What A Week, Quiet Man

I have seen and spoken to Quiet Man a lot this week, and in so doing, it has an odd feeling. Why the flurry of activity with him?

It was Monday, and Fred had made his way on his vacation but within the first two hours of leaving home, he sliced a tire at 90 mph at 1 am and almost killed everyone in the vehicle. He had to sit on the side of the highway with Marsha, their kids and their friends. When Triple A showed up they only had a doughnut for a spare so he had to hobble his way to the next major city to get a replacement rental car, at five in the morning. Poor Fred. When Quiet Man told me, I could not stop laughing.

In the late afternoon Monday, I saw him at his office.

I walked into the room and saw the door was open to the warehouse where all the most expensive cars are stored.

I called out hello and saw him come around with someone.

“Hello Beauty!” he said in his thick, strong accent.

How embarrassing, I thought; but with the sexiness in which he called to me, lingered as it sent a shiver to me.

He was with Sal, to whom he introduced me.

We ended up chatting after I brought my friend GTD whom I was with into the office. This man, GTD, would be able to help Sal with his problem that they called me about over the weekend.

We sat for a while listening to Sal’s woes. I sat in front of Quiet Man’s desk, as usual. I felt him stare at me. He was clean shaven and looked handsome. He told me he was at an auction or something like that earlier in the day. Every time I glanced over at him, his eyes darted away, for he was looking at me.

The Swinger showed up and Quiet Man had to deal with him. He just bought an antique car from Quiet Man, he had a problem with some paper work the Friday before, now he was back. He is annoying.

So as we were leaving, Quiet Man had mentioned something about Sal and the casino.

We say good bye, I drop the man I was with at his car and I headed home. I changed out of the slinky knit skirt I was wearing with BCBG heels in Olive shined leather and a wooly top since it was still chilly. I had tanned my legs so that I did not have to wear stockings. No sooner did I change at home, my cell rings. It was Quiet Man.

“Muse?” he said.

“Well, Quiet Man, how nice to hear from you in such a long while,” I teased.

He laughed.

“What are you doing now, Muse?”

“Why?”

“Can you meet me for a drink tonight?”

“Why?”

“Mr. Wrong wants to talk to you and I forget to tell you.”

Why he did not tell me this when I last saw him less than thirty minutes prior. I had to then redress.

[The next day, I had found a message from Mr. Wrong about forty minutes from when Quiet Man called me. Mr. Wrong did not mention anything about meeting with him. I did not mention that to Quiet Man.]

So we made arrangements to meet at his office. He then rings me to tell me he had to diesel up a truck he had to use because the dealer plates where being all used that night for deliveries of vehicles.

I was to meet him at the gas station. So I did.

I pull up and he was walking around the station. I smiled broadly at him and he smiled back. He was going to pick me up across the street in front of Fred’s store where I would leave my car. I told him I would park across the street, rather than drive around the lot to Fred’s store.

I pull out before him and park my car. I see him directly across from me and am walking on lump grass towards him, thinking he would pull out and onto the shoulder to pick me up in that large truck. He whizzes by me toward’s Fred store. I was so annoyed. How could he not see me? I try to get back to the pavement, get my high heels stuck in the dirt, almost toppling forward on my face, while looking for my cell phone to call him. I see he raced to Fred’s seeing the yellow light on the top of the Ford F350 dooley he was driving. I ring him.

“Muse, where are you?”

“I am by the grocery store,” I said.

“What you do there Muse, you are supposed to be at Fred’s ?”

“Just come and pick me up,” I told him.

“OK, Muse.”

So I see him looking for me despite telling him where I was.

He swings the door open for me and extends his hand for mine. I grasp that strong masculine hand and he pulls me into the enormous double cab. I was like a giddy girl being fetched by her cowboy.

We drove to meet Mr. Wrong in the next state. When he parked the truck amongst the luxury cars in the lot, I was wide eyed. There was something very macho about a man picking up his girl in a truck. Not that it was the first time a man collected me like this.

I open the passenger door and I had my right calf swinging in his view, accented by the gorgeous shoe I had on. I knew he would see it as he rushed to help me from the cab. He held my hand while holding the door and stepped close as I descended so I would not fall forward.

He always grasps my hand in the same manner into his warm one. I offer my hand and he firmly holds my fingers and the top part of my palm, like a princess.

We laughed and he held my waist as we walked to the front door. I put my arm around him, resisting burying my face into his side.

We enter and we saw Mr. Wrong by himself in his predictable black turtleneck. He is handsome in his own way, but does nothing for me at all. He was sitting at the bar where Quiet Man and I had done a few nights before.

