Shattered Perfection (2 page)

His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at me.  “Don’t look so sad.  Nobody plays Trivial Pursuit anymore, anyway.”

I smiled at him as the line continued to move forward at a snail’s pace.  “So what do you do for these horrible people who send you to New York to do nothing but slave away for them while the city pulses with life and atmosphere?”

“I’m a suit, unfortunately.  I sold out and went to work for The Man after law school,” he said, looking a little ashamed.

“Oh wow, you’re an attorney?” I said, slightly surprised.

He winced a little, before saying “Please, don’t be too impressed.  It’s just a way to earn a living.”

“Oh I’m not impressed,” I said, then hurried to add, “I mean, I am.  It’s great. All that school, now you have a good job that pays well, and I’m sure you had to work hard to get it too, and oh shit, I’m really fucking this up.”  I stopped and took a deep breath while he looked at me with an uncomfortable expression on his face, clearly clocking the nearest escape route from the crazy gold digger in front of him.  “What I mean is, it’s just that we have something in common.  I’m a paralegal.”

“Oh hey, okay.”  He let out his own relieved sigh.  “What area of law do you work in?”

“I work for a large practice downtown that houses many specialties, but I work in the corporate department,” I said.  “Pretty boring stuff, but it pays the bills.”

He laughed and shook his head.  “Which firm?” he asked.

I looked at him skeptically and slowly said “Miller and Dickerson.  Why?”

He grinned and said, “Because I work for the competition, DuPont, Browerson and Ajax.  As a mergers and acquisitions specialist.”

I couldn’t help the wide grin that split my face.  “Your building is just two streets away from mine.  We literally work within a mile of each other, and yet we meet here?”

“Life can be random that way,” he said continuing to smile at me.

On impulse, and in what was probably the most awkward move in the history of meetings between young men and women in airports, I thrust my hand out in front of him.  “I’m Mimi Bishop.”

He gently took my smaller hand in his large one and held it firmly, enveloping it with his warmth.  He didn’t shake, just simply held it, while looking deep into my eyes.  “Hello, Mimi Bishop.  My name is Vance Ashcroft.  Will you marry me?”

Something electric happened between us for a split second. In that moment, my vision tunneled, the cacophony of the airport faded into the distance and the world just stopped.  In an instant it was over, and we both dissolved into a massive fit of laughter.  It wasn’t the nervous tittering of a joke gone awry, but great big whoops and belly laughs.

“What the hell was that, Vance?  Do you use that line often?”  I said as I wiped a stray tear from my eye.

“I always wanted to, but it’s the first time I ever felt I had the right audience,” he said grinning at me like a fool.

We approached the security scanners and I hefted my carry-on from the floor to put it into one of the security tubs.  Vance reached in front of me and placed it on the conveyor belt, where I tossed my purse, as well.  Slipping out of my shoes, I told him, “Well, it was brilliant.  Best laugh I’ve had in a long time.”  I placed my tennies in another tub and moved through the security scanner toward the waiting TSA agent for my pat-down and highly impersonal groping.  I was almost looking forward to it since I hadn’t seen any action in months, except the TSA agent was a large and formidable looking woman.

I was putting my shoes back on at the end of the conveyor when Vance joined me.

“I really think someone should buy me dinner after that man-handling.”  He said as we both reached for our bags.

“Did you ask her to marry you, too?  She might have gone a bit easier on you if you had.  You know, maybe skipped the whole cavity search in public,” I said with a sweet smile.

He gasped.  “Mimi!  I am saving myself for you.  You are the only one for me.  Although…,” he put a finger to his lips in thought.  “Bertha back there might be able to show me the merits of having over-developed grip strength.  That could prove interesting for some private time in a secluded parking space.”

I’m sure I looked at him like his hair was on fire.

With the smuggest smirk I have ever seen, he put a finger to my chin and slowly pushed my mouth closed.  “I think I may have done the impossible and rendered you speechless.  Tell me, was it what I said that shocked you, or the image it put in your brain?”

