Saturday, April 12, 2008

Fred & Quiet Man


So the next morning I arrive at the office and I am sitting at the conference table that is piled with mountains of paperwork and things I currently work on, for since I have a rapid, scattered, mind, so is how I work.

I had made myself a cup of coffee since the stress present in my life currently has still taken hold of me, showing it’s ugly self on my face. It’s abhorrent.

I hoped the coffee would at least enliven me to the tasks ahead of me.

Furiously, I begin to tackle the pile of work. I am speaking on the phone and my cell begins to ring. As usual, I am searching the piles to see where the sound is coming from, really just trying to find my buried tiny purse that I seem to keep believing I can cram every piece of crap I need to carry: check book, lipstick, overflowing wallet carrying receipts and currently an inordinate amount of coin, slim mirror and two sets of keys on two key chains, the slim lock for the gym and a pen.

As I am speaking, the annoying cell tone is continuing to repeat. I find the phone and look at the caller ID. It is Quiet Man’s number.

As the person I am speaking to is continuing to talk, my mind is wandering to the caller ID that displays his initial. Should I answer, should I not? The phone is continuing to ring. Subconsciously I shove the phone back into the purse. It eventually goes to voice mail. Thirty seconds later, the phone pager goes off. An off, and off. I did not realize how long that could go on.

I complete my phone call and then mull around in my mind what I was going to do: call him back or not?

While I was deciding, I continued to work. Less than fifteen minutes later, he was back at it. I did not answer the phone.

Over two and a half hours later, I decided to ring him. Quiet Man is not one to call more than once, so I was wondering why he did and paged me to boot which he never did. He is very assured in that manner; slickly assured, which was why it took him two months to call to see what had happened with me. My curiosity was stronger than my female rebuff.

“Allo,” he says confidently.

“Well?” I ask.

“Muse, Allo.”

“Hi Quiet Man.”

“Where are you Muse?”

“Why?”

“We are celebrating!”

“You are?”

“Since last night!”

“Why?”

“Freddie, his problem is solved,” he said firmly, flatly and definitively.

“Are you kidding? How?”

So he tells me and I am in disbelief.

“Well, I told him to do that a long, long time ago, but of course, since I am female, none of you listen to me,” I said firmly, but I was happy for Fred and shocked he finally did something.

“No, no Muse, we listen to you.”

“No you don’t because if you did, this would have been resolved a long time ago. “

“MUSE! It is I, Fred!” I hear him bellow into the phone. He must have grabbed it from Quiet Man.

“Hi Fred, I am so glad you finally decided to listen to me. I am so glad for you anyway. So what happened?”

He and Quiet Man take turns grabbing the phone from each other and filling me in on this coup. They were also drinking. It was now early afternoon and Quiet Man first rang me at 10:30 am. But I don’t blame them, if I were Fred, I would be singing in the streets too.

So we change over from cell phone to land lines since they had so much to tell me.

Quiet Man eventually explains why he was unable to speak to me since he was ina bar the night before awaiting the news of what resulted from the meeting where all this goodness for Fred took place. He told me he was with Mr. Wrong. The only connection I see with Mr. Wrong and Quiet Man is strip clubs and money. That is it.

Fred also announces definitively he will be running for publicc office.

“Really Fred? You decided to go for it?”

“Oh yes Muse! Will you help me?”

Quiet Man had already told me this and I repeated my strong support and I told him I would do everything to help him.

“You know Fred what I will do for you?”

“What Muse?”

“I will interview Marsha and let her tell people what she thinks of all your infidelity.”

They laughed and laughed.

“Don’t think I won’t do it!” I jokingly warned them.

“Oh Marsha won’t do it,” said Fred.

“That is what you think, Fred. She would do it in a heart beat.”

Quiet Man told me of some of Marsha’s tactics, such as sitting in the parking lot across the street from where Fred’s store was which was probably like a football field length away or more, with binoculars. At Christmas, she was watching the store and caught Fred having a drink with two twenty year old floozies, but to Fred’s defense, that is all he was really doing, was having a drink. Of course, Quiet Man and I would howl over Fred’s woes with Marsha.


So Fred’s land line was also for his store, and he put me on hold, but I hung up because I was also working. So after doing this twice, I hung up on the third hold and called Quiet Man on his cell. By this time we must have been talking for an hour and a half to two hours.

“Allo Muse.”

“How long are you going to be there?”

“I will be here,” he said which was his way of saying for a while.

Fred pipes in and wants Bobble Head’s phone number. He is hot after Bobble Head and since they were drinking, Fred thinks his chances are prime, since Flat Foot left her. I was howling thinking about this.

