’m only kidding, Mimi. I’m really an ass man.”