I groaned and pressed my fingertips to my eyelids as we turned and walked from the security checkpoint. 

“Did you really have to say that?  I wasn’t picturing it, thank you very much, but now I have the lovely image of “Bertha” with her manly hand, scraggly, half-bitten fingernails and all, wrapped around your… ”

“Enough!  No more! No more!  You win.  I hadn’t pictured it either, but now I am as traumatized as you,” he said as he shook his head in distress.  “My own humor turned against me like a weapon.  Why are you a paralegal?  You should be a lawyer.  You would be lethal in a courtroom.”  He looked at me with a sideways grin and bumped my shoulder with his, as we walked along the concourse.

I grinned up at him, enjoying how easy things had become between us, how my nervousness had vanished. Vance may have been a pretty face, but he sure didn’t act like it.  Too bad our time was coming to an end.  I checked my watch.  Sure enough, my flight was scheduled to leave in twenty short minutes.

“I’m flying out of here on American.  How about you?”  I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back.  Given that we were at the airport at the same time, with the same destination and walking in the same direction through the airport, the odds were better than average that we were on the same flight.  While it was highly unlikely we’d be seated together, we would at least have the next twenty minutes.

“Yes, Flight 330.  Same as you?”

I nodded, beaming brightly at him.

“Score!”  He exclaimed, pumping his fist exaggeratedly.

I rolled my eyes.  “You really are a dork, you know that?”

“Now that hurt, Mimi.  I’m just a man who happens to show enthusiasm when things go his way.  I am happy that I get to continue with the pleasure of your company.”  He dropped his voice to a sinful growl.  “Would you deny me my pleasure?” he asked arching that brow at me again. 

I shoved him away from me by the shoulder playfully.  “Pervert and a dork.”

He grabbed my hand as we reached our gate and pulled me to a couple empty seats.  We fell into them and looked at each other for a moment.  Slowly, he lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the backs of my fingers and whispered, “Yeah, but I’m thinking that’s just your type.”

I was stunned.  Sure we had been having a very fun and friendly conversation to this point, perhaps even mildly flirtatious, what with the whole faux marriage proposal and all, but this?  This was a thunderbolt.  No, a starburst.  Fuck that, a freaking rocket ship to Mars.  I opened my mouth to say something, not that I would have been able to come up with anything at the moment, clever or otherwise, but the attendant called for pre-boarding for our flight.  Puffing out a sigh, Vance stood and shouldered his carry-on, while giving me a slightly embarrassed look. 

“I’m in first class,” he said with a grimace.  So much for those twenty minutes.

An inexplicable tightening in my chest made it hard to speak, but I managed a surprisingly bright tone of voice.  “Well, it’s been quite an experience meeting you, Mr. Ashcroft.  Don’t let the slave drivers work you too hard over the next two weeks.”

He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but simply put out his hand.  I took it as he said, “It was an absolute honor, Miss Bishop.”  Then I watched quietly as he turned and walked toward the gate.  Resting my chin in my hand, I kept watching as he disappeared through the doorway to the gangway, and continued staring after he was long gone, until they called my seating section.

As I embarked, I scanned the first class area hoping to catch another glimpse of him, even if it was just to see another one of his smiles.  I didn’t see him sitting in any of the seats, though.  It seemed curious, but I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it as the stream of people behind me propelled me forward.

I made my way to my seat, near the back of the plane.  After cramming my carry-on in the already stuffed overhead compartment, I stumbled over the rotund, gentleman with the six-hair comb-over sitting in the aisle seat to reach mine next to the window.  Evidently, common courtesy had deserted this fellow in the face of his fear of flying.  At least, I assumed that was the cause of his shaking hands and profuse sweating.  I tried to shrink against the window as he mopped his face with a handkerchief that had seen better days, making myself as small a target as possible, just in case any stray bullets of sweat came flying my way.  I pulled the flight safety card out of the pocket of the seatback in front of me and studied it closely it for lack of anything better to do.

“Excuse me, sir,” a familiar voice carried over to my seat.  “How would you like to sit in first class for this flight?” 