We talked about why on earth was he so interested in that Bobble Head? Quiet Man and I in the past mused about it that she was Fred’s size. Fred in his mind is a towering hunk of a macho man. He is not.

Fred goes on about myself. He is trying to be flattering, he is trying to cajole. He is getting no where.

“Fred, Fred, stop,” I told him, “don’t you know by now that what ever comes out of your mouth has not any effect on me?”

Quiet Man pipes in, “Muse, it is Quiet Man. You are on speaker phone, there is no secrets between us.”

These two are like two school boys.

“Well the same goes for you too,” I told him.

“Muse, Ricky has soft spot for you Muse,” Quiet Man said.

“What?” I demanded, and I really did not hear him correctly.

“Ricky likes you.”

“OK, Quiet Man, I am SO SICK OF THIS,” I started, ”first it is Fred, then it is Flat Foot, then it was Berman, then is was Dane, now it is Ricky.”

“It is true Muse,” he said firmly.

“Now why do you think that?”

“Because you talk to Ricky and he no tell me. He never tell me you talk to him, that is why.”

“You are ridiculous.”

What I should have said is that the only man who is interested in me, is you, Quiet Man. But I did not. He would have his slick answer of “I love my wife”, despite all the stripper girls he “befriends”.

So he tipped his hand to me again, because he would never care a lick if Ricky spoke to me 24/7 without his knowledge. In his mind, during the two months I had not any contact with him, I had contact with Ricky and Dane. In his mind, that must mean something, even if it was within the last two weeks and the only time in two months I first spoke to any of them.

As to Fred being interested, perhaps because Fred likes what he cannot have, but Quiet Man would never say that about Fred, for it would ruin whatever financial interests lie between he and Fred, and Fred holds the cards on that one.

So back to Bobble Head.

The last time Fred saw Bobble Head was during the Wrong’s party.

“OK, I will bring her cell number to you. I have to go to the bank first, though and I will be down. I have to see this first hand, Fred telling her he want her, on the phone none the less.”

“Ok, Muse, see you,” gurgled Quiet Man.

In addition to drunk dialing Bobble Head, these two where sharing the love with others.

I could not resist that they were drunk dialing people, of course with adult reasons. They were calling the uppity office of the person who was taken completely by surprise that Fred’s problem was resolved. They were calling to thank him for his help. To invite him out for a drink or dinner, for all his kindness in resolving the problem. In truth, this man was the root of all of Fred’s problems and this man was caught by surprise when the problem was solved without his knowledge. The fury was immense from this man. Fred and Quiet Man were fueling it steadily and with much comedy.

For some reason, speaking to those two opened the flood gates to relieve the stress I was harboring. I felt free and happy. I was laughing and enjoying their craziness.

As I go to get into my car, my sister in law pulls in; she was supposed to call first, which she did not. It was my nephew’s birthday. CD was going to be a year old. I was to watch him for twenty minutes while she picked up the balloons.

So I told her to meet me in the parking lot of Fred’s store while I went to the bank.

She instead meets me in Fred’s store. Fred was very confused. I grabbed CD on my hip and she is handing me all this baby stuff, and I was like what is all this about? I was not going to baby sit him for hours. So instead of discussing it with her, I explained what happened to Fred and he did not have a problem with it, so finally my sister in law decides to go and get the freaking balloons. She has this odd fascination with having something to do with Fred. She knows he is wealthy and it bothers me she panders or whatever she does.

I enter the back office with CD on my hip.

Quiet Man looks up and at CD.

Fred is right behind me.

We sit and talk and Fred and I ask Quiet Man if he remembers CD. He was confused and I was confused. He remembers only a small baby and I don’t remember him seeing CD. We straighten out the stupid confusion, I not remembering my sister in law was with me the night after my mother was killed and Quiet Man not putting that 6 months had passed since then.

CD at first did not let Quiet Man touch his shoe. I was quite surprised at how gentle and sweet Quiet Man was with CD. CD could not stop staring at Quiet Man, while in my arms.

Fred, of course, not being center of even CD’s attention was unflattering to his ego. That is how large his ego is, truly.

Eventually CD made it into Quiet Man’s arms. I was amazed at the interest Quiet Man had with CD. CD made a friend that day and CD just could not stop looking at Quiet Man’s face. Quiet Man cooed and snuggled with him and spoke to him with that deep, thick accent in a baby talk sort of way, while I was speaking with Fred. He held CD by his waist, and paid such close attention to CD, I was shocked by his way with children.

