Fighting Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 2)

by Guimond, Heather

  “Every time before I leave, I’m going to make sure you don’t forget about me. Get used to it, Kitten.”

  I marveled for a minute as he turned and strode down the walk way. Just before he jumped back into his car, I hollered, “Don’t call me Kitten!”

  Seven

  Tuesday morning, I woke early in anticipation for my first class that evening. Since the program I signed up for was catered to working adults, the classes were held in the evening. I didn’t know what to do with myself until seven p.m. when I would rejoin society as I liked to think of it. It’s not that I’d become a hermit or anything, at least not since the first year after Vance died, but I definitely spent a lot of time at home. I hoped that not only would this set me on a new path to a career I enjoyed, I also wanted to make a few more friends. I loved my girls, don’t get me wrong. Grace, Jessica, and Liz were awesome people that I enjoyed spending time with, but they had their own lives, too. They all worked full-time and were single and taking advantage of that fact. I needed more friends to help keep me occupied, and hopefully I’d meet one or two who didn’t have day jobs.

  The day passed interminably slow. The only thing that occurred to break up the monotony was a call from Justin to wish me luck. It was a quick call as he was on his way to visit a client who wanted an in-person meeting with him presenting the website he’d designed for them. He thought it was a bullshit waste of time, but I reminded him happy customers tend to refer other customers. He just grunted in response. We confirmed we were still on for our customary movie, pizza, and beer for the following evening. I was glad that my classes were Tuesdays and Thursdays. That way, Justin and I didn’t have to do any special maneuvering of our schedules.

  Finally, the evening came, and I made sure to arrive early. While I was waiting outside of the classroom for the instructor a dark-haired woman approached me. She was lovely with long, straight hair, big dark brown eyes—so dark you could barely see the pupil—and olive skin. She was beautiful in an exotic way, petite in height, but with a knock-out figure. She was so attractive I nearly questioned my own sexuality for a split second.

  “Hi,” she began. “I’m hoping I’m in the right place, this campus is so huge. I’m looking for the Principles of Fundraising class.”

  “I sure hope this is the right place because that’s what I’m here for too,” I responded with a grin.

  She laughed. “Oh good. If we’re wrong, well look like dumb newbies together.”

  “We can lessen the humiliation by distributing it evenly between us,” I suggested.

  “Oh, hell no. I plan to point to you and lay the blame squarely on your shoulders,” she said with a wink. She stuck out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Delia Ortega.”

  “You have a strange way of making friends, Delia Ortega, but I like it. I’m Mimi Ashcroft.”

  “It’s great to meet you, Mimi. Are you currently working for a non-profit?” she asked.

  “Oh no, I’m not working right now at all, but that’s my eventual goal. I used to be a paralegal, however. How about you?” I replied as I adjusted the strap of my laptop case on my shoulder.

  She leaned against the wall of the building next to me and shook her head. “No, I’m not working either. I was in accounting for a long while but a recent disability ended that. I need to get on a new path now, one that’s a little more…emotionally satisfying, shall we say.”

  I nodded. “It’s important to like what you do. I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out what I wanted to do.”

  “That’s a good while,” she said as the instructor came and unlocked the door to the class room. We and the other people who had been milling about outside followed her in and took seats. I sat midway from the front, and Delia chose a seat next to me.

  The next two hours were spent with a discussion of what we could expect from the class, along with a review of the syllabus. The professor’s name was Angela Ferguson, and she invited us to refer to her as Angela. It was clear she had an informal style of teaching which immediately put me at ease. At my age, it was hard to imagine I’d be referring to anyone as Mr. or Ms., but I might not feel so strange calling them Professor. At any rate, that dilemma was removed by Angela on that first night.

  She launched into the initial principles of fundraising, and I took copious notes on my laptop. Next to me, Delia was merely listening, not taking notes at all, which I thought was odd. I supposed she might be one of those people with an excellent memory, but I’d never met anyone who could assimilate information that quickly and have complete recall. If that was her situation, I was terribly envious.

