Shattered Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 1)

by Heather Guimond

  We smiled goofily at each other as we parted, lingering for only a second more, then I jumped into the cab next to a squealing Laurel. The driver lurched into the erratic and noisy traffic of the airport, leaving me feeling dazed and giddy at the same time.

  Chapter Two

  I didn't have to wait long to hear from Vance. That evening, while sitting in a little hole-in-the-wall bar with Laurel and some of her friends, I was startled to hear the lyrics of 'Marry Me' by Train coming from my purse. At first I was confused, but then scrambled for my purse while laughing myself silly. The phone went quiet as I dug frantically through gum wrappers, random papers, lipsticks and other clutter to find my phone. I excused myself and stepped outside to return the call. As soon as the voice on the other end answered, I didn't give him another chance to speak.

  “You proposed, again? By ring tone, this time? I’m starting to worry about you, Vance,” I said as I leaned back against the rough brick of the building outside.

  He laughed softly. “I wanted to be sure you knew it was me calling.”

  “How do you know I don’t have a bunch of other guys proposing to me right now?” I asked coyly.

  “I don’t, but how many are so clever as to sneak a ring tone into your phone when giving you their contact information?” he teased. “I’m sure by now, they have all called you at least once, and have their own boring ring tones assigned.”

  I chuckled warmly as I scraped the toe of my boot against the sidewalk. “Yes, of course. You do realize though, that all of them waited until they had at least kissed me before popping the question for the first time.”

  A strangled sound echoed across the line before I heard Vance clear his throat. “Well, there will be no more kissing. Maybe a little more kissing. Okay, a lot more kissing, but not by any of those tools. So… changing the subject now. Did you get settled in at Laurel’s?”

  “Yes. Her place is a little small, so I think she’ll be ready to have me out before the week is through, but for now she seems happy I’m here. We’re down at a small bar near her apartment having a few drinks with some of her friends right now. They’re nice and all, but New Yorkers and Angelenos are very different breeds of animal.”

  “This is your first time in the city? How did we not cover this on the plane?” he asked incredulously.

  “We were busy telling each other our life stories, I guess. Yes, this is the first time I’ve been here. I’ve met one or two New Yorkers before, but I guess they had acclimated to the west coast by the time they’d crossed my path. I don’t quite know how to describe the difference.”

  “New Yorkers are more intense. To them, everything they do or say is… important. They have places to go, things to do. L.A. style is different. Nothing matters quite as much, we’ll be somewhere when we get there, whenever that is.”

  “Well, that’s because nothing is going to happen until we get there anyway!” I replied haughtily. Sighing, I continued, “They’re all right. They’re just different. I don’t think they think very much of me, but they haven’t been rude or anything.”

  “In that case, they love you. New Yorkers are rude to everyone. Even the people they like.” Another huff of laughter drifted over the line between us. I let my head fall back against the building and closed my eyes. I had never met anyone like Vance before. There was just an easiness between us, a playfulness that I hadn’t experienced with anyone else. I wanted to hear him laugh all the time. I wanted to be the reason that he laughed. It didn’t make any sense. Intellectually, I was aware that I had only known him a handful of hours, but I felt like my life had already changed somehow.

  “Tomorrow is Monday,” I heard him say. “I have a meeting with our east coast partners in the morning. After that, I'll have a better idea of what my week will look like. I will give you a call in the evening so we can make plans for dinner. Will that work out for you?”

  “Yeah, that'll be fine. Laurel mentioned wanting to do some shopping, which for her means dragging me around all day long, in and out of every store within a five mile radius. I expect tomorrow night we’ll be ordering take out and staying in to recover. I’ll look forward to your call.”

  “Until then, Mimi. Goodnight.” He whispered huskily.

  “Goodnight, Vance.” I breathed back and ended the call.

  Laurel found me still standing against the wall five minutes later, staring off into space, my phone in my hand. She had my purse looped over her shoulder and a knowing look on her face.