CD is such a good baby, Fred and Quiet Man noticed. He is, he is a wonderful baby. And very strikingly beautiful for a boy. Never has this baby not commanded attention from strangers. He is going to be a handful when he is older we predict.

So when my sister in law arrives to pick up her son, I made the mistake of not bringing her son to her, so she came back and since she did not make any moves of retrieving her son, Fred asked her to sit down. I cringed listening to her banter on, trying to find a way to give her back CD and get her on her way. My brother would not approve and it bothered me.

So, when she left, we got on with our business, eh fun.

We re-hashed the coup that was torturing the man who tortured Fred and cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Fred calls him again and he is not in his office. The news was spreading and the calls where coming in and Quiet Man and I enjoyed the speaker phone listening to those who did not know we were listening. One tells Fred to not stir the pot, and Quite Man and I laugh to ourselves, like it would be advice not taken.

Then a lull came in, and Fred’s insurance man arrived. A nice, older middle aged man who repeats himself beyond belief. It boring and engaged Fred and Quiet Man in at least a thirty minute conversation about how Fred should drive himself and his family to Florida. Finally it was over. Quiet Man told me that that was the topic of conversation for over a week between them.

So I had shown Fred the photo I of a single woman who is stunningly gorgeous that I know. I was teasing him that what the hell did he see in Bobble Head and why he wanted, a married man none the less, sloppy seconds?

So he sees the photo of the woman. He squealed. Quiet Man was impressed. He said, “Freddy, this woman has no problems, she have men after her continuously.”

I was laughing because this woman resides in Europe and would probably NEVER have any interest in Fred, who was planning chartering a flight there to meet her.

But, I discovered I did not have Bobble Head’s number in my phone. Fred said she gave it to him. So he looks for her number again. I told him the first three numbers. I eventually find it in my computer and he dials.

The phone rings and who answers? Flat Foot.

OMG, Quiet Man and I are dying laughing. Fred looks over to us and is flapping his hand, not knowing what to say, but he glides into a conversation with Flat Foot who ended up being unsuspected but quite confused at the call.

After the call, we scream laughing. I told him to watch the numbers since he and her have the same cell service and same area code.

So we eventually find the number and he calls her. The Bobble Head. She has no idea that he had already discussed with us all the amorous feelings he has for her, but does not want a girl friend. I mentioned she wanted to marry Flat Foot and have children. Fred was willing to give her a child. There was no stopping him.

The call to Bobble Head was funny for Quite Man and I and I would think embarrassing for Fred, but with his ego, he does not notice Bobble Head’s stammering and stuttering trying to get him off of her phone.

With his gratuitous sweethearts and lame explanations of why he was calling, he actually said he was going through his phone book and came across her number, she stops him mid sentence and says did he speak to Flat Foot? No, he said, he had not-which was a lie because he just called him

With a bunch of OH, OHs, Bobble Head who was at the airport heading towards Vegas, promised to return the call.

Fred truly believe she will call. We took bets. I said she thought Fred was calling on behalf of Flat Foot. Quiet Man agreed, of course Fred did not.

He was going to promise Bobble Head the sun, the moon, stays at luxurious hotels, flights to Europe, a turn in the sack, even it if meant at the local cheesy hotel.

As time went on, Fred asks if I wanted anything to drink. No, but Quite Man wanted coffee.

“You no want anything Muse?”

“No, I am fine.”

“Muse wants her orange drink,” he tells Fred.

“Yes, Muse, you like the orange drink,” replied Fred.

“Yes, but I don’t want one now,” I told them and we went around and around about my orange IZZI from Starbucks.

So to stretch my legs I went with Quiet Man to get his coffee.

We return and discussed things more and other items. I mentioned I had to go to CD’s birthday party and Quiet Man informs me of the time. He told me it was 6:40 pm, and I darted up, said my good bye and left. I found out it was only 5:40 pm, thank God the man misread the clock.

I left that store that evening with a bit lighter step. I felt re-freshed and good enough to continue to face the hardships that are before me that hopefully will end before the year is out. I have a long, toiled road to travel currently. Their company was a well tonic for me, as they always have been; that is why we have befriended each other, despite the resulting complications. And that is what I focus to enjoy.



3 comments:

Glamourpuss said...

They are such boys!

Puss

SoozieQ said...

See that is why I love hanging out with the guys! For some reason guys just seem to make things more lighthearted. Us women can never get together without talking about something serious :)

Glad to hear you had fun with them!

Gucci Muse said...

Puss-they are also retarded, but immense fun when they want to be.

SJ-yes, I love hanging with the boys-I have always had more men as friends than women. They are so much easier, less competitive and honest. And I am usually the only female in the group, and I like it that way. Always did.