  The time flew by and before I knew it we were being dismissed for the evening. As Delia and I were filing out behind the other students, I commented on her lack of note taking. She smiled and said, “I’ve found that everything I’ve ever needed to know if I couldn’t recall it from the lecture, is available in the text materials and from developing relationships with good study partners.”

  I found this remarkably clever and a little lazy at the same time. However, I liked Delia so far. She seemed friendly and to have a good sense of humor. I wouldn’t mind being her study partner if she was interested. If we could get a group together, it might be a good thing so I suggested as much to her.

  “I was hoping you’d say that. If you hadn’t, I would have. Since we have classes Tuesdays and Thursdays, what do you say we get together on Wednesday nights?” she suggested.

  “I’m sorry, I have standing plans on Wednesday nights. Until we get other people to join us, we can do it during the daytime hours or we could do it Monday nights.”

  She gave me a frown which seemed out of place but then immediately brightened. “Okay, let’s do it Wednesday afternoons until we meet others who are interested.” She took out her cell phone as we walked toward the parking lot and asked for my number. She called me so I could save her number into my phone’s contacts list. With that accomplished, we parted ways and walked to our separate cars. I felt buoyant. Not only had I taken my first step toward my new life, I’d made a new friend which made two of my most immediate objectives accomplished.

  The following night Justin showed up at my house with an extremely large pizza loaded with every type of meat the restaurant offered. “Are you exceptionally hungry and low on protein or something?” I teased.

  “I don’t know what it is,” he said, placing the pizza on the kitchen island and retrieving two plates. “I am famished, and I just couldn’t decide on which toppings to get so I got them all.”

  I walked to the refrigerator and retrieved two Coronas which I knew was his beer of choice. Popping off the tops with a bottle opener, I handed him one, and then took a sip of mine. He handed me a plate with two enormous slices on it and took one with I didn’t know how many slices for himself.

  We settled in the living room putting our plates and bottles on the coffee table. Justin immediately dove into his pizza while I picked the toppings off mine and popped them into my mouth. I thought for sure if I tried to pick up the slice it would all collapse into a messy heap in my lap. I stood back up and retrieved a roll of paper towels to use as napkins as I had a sneaking suspicion this was going to be a very messy endeavor. Sure enough, as I walked back into the living room, Justin was picking a piece of sausage off his shirt. I peeled off a towel and handed it to him.

  “Thanks, Peaches. I think I might have gone a bit overboard, but damn, if this isn’t tasty.”

  “I don’t know how you think we’re going to finish this all off,” I said, sitting back down and finally daring to pick up one of my slices. I was able to manage it since it was no longer as heavy as it first was, but it was still a delicate procedure.

  “Peaches, you underestimate how much food it takes to keep this god-like body of mine going.” He smirked as he took another enormous bite of his slice.

  “If you eat this much food, the only way you’ll be going is if I roll you out of here,” I responded with a wink, “and wi
th what you already weigh, I don’t think I have the strength to move you three inches.”

  “Then you better eat up, too.”

  “Ugh. I don’t know if I’ll get through these two slices,” I said, clutching my stomach in mock agony.

  Justin took another bite and looked at me thoughtfully. Once he had chewed and swallowed, he asked, “So how did school go?”

  “It was great! I really enjoyed it, and the professor is super casual. She wants us to call her by her first name. Oh! I made a new friend already, too. She seems to be about my age, maybe a few years younger. She’s very pretty and has a great sense of humor. We’re going to be study partners.”

  “That’s awesome,” he said, putting his plate down. “I’m glad you’ve finally found something you want to do and are expanding your horizons. This will be great for you.”

  I also put my plate down and took a sip of my beer, then nodded as I swallowed. “I think you’re absolutely right. I haven’t been this excited in a long time.”

  “Well baby girl, here’s to you,” he said, holding his bottle up to clink with mine.