  “So, I assume that was the hottie from the airport?” she asked, looking at me over her glasses.

  I nodded. “The very same. He’s going to call tomorrow night, once he knows his schedule for the week so we can make plans.”

  She leaned her shoulder against the wall next to me and crossed her arms across her chest. She studied my face for a moment before she spoke. “He’s different isn’t he? I know you just met him today, but there’s something about the way you look right now. I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen this look on your face.”

  Laurel was one of my oldest friends. We met in the fourth grade, after her family moved to my neighborhood when her father got transferred to the Los Angeles office by the production company he worked for. She’d been trying to get back to New York ever since, finally getting there after we graduated high school when she was accepted to NYU. I hadn’t seen her but for her trips to see her parents for the holidays over the last six years, so this was the first time we were really going to have the opportunity to spend some quality time together, rather than maintaining our relationship through email, texts and Skype. She was working as an assistant editor in a large publishing house, and had a bright future ahead of her. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she was a wild success and our chances for visits like these would be much harder to come by, so I did feel a smidgeon guilty that I’d be stealing a night away to see a guy I’d only just met. But, she was one of the few people who truly knew me. She could read me, my thoughts, my moods, just by looking at my face or studying my body language. Granted, I am a pretty open and expressive person, but she had an eerie knack for being able to pin me down with a mere glance. Like right then.

  “I suppose the Dopey Dwarf impersonation gave me away this time?” I snarked at her.

  “That and the spot of drool on your chin,” she said as she shifted her weight to her other foot, while keeping her shoulder against the wall. “So what’s his deal? Does he have chocolate-flavored nipples?”

  I laughed at her outrageousness and smacked her in the shoulder. “We were so busy talking on the flight, I wasn’t thinking about punching my Mile High Club Card, Whore-rel, but who knows. Maybe by the end of the week, I’ll be able to answer that question.” I said, giving her a sideways grin.

  She jumped up and down, clapping and shouting, “Now who’s the whore?” She grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the wall and handed me my bag. “Let’s go back to the apartment, put on our pajamas and you can tell me all about your plan to inspect his nipples.”

  Vance called again the following night as planned, much to my delight. We arranged to meet Thursday night, for a late dinner, since his meetings were scheduled to run until eight that night. I worried that he might be too exhausted after such a long day, but he insisted.

  He went on to explain a little bit about the deal he was working on, that they were trying to acquire a failing business that had a world-wide presence. Fair Trade laws prevented him from discussing any specifics, but apparently the business was well-known. There were lots of details to hammer out, and the deal had the ability to make or break his career. I instantly shared my misgivings about meeting him, stressing I would be nothing more than a distraction when he should be completely focused on his work.

  “Mimi, I would be more distracted by not being able to see you, thinking about how you are going home in a few days and how I would have to wait another week to before I could spend time with you, than by taking time out and spending one e
vening in your company. Okay? Now relax and just agree to come with me.”

  Selfishly, I was easily swayed by his explanation and greedily agreed to the date.

  We talked long into the night, the conversation eventually turning to how lonely we were as children. Growing up in single parent households with little money, we were both apartment dwellers. There weren’t many children living in either of our buildings, and with no siblings, we didn’t have a lot of opportunities to socialize other than our school hours. Things like video games and computers were impossible luxuries in both of our little families, so we both of naturally gravitated to the only cost-effective, available form of entertainment besides television—books. We were both amused to learn that we discovered the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mysteries at the library when we were in elementary school. While horribly dated, we both devoured each and every one. We admitted that none of our peers fully appreciated our affinity for reading. He shunned his classmates’ love of sports, while I turned away from such girlie activities as shopping, make-up and sleepovers, which only deepened our feelings of isolation. We agreed that the characters in the stories we read became our friends and companions. As we grew older, our tastes diverged. His love for the classics emerged in high school when he developed an unlikely friendship with his eleventh grade Literature teacher. I became something of a romance junkie around the same age, when I finally developed an interest in the opposite sex. Rather than being interested in the boys in my class however, I swooned for the tall, brooding hero with broad shoulders, chiseled jaw and haunting secrets that made him feel unworthy of love.

