Fighting Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 2) (12 page)

     “Don’t call me that!” I exclaimed, but he had already dropped the call.  Annoying man.

     I awoke on Saturday morning with a happy feeling of anticipation.  I wondered what sort of plans James had in mind.  I spent time going through my closet for the appropriate clothing he recommended.  Casual attire could encompass a wide variety of options from jeans and a tank top to leggings and an oversized t-shirt.  In the end, I selected a pair of jeans that were soft and faded, along with a light green tank top with spaghetti straps.  For the evening, I picked a cream lace, form-fitting dress with a tan underlay.  It had capped sleeves, and the hem hit just below the knee.  It was an elegant dress as I assumed we were going somewhere nice since he’d mentioned the red dress.  I selected a pair of cream heels to go with it along with pearl earrings and necklace.  I packed the evening wear into a small carry-on suitcase rather than a duffel since I didn’t want the dress to get wrinkled.  I laughed when I thought of what he might think when he saw it.  He’d probably assume I’d brought enough clothes for several days.

     I wondered what to do with my hair that would easily transition from day to evening.  I finally decided to wear it in a ponytail that I could quickly coil into a bun at the nape of my neck.  With that also settled, I packed all of the essentials, hairbrush, pins, make-up, etc. into the case and zipped it up.  I left it sitting by the door so I could quickly grab it on my way out.

     At noon exactly my doorbell rang.  I opened the door to find James standing there in a black tank top with athletic pants and flip flops.  I immediately surmised that casual to James meant super-duper casual.  I immediately rethought my jeans and sandals.

     “Come on inside.  Looking at you makes me think I might be a little bit overdressed,” I remarked.

     James walked inside and gave me a brief hug.  “You look great, but yeah, you might want to get a little more comfortable than that.”

     Telling him to make himself at home, I ran off to the bedroom and put on a pair of yoga pants and my own pair of flip flops.  One more quick inspection in the mirror told me I looked decent enough for whatever he might have in mind, and I returned to the living room where he was sitting flipping through channels on my TV.

    He looked up at me with a dazzling smile.  “That’s better.  I think you’d have gotten too hot in the jeans.  You ready to hit the road now?”

     “Ready as I’ll ever be without knowing where we’re going.”  I said, hoping I wasn’t getting myself into something I couldn’t handle.  I had already learned with James there was no telling what he was up to.

     After I locked up the house, we ambled to his car, if you could call it that.  It was actually a    beat-up, open topped, rusty and primered vintage Ford Bronco.  I wondered how he had ever made it to Los Angeles from Lemoore in this death trap.

     I stopped dead in my tracks.  “Are you sure this thing is roadworthy?”

     “Of course she is,” he responded looking at me with a shocked expression.  “Don’t tell me you have a problem with Nelly, here.”

     “Nelly?  You named your car and you named it Nelly?”

     “Yes, I did.  You’ve heard the expression ‘Whoa, Nelly’, haven’t you?  This baby goes pretty fast.”

     “I think it’s more likely that people see it and say ‘Whoa! Nelly!”  I said, looking at him skeptically.

     “Just get in the truck, brat,” he replied, giving me a swat on the butt.

     We set out west down Santa Monica Boulevard.  I was happy we weren’t taking the freeway wherever we were going.  I loved my city and never got tired of driving through it and looking at the people who populated it.  There was so much diversity and flavor in Los Angeles, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.  I snorted internally thinking of my short-lived plan to move to Arizona a couple years ago.  In my desperation to escape my memories of my life with Vance, I was going to leave it all behind and start somewhere new.  Thank God Laurel had talked me out of it when no one else could.

     We got closer and closer to the ocean, and I wondered if we were going to the beach.  He navigated us to the Third Street Promenade and eventually pulled into a parking structure.  He turned to me with a huge grin and said, “Get ready to bring out your inner teenager, Mimi.  This is going to be fun.”