Quiet Man wanted me to sit between the both of them, which I did not feel comfortable doing, being we were at the bar. I finally convinced him that I would sit next to him and he would be in the middle. He mentioned some weird thing about me not sitting at the end of the bar because I would not marry if I do; a weird thing to say.

Quiet Man had filled me in on what Mr. Wrong wanted to speak to me about. Quiet Man ordered drinks for us. Screwing with Mr. Wrong, I acted as if I did not know why I was summoned that night. He stumbled to bring up what he wanted to tell me.

So, I briefly spoke to him, but Quiet Man and I had begun to entertain ourselves, laughing, drinking and commenting on the man who was trying to pick me up the last time. He was at the bar with one of his six girlfriends. Blech, was all that I could say. It ended up that she left with another girlfriend of hers. What kind of girlfriend does that? A fake one.

“Muse, you see he try to impress you tonight,” said Quiet Man.

“No, he is with his woman. She looks exactly as I told him she would.”

He laughed into my ear. We were huddled, leaning into each other, whispering to each other. We sort of forgot about Mr. Wrong.

When Mr. Wrong was done discussing, he noted he had to immediately leave. Quiet Man asked him if he would drive me back to my car. I did not want to go with him though I told Quiet Man when he picked me up I would.

“You know, Mr. Wrong, I don’t want to make you go out of your way. I can call for a ride and if I can’t get one, I am sure Quiet Man will drive me back.”

“But of course, Muse, I would,” Quiet Man responded.

Mr. Wrong just looked at me and tried to convince me it would not be problem. I tried to convince him it would.

So he left and I was happy to finally be there alone with Quiet Man. We continued to talk in our own little world. He drank about three tumblers of rum and coke, and ate the salami and Percorino Romano cheese chunks with which it came.

We decided to leave. I felt bad he had to drive all the way back to my car, being in the opposite direction in which he lived.

“I no mind, Muse,” he assured me. I was glad to spend time with him since it flies by when it is he and I.

We pull into a space next to my car and we continue to converse, laugh and feed off of each other for about two and one half hours.

I was surprised when he turned off the engine. I thought he would leave immediately to go home. He did not.

As I talked with him, I wondered the same thing I did earlier in the evening when I would whisper in his ear to get nearer to him. Would he try and kiss me again? What would I do should it happen? I shuddered to think about it and put it out of my mind until it creeped back in by something he said or how he looked at me.

He reached over the seat to clutch my face between his fingers, like an affectionate pinch. Beauty purred from his lips. He kissed the air towards me. He did this as we spoke about random topics. I sat with my back up against the door. My legs crossed toward him, looking at him first under the street light and then the moonlight when the lights went off. I studied his handsome face and listened to the lilt in his deep strong accent as he spoke to me. I flirted with thought of moving into his lap. He was turned towards me in his seat, but I remembered who we were and just kept the conversation flowing with laughter.

We said our goodbyes. He looked exhausted in the cab light that came on when he reached over me to open my door. Gallant and sure is he.

We follow each other down the road until I need to turn off. I flashed my lights goodbye and he taps his brakes in response.

I entered the house resisting the urge to call him and chat while he drove home.

The next morning, Tuesday, I was on my way to Trudy’s to meet her to go to the casino. First I had to suffer her bowling league. I rang Quiet Man, then hung up. I had my DD coffee I was trying to drink, drive and call. It was too much, so I hung up before he answered.

While I was in the car with Trudy, her husband and her sister, while having to look at where Flat Foot lived when he was young, Quiet Man rings. I ended up hanging up on him by mistake. I dialed his number. The cell timer was moving, but I did not hear him. Trudy’s sister decides to show me baby pictures of her first grandchild. I was talking to her while looking at my cell with the initial indicating who was on the line. I hung up since I think the phone was hanging.

I did not want to call him again because I did not want Trudy to know I was talking to him. She already asked him about me at New Years.

When we arrived at the bowling alley, GTD called me, so I made my excuses to not go in to bowl, having business with which to deal.

I then used GTD as an excuse to call Quiet Man back.

He told me that he was listening to my conversation with Trudy’s sister. We spoke for about 40 minutes during two phone calls since he had to have me wait for him to call me back and then had me on hold for a long time.

I was happy to talk to him, my speech running rampant since he elevates my adrenaline. He is a good tonic for me, uplifting and exiting. It must be the laughter. His laugh is deep, resounding and genuine. It feels good to hear him.

While at the casino, I spoke to him, while leaving Trudy to bet on the horses. I could hardly hear him, but he was on his way home and his cell service would cut off soon.