  Two hours later, we were still feeling full from the monster pizza and had watched another one of Justin’s signature action flicks. Next week it would be my turn to pick the movie. As I walked him to the door, I thought of making him sit through a rom-com just to pay him back for the indigestion I was going to suffer that night. Considering he ate three quarters of the pizza himself, maybe he’d suffer enough on his own. Besides, that would have meant I’d have to sit through it too, and I wasn’t really a rom-com kind of girl.

  As we reached the door, Justin took hold of my hand and pulled me toward him. Frankly, I had been a little surprised that he hadn’t really tried to show me any affection during the movie, what with his declaration the week before. Nevertheless, I went to his arms willingly as he wrapped me in a tight embrace. He pulled back slightly and tipped up my chin.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he whispered, “but I told you I’d take things slow. I just can’t leave here without at least a kiss.” Then he proceeded to fit his lips to mine and give me a long, slow kiss that had me arching into him. He slid his hand up my back to the back of my head. He tilted it to the side even more and deepened the kiss, his tongue licking sensually against mine. When he pulled away, I was dazed and couldn’t immediately open my eyes. He chuckled softly as he trailed a fingertip down my cheek.

  Breathlessly, I whispered, “Wow. That was something.”

  “It certainly was, and I promise you there’s a whole lot more something to look forward to, Peaches.”

  I nodded in reply, unable to say anything more. He turned the doorknob and walked out into the night while I stood there stupefied. I barely managed to choke out a goodnight to him as he strode down the walkway to his new car.

  The rest of the week I was busy with homework assignments from my Thursday-night class. It was mostly just reading, but as committed as I was to succeeding in the program, I read through the material three times with my trusty highlighter in hand.

  On Saturday evening, I received a call from Delia wanting to know if I’d like to join her at a local restaurant for drinks. I hadn’t heard from any of the girls, James, or Justin, and I was excited to get to know Delia better, so I immediately agreed.

  When I arrived, about five minutes late as usual, she was already seated at the bar. I greeted her with a quick hug and sat down.

  “Hi, Mimi. I would have ordered for you, but I didn’t know what you like to drink,” she said with smile.

  “Well with me you can never go wrong with a Dirty Martini, preferably with Ketel One. I’ve been trying to branch out, though. So far, it’s only been a Greyhound.” We both laughed. “Tonight, I think I’ll try something different and not vodka based. If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears.”

  Delia held up her glass which was a long, thin cylinder. “I’m partial to Long Island Iced Tea, but I don’t know if that’s something you’d want to have. It’s not for a cheap date.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by ‘cheap date.’ I was a little uncomfortable with it, and I must have frowned because she started giggling.

  “Mimi, a cheap date is someone who can’t hold their liquor. I don’t mean anything else by it.” She smiled, but to me it had a note of insincerity. I chalked it up to me just not being fully accustomed to her sense of humor yet and shrugged it off.

  “I am really only a social drinker, but I guess I do my fair share. But, you may be right. A Long Island might be a bit too much for a girl like me. Let’s just say I’m an average date.”

  She muttered something, but I didn’t quite catch it. She brightened, then asked, “What do you think you’ll choose tonight, ‘average-date Mimi’?”

  I waved the bartender over and ordered a Juan Collins, which was similar to a Tom Collins but with tequila instead of gin. The bartender gave me a sly grin and started mixing my drink. He was handsome, but I doubted he was far out of college. Nevertheless, I gave him my best flirty smile back in the hope he’d make my drink with a little extra punch.

  Delia watched our exchange in fascination. “I think he likes you, Mimi,” she said as she leaned over to me. I nodded my agreement and she continued, “You totally need to get his number. He looks delicious with that blond hair and those green eyes. Plus, you know the reputation bartenders have.”

  “What, they are prime ground for STDs?” I joked. Everyone knew bartenders had their pick of willing girls.

  She shoved me in the shoulder and laughed. “No! Just that they’re very experienced and know what it’s like to have a good time.”