  “Are you still looking for the same qualities in a man?” Vance asked. I could plainly hear the curiosity in his voice.

  As usual, Vance made me laugh with the question. “I think I have come to realize that a man with haunting secrets is not going to be miraculously healed by the love of a good woman, no matter how great it sounds. Besides, who wants to go through all the angst it takes to get to the happily ever after after? I’ll save all those complications for my book boyfriends. I like my real life men to be a little more well-adjusted. I need someone who is emotionally stable, down to earth and forthright. Most of the men in the books I read don’t really fit that bill.”

  I paused for a moment, screwing up my courage to reverse the question. “What about you? What do you look for in a woman?” I cringed as I not-so-subtly fished for information as to whether or not I might have the potential to be that woman. Sitting there in my pajamas, which consisted of a threadbare t-shirt and a baggy pair of men’s boxers, my hair piled on my head in a sloppy top knot, and my face scrubbed of any traces of make-up, I was grateful he couldn’t see me. I was sure the picture I made was the furthest image from his mind.

  “That’s a question I’m still figuring out the answer to. There are so many things about women to discover, and I hear that there are many things I will never understand.” He chuckled. “But, I do I know what I don’t like in a woman. I don’t like phony. I don’t like gossipy. I don’t like materialistic and pretentious. I don’t like high maintenance, although I do like someone who takes some interest in her appearance. Yes, I like someone who bathes. Hopefully shaves her legs, and if I’m really lucky, a few other spots as well.”

  I giggled. “Do you mean like her upper lip?”

  “Most definitely. Unless she has superior grip strength like our dear friend Bertha at the airport. You’ll recall I was willing to overlook her surprising amount of facial hair in favor of finding out about her other charms. I’m a flexible man, after all.” I can hear his smile through his words as we both grow quiet for a moment.

  When he spoke again, his voice was earnest, almost intense.

  “In all honesty, Mimi, I like someone who is unafraid of her ghosts. Somebody who is able to show me who she is openly and honestly and wants to see me the same way. Someone who can throw open the closet and be willing to let me inspect the skeletons will give me the greatest gift of all—her trust. Obviously, you don’t get to know someone like that overnight, or even over the course of a few months. That level of intimacy takes time, but I like someone who is fearless enough to want to be that vulnerable with someone, someday.

  “I also like a woman with a sense of humor, who understands that no one is getting out of this life alive, so it’s best not to take it too seriously. At the same time, she knows when it’s time to get serious then devotes all her attention to whatever issue, project or problem requires it.

  “I like a woman who has compassion for other people, especially if those people are less advantaged than she is. She knows that not everyone gets a fair shake, no matter how hard they try. Sometimes bad things happen, sometimes you depend on other people and they let you down, who knows. But she knows most people are worthy of a helping hand every now and then and at the very least, she doesn’t look down on those people. At best, she is willing to pitch in and help.”

  “For someone who is still figuring out what he likes, you seem pretty specific.” I said quietly.

  He laughed softly. “Well, I have figured out a thing or two in the last ten years of dating.” I heard him yawn on the other end of the line. “If she doesn’t have any of those qualities, I find that can be overlooked if she has a nice enough rack.”

  “You pig!” I cried as I turned out the light and slid down under the blanket on the sofa. “Here I was all impressed by your speech, only to find out you’re just a misogynist after all!”

  He cracked up, laughing loud and long. “You know I’m only kidding, Mimi. I’m really an ass man.”

  “I’m hanging up now Vance, before you totally annihilate my good impression of you. You’ve done enough damage for one night.”

  The amusement was still in his voice as I heard him murmur. “Goodnight, Mimi. Sweet dreams.”