     He led me by the hand down Third Street to Ocean Avenue and then finally to the Santa Monica Pier.  “We have some time to kill before the surprise, about an hour.  Follow me.”  He dragged me over to the historic carousel for a ride.  He took a horse behind mine and spent the entire time shouting that he was gaining on me and going to catch me.  Initially I rolled my eyes, but his infectious enthusiasm got the better of me, and I found myself leaning forward on my horse as if I were urging it on at a full gallop, screaming, “Never!  You’ll never take me alive!”  A few people may have looked at us like we were crazy fools.  I suppose that wasn’t too far from the truth, at least as far as James was concerned.

     After our ride, we went over to the vintage soda fountain inside.  I suddenly wanted an ice cream sundae. They all looked so good, but James assured me that I wanted to wait until after his surprise.  Instead, I got a cappuccino ice cream soda.  He got a peppermint candy ice cream soda.

     While we sat at the counter sipping our drinks, I did my best to try to get him to reveal his surprise.  “You know, James, I’m a Los Angeles native.  I have been to the pier a thousand times or more.  I can’t possibly imagine what you think you can show me that I haven’t seen before.”

     “Why Mimi, I thought you realized by now that I’m going to show you my idea of a good time,” he said with a devilish gleam in his eye.

     “Well, I do enjoy coming to the pier so I’m sure I will think it’s a good time too, but I don’t know why it’s supposed to be such a surprise.”

     He just winked at me and said, “You’ll see.”

     After we finished our drinks, he looked at his watch and announced that it was almost time for the big surprise.  He led me again down the pier a little ways and for the second time that day, I stopped dead in my tracks.  He was leading me to Trapeze School.

     “You can’t be serious, James,” I sputtered.

     “As serious as a heart attack, Kitten.  You know I love to fly.”

     “I assumed you meant in your plane!”  I screeched.

     “Oh no, babe.  C’mon, don’t be afraid.  You’re going to love this.”  He tugged me forward, and we checked in for the beginner flying trapeze class that was about to start.

     I cannot adequately express the thrill and exhilaration of trapeze flying.  It was like the zip line with the wind rushing past me and the freedom of soaring through the air, only better.  I didn’t have the cumbersome helmet, and I wasn’t confined in a heavy-duty harness.  I did have safety lines on, but they extended from a belt at my waist.  I felt the experience in every cell of my body.

     We started with learning a basic take off.    By the end of the class, I had only mastered (I use the term loosely) a knee hang still being somewhat of a ‘fraidy cat,’ while others learned neat tricks with names like the planche and whip.  I was successfully able to make a transfer which made me feel like a real live circus performer so I didn’t feel the least bit bad about not being able to learn the other stuff.  I was immediately interested in signing up for more classes so I could overcome my hesitancy about trying the other tricks and said as much to James as we were leaving.

     “It’s an addiction, Mimi.  You’ll take another class, and another, and another until the next thing you know you’re in the advanced classes,” he claimed.

     “Have you done this a lot?”  I asked as we strolled back the way we came. I assumed that I was finally going to get what I now considered a well-deserved hot fudge sundae.

     “I don’t get to get out here as often as I’d like what with it being so far, and I don’t always know what days I’ll have off, but I try to come at least once a month.  I’m still just a beginner myself, but I’ve talked with enough people and have been coming long enough to know it gets in your blood.”

     “I can totally see that.  The class just zoomed by, and I wish I could get back in there and do it again.  I was almost annoyed waiting for other people to take their turn.”  I laughed and James laughed with me.

     “Are you ready for the next item on the agenda?” he said as he steered me toward the bait and tackle shop.  So much for my hot fudge sundae.

     “Oh my God!  You want to fish?” I exclaimed.

     “Oh, yes.  It’s another one of my favorite things to do.  I think it’ll be very relaxing after our last couple of hours.  Have you been fishing before, Kitten?”