  I laughed with her. “I think I’m going to pass this time. I seem to have my hands full in that department already.”

  Again she gave me a momentary scowl, then as quick as it appeared, it was gone. “Is that right? Do dish the dirt at any time, girlfriend. Let the bonding begin!”

  Just what I needed. Another Grace or Jessica. In the interest of forging a new friendship, I jumped into the details with her. I told her all about my current situation with James and Justin, which she sat listening to with rapt attention.

  “This James sounds really hot. If I were you, I’d pick him,” she said as she picked a cherry out of the garnish tray and bit it off from the stem.

  “I think it’s a little early for me to pick between one or the other. Justin seems serious, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that and he’s my best friend. I wouldn’t want to ruin that. Besides, I really like James a lot. So, for now I’m just going to see where my heart leads me. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”

  “How can you say that? You’re still single,” she said looking at me as if that was the most horrible thing in the world. It also brought me to that dreaded explanation of my past.

  I launched into a description of the last four years of my life. “So, you see, I made the best choice of all. I wouldn’t trade those two years for anything in the world,” I said.

  “It sounds so sad, though. Maybe now that you’re ready, you should be playing the field after all.”

  I shuffled around on my stool as I thought about that. “I don’t know if I’m a playing-the-field sort of woman. I’m uncomfortable enough having emerging feelings for two men as it is.”

  “Hell, Mimi. Who says you have to have feelings for them. Aside from a little lust, anyway,” she returned with a wink. More and more she was reminding me of Grace. It made me laugh. I lifted my drink and toasted to her. “I doubt I can separate feelings from sex, but if you can, Delia, more power to you my friend.”

  She just laughed and took another gulp of her drink.

  Eight

  The weeks began to blend into each other, and before I knew it, it was mid-August and my birthday was approaching. I had been seeing both Justin and James regularly. Justin and I were still moving slowly, but in addition to our weekly Wednesday pizza and beer nights, we’d fit in a night out or two. We would go out to d
inner, of course, but we also did whimsical things like play miniature golf or go to his house and play games on his PlayStation 4. We also had a couple group dates with our friends, Griffin and Bryant, and whomever they were seeing at the time. They had come to accept me again, if not forgive me, for my separation with Vance. They still didn’t know the whole truth about what I had gone through with Vance, and I had sworn Justin to secrecy. I didn’t want the world to know about the depth of the ugliness that had surfaced during his illness. His memory didn’t need to be scarred by that.

  James. Well, James was something else. I realized that in a lot of ways he had somehow retained the joy of a child. Not to say he was childish in anyway, but he had a sophomoric sense of humor (something that I often shared) and loved to try new things. There seemed to be nothing he wasn’t game for. Our most memorable date by that point was when he got us tickets to a well-known TV game show. We had to dress up in these bizarre costumes to try to get noticed and selected as contestants. James dressed as a garbage bag. He essentially cut holes in a Hefty bag, stuffed it with newspaper, and cinched it at his neck making sure some of the paper was falling out. He literally crowned the costume with a banana peel draped across his head. Needless to say, he was selected for the game portion of the show. He got up there with the host with so much enthusiasm. He was hooting and bouncing up and down, ready to play. He ended up winning a hot tub which I thought extremely funny since he there wasn’t exactly a place for him to put it at his house. Kindly, he donated it to a charity benefitting disabled veterans so they could sell it or raffle it off which brought me to a whole other side of him.

  James was an extremely sentimental and compassionate man. He marked the day that we met on his calendar and every month since then, he’d sent me flowers on that date to celebrate. He also donated a few hours of his time each week at the VA helping out wherever they needed him, be it cleaning floors or simply visiting with hospital inpatients. I teased him about being a camo-striper rather than a candy striper, but inside I was touched beyond compare. We’d grown closer emotionally, and more and more I was drawn to him. It didn’t hurt that our mutual lust for one another still burned like a wildfire. This raised a third side.