  Two days of shopping, sight-seeing, one night of partying and one at the theater, a hoard of text messages and a few brief phone conversations stolen between Vance and I later, I begged Laurel to let me rest on Thursday so I wouldn’t look like a haggard slice of death for my date that night.

  We were sitting in her living room sipping coffee that morning, while she pouted, insisting I came to see her, not go on unsanctioned dates that she did not arrange for me. I let her get it out of her system, knowing to do otherwise would just perpetuate the frowning and foot stomping for another fifteen minutes. I would have asked her to find a date and join us, but I really, really wanted to have time with Vance all to myself. I just wasn’t ready to share his attention with anyone else.

  “What happened to “chicks before dicks?” she whined.

  “Oh, please. It’s not like I’m ditching you last minute, or leaving you at some club with only condoms in your purse and five dollars for cab fare. I told you about this as soon as I got off the plane. It’s one night out of six. I think you can manage without me,” I said exasperatedly before taking a long sip of my coffee.

  “I shouldn’t have to.” Her nasally tone reminded me of when we were younger and she wanted swing on the swings when I wanted to play hopscotch.

  “Strap on your chaps, sister, because we’re going eight seconds in the big girl’s rodeo today.” I reached over slapped her knee in mock reprimand. She just rolled her eyes at me.

  “Fine. I suppose I can call that cute hipster boy I met Monday night.”

  Laurel never had a shortage of options to keep her occupied. I saw her exchanging numbers with the guy in question, but she didn’t mention it and I never pressed her for details since meeting guys was something she did with regularity. If there were anything noteworthy about him, she’d have said something. Right then, he was just another potential pony for her stable.

  Looking at me in defeat, Laurel asked, “So, are you wearing the green dress?”

  While we were on our shopping spree, I purchased the cutest little dress for my date with Vance. It was mint green chiffon, with a lightly rouched bodice and flouncy skirt. It had a form-fitted silk li
ning and underskirt. The shoulder straps were covered in rhinestones that shimmered and twinkled when I moved. It flattered my shoulder length blonde hair and really brought out the green in my hazel eyes, making them sparkle.

  “Yes. That’s the plan.” I said, stretching my legs out in front of me. “I am being such a stupid girl, Laurel. I’m sitting here wondering how he will react when he sees me in it. When did I turn into one of those girls? One who cares more about what a guy thinks, than what she thinks herself?”

  “If I didn’t know you better, I’d be disgusted with you too,” she joked. “I think there’s that one guy out there for all of us that brings out our inner fourteen-year-old, though. Remember Pete?”

  I tried to think back through Laurel’s relationships. There hadn’t been too many serious ones. At the time she’d gone on a lot of first and second dates more than anything. I thought Pete may have lasted a couple of weeks, though. “Wasn’t he the bartender?”

  “No, that was Paolo. Pete was a cop. I’m sure he still is.” Her face got this kind of wistful look and I could tell she was remembering something.

  “Oh yes, I remember you went nuts for the whole uniform thing.”

  “Exactly. There was a lot more to it—a lot—but he reduced me to a giggling, simpering fool just by being within a ten-foot radius. I swear, all I had to do was get a whiff of that musky cologne of his, and I set the women’s agenda back by at least twenty years.” She turned to face me and rested her elbow on the back of the sofa, chin in hand. “I ran from him because I thought that was wrong. That he couldn’t possibly be good for me if he changed me like that. It’s been a year, but I’ve never met someone like him that made me feel as good as he did, and I have never been able to get him entirely out of my mind. I’ll sit across from a new guy in a restaurant, at a bar or wherever, listening to them talk and totally tune out to whatever they’re saying. They’re all so boring. Pete? I hung on his every word. He could read me the penal code and I’d probably pay closer attention than a fanboy at the Marvel presentation at ComiCon. I realize that I miss him. So, now, I think maybe being a little girly about a boy maybe isn’t the worst thing in the world. As long as you’re not that way about every boy you meet, it might even be a good thing.”