     “Once, on my first anniversary with Vance.  We didn’t catch anything.  Other than that, I never had much opportunity to do so.  My father died when I was very young and my mom isn’t exactly what you’d call ‘outdoorsy,’  As I got older, I guess I never really thought about it.  And don’t call me Kitten.”

     “You’ll love it.  There’s something soothing about it.  You’ll see,” he assured me.

     James rented us a couple of fishing poles and a bucket of mackerel and squid for bait.  We strolled to the end of the pier where other people were already there with their lines in the water.  James explained that the type of bait we were using was ideal for snaring mackerel.  I was shocked that mackerel would be attracted by its own kind. 

     Though I’d only done it once before, I found it to be surprisingly easy, and as he said, relaxing.  It gave us a chance to make small talk and to get to know each other’s personalities even better.  I found that in addition to being a silly, somewhat wild and crazy guy, he could also be surprisingly easy going and relaxed. 

     “How did you get into fishing?” I asked, as I looked out over the sea.  The sun was just beginning to dip low on the horizon, signaling that our lovely day would soon draw to a close.

     James slowly drew his line back up and then cast out again.  “I suppose it started with my Dad,” he said.  “He used to take me over to Lake Shetek which is about twenty-one miles southwest of Walnut Grove.  We’d go a few times a year, do some camping there, and during the day we’d walk out to the lake and fish for walleye, crappie, and bullheads.”

     “There’s actually a fish called crappie?” I laughed.  “And people actually eat it?”

     “Oh my God, Mimi, they’re delicious fried and served with a little lemon and hot sauce.  You should try it.”

     “I think I’ll take your word for it.” I said dubiously just as I felt a tug on my line.  “Oh wow, I think I got something!” 

     James drew closer and told me to reel it in slowly, as in my excitement I was winding the reel as fast and hard as I could.  With some effort, I was able to bring up a good-sized mackerel, our first of the day.  He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of me holding it up, indicating my very first fish was a moment to be preserved for all time.  I grinned wildly for the camera, thrilled to have been successful.

     Over the course of two hours, I caught three fish and James caught five.  With no way to store them, we offered them to the other anglers where we were fishing, which they were only too happy to accept.  

     The sun was setting as we left, bathing the evening in a brilliant display of orange, purple, and blue.  As we were walking back down the pier, James stopped a passing couple and asked them to take a picture of the two of us.  It turned out marvelously, both of us looking relaxed and happy with the beautiful sky behind us.  He then insisted we take pictures of each other alone, which I was all too accommodating to do.  The day was definitely one to remember.

     When we got to the car, James asked, “Are you ready for Phase Two of this date?  I trust from the steamer trunk you brought, you packed appropriately.”

     “Oh you.  It’s just an overnight case.  I just needed more room than a duffel bag would provide,” I said, giving him a small pinch on his side.

    He chuckled, indicating, “I’m only teasing you.  There’s no need for bodily harm, here.”

    “Then let’s get a move on.  Where are we going, anyway?”

     “Well, I reserved a room at Loews Hotel so we could change,” he said to me with a pointed look.  “It’s only for freshening up and changing.  None of your funny business this time, Kitten.”

     I sputtered in response.  “I do believe all the ‘funny business’ thus far has been mutual.”

    “Are you kidding me?  Last time you jumped my bones almost before I had a chance to say hello!”

     “Pfft.  That’s not how I remember it at all.”

     “You have a distinct lack of self-control, young lady.  I’ll have to teach you how to combat that.”

     I snorted.  “Okay, this will be interesting.  Now, finish telling me what we’re doing tonight.”

     “After we finish making ourselves presentable, we’re going to have a very beautiful dinner at Ocean & Vine, which is the hotel restaurant.  It’s a very nice place with a beautiful view of the ocean.   Our reservation is for eight p.m., so I think we’ll get the last bit of the sun’s rays.”

     “Well it’s almost seven now,” I said, looking at my watch.  After all the exertion of the day, I think we’re both going to need showers.  I hope we make it on time.”