The Parking Lot
(a fiction by Cella)
He leaned against the hood of the pale-green '79 Buick. Why did I buy this hunk o'junk? he asked himself, then let out an inaudible snicker as he remembered. Oh yeah. She said I had to have it because it perfectly matched my...how did she put it...'mesmerizing tropical eyes'. Thank the Lord above that Dad made me take auto shop in school or I'd never be able to afford the repairs. I may be a techno-geek, but at least I know how to fix the carburetor...well, with the help of a Chilton Guide...and my best gal holding the book open and handing me tools. I have to hand it to her – she knows the difference between a monkey wrench and a lug wrench. Somehow, that makes her even hotter – especially when she calls me “Doc.”
He stared at the pond in the distance and watched the ducks and Canada geese enjoy the sunny late-spring day. He quietly snickered again.
I bet she'd look great in a pair of coveralls...with one big zipper down the front...and nuthin' but some frilly Victoria's Secret underwear underneath. A little crooky grin washed over his face, then he checked his watch.
Well, it's five o'clock. She should be out any minute. He saw the front door of the building open and a number of people come out, but quickly realized she wasn't one of them. Over the course of ten minutes or so, he watched most of the employees leave the building. He checked his watch again.
I guess this is why we usually meet at six – because she doesn't always get off work on time. Well, I can wait. Her car's in the lot, so I know she's still here.
He heard a fairly harsh sound from above and watched a small plane pass overhead. Suddenly the sun hit his eyes – his hand lifted to his forehead to block the bright beam; it felt warm on his hand. Something tickled his nose; he moved his hand back down and gave a light tug to the the long, loose thread that hung from the dark olive dress shirt's cuff, under his vintage off-white suit. Fortunately, the thread came right out. He inspected the sleeve and ran his fingertips against the suit's unusual material.
I can't believe she convinced Uncle Judd to let me have this suit. I really wasn't sure about it myself – I prefer buying from Old Navy, not rummaging through my uncle's closet. But, somehow she assured us both that the suit belonged on my back. I guess we Aiken men have no immunity to her charms once those dark eyes and long black lashes flutter at us.
He stared at the front door once more, hoping to see her walk out.
And Lord in Heaven, she was laying it on him so thick that he ended up letting her have anything she wanted from his closet. But, she only wanted THIS suit. Well...she did take one of his prized fedoras for me, too, but after spending so much time on this unruly hair of mine today – getting it to stick up here and there like that Ryan Seacrest guy she likes so much – there was no way I'd put on that hat.
The stand of mature maple trees that bordered the parking lot rustled. He shifted his weight to his left foot and crossed his right over it. He set both hands behind him against the hood of the car then quickly brought his wrist around again. Quarter after. She must be working on something important. He set his hand back onto the clean car and watched as still more employees trickled out of the building, bound for home and their real lives. He looked down at his feet to his brown dress shoes.
I guess if I'm gonna wear vintage clothes I should wear “vintage” shoes, too. It's just too damned hard to find 13-1/2 narrows, so what other choice do I have but to keep wearing these? He pointed his toe to the left and right. Well, at least they polished up pretty well. He noticed the few worn spots, made a gristled grin, then looked back to the entrance. Oh hell, she'd just say it gives the shoes character. I don't know about that – I look at 'em and think I need new shoes.
A squirrel quietly scampered across the sidewalk and into some bushes. He heard the birds nearby. He raised his wrist once more. Twenty after. He eyed the entrance yet again and spied a lone woman slowly pushing open the door. She was stylishly dressed in a black pinstripe pantsuit with large white cuffs protruding from the jacket. She looked at the ground as she walked across, then up the long sidewalk toward the parking lot. A bright smile washed over him and suddenly he felt alive again. He struck the coolest, most nonchalant pose he could muster and stared at her. Look up, honey!
At that moment, she did. Her wilted countenance disappeared – he saw her whole body instantly spring back to life; her walk more brisk. His heart raced at the sight of her indescribably-beautiful smile.
God, she really loves me...and damn if I don't really love her! I'm gonna marry that girl one day and have the most beautiful kids ever with her.
The clop of her black pumps grew louder as she approached. She stopped about six feet from him and tried to be as casual as he.
“Hi.”
“Hi, honey.”
She studied him. “I told you you'd look fabulous in that suit. Your uncle's got great taste.”
His lip curled up. “Well, you're a better judge of that than I am.”
“And that tie and shirt are beautiful. They match perfectly.”
He looked down and fumbled with the diagonally-striped tie a bit. “Really? I wasn't sure. I asked an older lady next to me at the checkstand if it looked ok, and she said, 'Sweetie...it looked great back in my day and it still looks great now.' I started wondering if you two were related.”
She snickered and took a few steps forward. “I was right about the car, too. It makes a stunning accessory. The perfect green.” He giggled and shook his head, then looked into her eyes as she ran a couple fingers against the spikes in his pale auburn hair.
“You're really workin' it today. Where's a photographer when you need one.” She leaned her right hip against the grill of the car and stood next to him. “So...what's the answer to the $64 question?” she said as she crossed her arms.
“Well, we finally, FINALLY finished the project, and I'm celebrating.”
“So we're gonna go celebrate the end of the project. That's cool.”
“No, we already celebrated the end of the project at work. I left for the day right afterward and they won't see me again until Tuesday. I went to the mall and bought this little ensemble, got cleaned up, managed to make my hair look like this, threw on the suit and cruised on over here. Now, I'M celebrating.” He wrapped his arm and pulled her against him. “I'm celebrating...being able to finally be with you again.”
Her arms reached around his slim torso. “I've missed you an awful lot.”
His finger lifted her chin. “I've missed you so much, it's gonna take me three days to show you.” Her laugh was so joyful; and her lips, once they met his, were so warm and soft...and only for him.
“I'm so glad to have you back again.”
“You can't get rid of me that easily.” They held each other tight.
“So...you're gonna take three days to show how much you missed me? What's first on that agenda?”
His eyes darkened to the olive of his shirt and he threw her his best crooky smile. “You know...I really appreciate you always helping me when I fix the car, and well...seeing you in such a pretty outfit, it occurred to me that I'd hate to see you get your nice clothes all greasy.” He took her hand and helped her into the passenger side of the car. “What's say I buy you a nice pair of coveralls, then we'll head back to the mall for dinner at Lindey's and a little...shopping.”
A little suspicion and a little intrigue ran through her as he got into the driver's side and reached for the key in the ignition.
“Dinner at Lindey's? Nice. And...after all that shopping?”
“Afterward? Oh, well, maybe we'll just head back to my place. I can model what I have on and you...can model what you get today.”
“Really now. And what about my car?”
He looked at her with wanton eyes and a pearlescent grin as he turned over the engine. “It'll be fine where it is. You won't need it until Tuesday.”
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~Posted 9.07.2004~
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