Posted by: jockmackenzie | April 29, 2009

“Dealing With Dymans” Chapter 1, Pt. 2

Click the “start arrow” below to hear the audio of this chapter:

“Clee, I don’t believe you. I mean ‘I believe you’ but you know what I mean – I don’t believe you. You read things into situations that aren’t there. You’re from the ‘Ready, Shoot, Aim’ academy.”

“What? No, there’s more. It wasn’t just our meeting at the bank. I happened to accidentally bump into J.J. in the grocery store later that day, the one around the corner from the bank. I was looking for something to go with my fish sticks, so when I saw her, I asked her if she knew where the cous cous was. I can never find that stuff. I can remember her words as if it was yesterday. She said, ‘This is the first time ever that someone has mistaken me for a grocery store worker.’ Well, I fell all over myself apologizing and trying to dig myself out of that hole, explaining that I didn’t actually take her for a store employee but, that being a woman, she might know more about where things were than me, a man, and . . .”

“Is that when things started to heat up?”

“No, no. Over the next few days I realized that I had to order some more cheques and that I wanted to find out about that new government savings plan and a couple of other things so I just kept bumping into her. Okay, I admit that I made up a few excuses to go to the bank but I’m not one to beat around the bush. Hey, all’s fair in love and war and you know my philosophy, ‘Winners never quit and quitters never win.’”

“Okay, I get it. You have been stalking this woman since a week ago last Tuesday. Somehow or other, the events since then have convinced you that she is ‘the’ one.”

“Well ‘stalking’ is going over the top but, you’re right, she is ‘the’ one. I feel it in my bones, more importantly, in my heart. I jumped into this thing with both feet and I’m glad I did. Without going into the what you would call the ‘lucid’ details or whatever, we have talked at some length, on the phone, and she is meeting me here for coffee.”

Before Jack had time to react, Clee’s attention was drawn to the front of the coffee shop. Standing, just inside the door, was a female version of Cleveland Shea – same tall, lanky frame, same red hair (but without Clee’s liberal sprinkling of freckles), same big grin. Just her presence seemed to increase the room’s temperature by several degrees.

Clee leapt to his feet, seemed to almost materialize at her side, put out his right arm, and escorted the much-discussed J.J. across the room. He stopped right in front of his waiting friend and announced, “Jack, I would like to introduce J.J. OnDonte.” As he pulled a stool out for her to sit down, he added, “And this is my longest and oldest friend, Jack Schmidt.”

J.J. and Clee’s old buddy shook hands. Her grip was firm and she looked him in the eye as she smiled that smile. He was, momentarily, speechless.

Then she turned to Clee and sighed, “It’s a pleasure to meet such a close personal friend, but I must say, what an unexpected surprise to be so gallantly met. This may possibly be the most anticipated date I have ever been on, Cleveland.”

Now Clee was speechless. They looked into each other’s eyes for what seemed an eternity, perhaps the eternity that Jack had mentioned earlier.

Clee broke the spell with, “Well, I couldn’t agree more. I certainly don’t want to drop the ball at this point in time. What can I get you? The coffee here is awesome; they roast it right there in that big red roaster. Experts agree that the Cowboy blend is top drawer, but today, they also have Guatemalan. Name your poison?”

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