I looked up to see Vance looking expectantly at my seat mate, who appeared somewhat startled and confused.

“I’m offering to switch seats with you, sir.  My seat is 3B, up in the first class section.”  Vance spoke slowly, as if the man were learning impaired.  “I would like to change seats with you and sit here, with the lovely lady next to you, while you enjoy the fine service and leg room first class has to offer.”  He pressed his hands together in front of him, bowing slightly.  I just refrained from rolling my eyes.

The nervous flyer struggled out of his seat, his shirt buttons straining mightily at his waist, and popped open the overhead compartment without a word.  He grabbed a gray laptop bag out of it and hustled down the aisle, presumably before Vance could change his mind.

Vance stowed his gear and closed the compartment before flopping in the seat beside me.  He leaned his head back against the seat and turned toward me with a wide grin.

I smiled back innocently and asked, “Are you sure you want to sit there?  It might be a little… moist.”

The horrified look on his face was priceless and my resulting laugh was loud and wild, provoking many dirty looks in my direction.  Vance lifted his hands from the armrests, pretending to shake them dry.  He looked around questioningly before calling out, “Does anyone happen to have any hand sanitizer?”

I was reduced to another laughing fit as the elderly woman across the aisle produced a small, travel size bottle from her handbag and offered it to him with a warm, grandmotherly smile.  Vance squirted a small amount into his palm and handed the bottle back with a wink and what I was coming to realize was his signature charming grin.

  As he rubbed his hands together, he turned to me and gave me a wicked smile of my very own.  “That was not very nice, Mimi.”

“Yes, it was.  I was trying to warn you of the hazards of occupying the same seat as Captain Von Sweatyballs.”

Vance groaned painfully and squirmed uncomfortably in the seat.  “Now, how do you know that his balls were, in fact, sweaty?”

“Well, not having actually inspected them personally, I can’t say with a one hundred percent degree of certainty, but I think it is fair to say that in all likelihood, they were indeed sweaty.”

His face lit up with barely concealed hope.  “Aha!  You concede that you could not possibly be, without a doubt, certain.  It is possible they could have been as dry as the Sahara.” 

“Let me ask you this, since you have balls, I presume.”  He nodded, and motioned with his hand for me to continue.

“Have you ever, at any time, had your entire body be covered in a sheen of perspiration, yet had your balls remain as dry as the Sahara?”

He leaned back in the seat, his fingers threaded over his abdomen, and a thoughtful look on his face, as if contemplating numerous sweaty occasions, and the condition of his private parts. “You know, Mimi, a bit of antiperspirant works wonders under such conditions.”

Once again, my mouth dropped open.  “Do you put antiperspirant on your balls, Vance?”

“Now, that’s a very personal question, Mimi.  We’ve only just met.  You can hardly expect me to tell you something like that.”

I sputtered, “You’re the one who brought it up!  You can’t back out now!”

“Actually, I think you’re the one who instigated this whole gonadal conversation.”

“Quit dodging the question.  I’m going to assume you must, or you wouldn’t have suggested it.” 

“Even men like to have that ‘fresh’ feeling every now and then.”  He stopped and looked in the direction the unfortunate sweaty man had lumbered off toward.  “Well, most men.”

We quieted down as the airline attendant began his safety speech. Shortly thereafter we were in the air and sipping flat soda from little plastic cups.  We managed to get our silliness under control and spent the entire six hours lost in conversation, covering a wide variety of subjects.  It turned out we had a great deal in common.  We both enjoyed the outdoors, preferring to spend a day hiking and biking than even an hour in the gym.  We liked to read, though our tastes in literature were very different.  He was a fan of the classics, while I favored contemporary works.  We learned we were both liberal in our politics, with strong feelings about social issues since we each grew up under less than ideal economic circumstances, he with his single mother and never knowing his dad.  My own father died when I was very small, so I knew the hardships of living in a single income household, and had felt the absence of a father figure too.  Neither of us had siblings.  The more we talked, the longer the list grew.  Big things, little things, we ticked so many of the same boxes it was eerie.