Good Vibrations Read online

  “Well, make sure you wear something that will get his mind off his bumper and on to yours. Sam’s back in town so I’m letting him take me for a ride tonight. Don’t wait up,” Elyse said with a lascivious grin.

  Sam was a gorgeous Maori stud and their relationship had been the closest Elyse had come to a meaningful relationship since I had known her. He also happened to be a pilot with an executive jet service so he was out of town most of the time with work. It was an arrangement that seemed to work well for both of them given their busy, and non-exclusive, social calendars.

  “Have fun flying the friendly skies,” I grinned back at her, already looking forward to a nice warm bath and a glass of my favourite pinot noir.

  Then, just as I was easing in to the water, my phone started to buzz. I looked down and read:

  "I’m still feeling some good vibrations from this morning. Hope you run in to me again soon. Sweet dreams belle.”

  Aww, this was shaping up to be the best car accident ever! Please, please, please let new bumpers be cheap enough that I can go shoe shopping before I see him again.

  Anyone who thinks sitting in a church can make you a Christian must also think that sitting in a garage can make you a car – Garrison Keillor

  5. Ugh, waking up alone in the middle of winter is absolutely no fun at all. There should be a national holiday for all of January so that everyone can head south, get some sun and not have to deal with this decidedly unfriendly shoe weather.

  As I padded towards the washroom, still half asleep, out of nowhere I heard, “Hey Anna, love the rabbits.”

  Startled, I looked up and noticed that Sam had emerged from Elyse’s room and was staring at my feet with a broad grin stretched across his face as he checked out my morning attire.

  Running into Elyse’s practically naked boy toy while I was decked out in my bunny slippers and a flannel nightgown was in no way improving the start to my day.

  Mental note, no shared washrooms in my future.

  “Hey Sam, it’s good to see you again. Did you and Elyse have a nice ride last night?”

  “Did we ever!” Elyse replied for him as she emerged from the bedroom, stepping between us before running her nails along Sam’s sculpted stomach.

  “The snow kept us grounded but Sam had a bottle of Dom in the back and then we...”

  “Then we watched the snow dance like the light dances in your eyes, right Ataahua?” Sam added, reaching his massive arms around her and muzzling her before she could spill any juicy details about their night.

  For all her endearing qualities, Elyse’s lack of an internal filter occasionally made for some painfully intimate conversations.

  Sam’s attempt to suppress yet another uncomfortably detailed conversation was something for which I was eternally indebted to him.

  “Mmm, if you keep talking to me like that, you’re going to have to take me up for another ride before I let you go,” Elyse said, pushing Sam forcefully back towards her bedroom.

  “So Anna,” she continued, as she turned to look back at me over her shoulder, “is tonight the night you finally get rid of Ricky?”

  Ricky. My soon to be, but not quite soon enough, ex (otherwise begrudgingly known as my current boyfriend) was an engineer who had come up from Argentina a few years to work for a large, multi-national gold company.

  With a head full of dark, curly hair, smouldering eyes and a wicked accent, Ricky was achingly pretty to look at and he completely lit me up every time he so much as brushed the hair away from my face with his hand.

  Unfortunately, every time he opened his mouth he churned my insides in a whole different way.

  Ricky had been brought up in a strict Catholic household and those values had taken a firm hold on him. I had also put in my time on Sundays in my youth and I wasn’t one to judge regardless of what one did or didn’t believe in. Unfortunately for me, the only time he ever seemed to stop talking about how he wanted to be with a good Catholic girl and how important values and family were to him, it was to tell me mind-numbingly boring details about his job or his next project.

  Talk about your no-win situation!

  Sadly, my own Sunday school experiences apparently had made me a satisfactory candidate for him. However, my own views on spirituality and my live and let live beliefs left me wishing that I could just gag him, ride him, and then get the hell out of there before I had to listen to another 15 minute monologue on why people of different religious backgrounds don’t work.

  Sigh.

  “This is the last time. One quick drink and I’m going to explain to him that things are not going to work out between us and that he’s getting the boot. He’s like the evil twin brother of the guy in that Dos Equis commercial; he’s the least interesting man in the world! There is no amount of liquor that can get me through another night of trying to get that man to loosen up,” I replied, my stomach already churning at the thought of having to spend another evening in his company.

  Even though I had managed to put his lips to better uses on a number of occasions, sadly, I had only managed to convince him to take things further than that a handful of times.

  While my memories of those rare nights still managed to raise the humidity level in the room every time I let those thoughts creep into my imagination, the agony of the conversations the next morning had left me promising myself that I would end it once and for all. Caving in again was not an option tonight.

  After all, there were only so many times I could replay True Blood episodes in my head while that man droned on!

  Having left Elyse in Sam’s very capable hands, I managed to safely navigate my drive to work with at least one hand firmly on the wheel at all times and with coffee only touching my lips briefly and while at a full and complete stop.

  Sadly, there was no sign of my new friend anywhere in sight during my drive. Then it suddenly dawned on me that I had left him without his wheels for the time being.

  As I strode through the doors at a respectable 8:03 a.m., Veronica was standing in front of my desk, her hands seemingly clasped behind her back.

  “Look what arrived for you,” she said, pushing a gorgeous bouquet of oriental lilies towards me that she had been shielding from view.

  “When you crunch someone’s car, you get flowers. When I do it, I get a trip to traffic court and a new insurance company. Tell me how that’s fair?” she huffed before letting out a resigned sigh.

  “I may have accidentally glanced at the name on the card,” she continued, smiling at me as she handed me a note.

  I snatched the note from her excitedly, finding the following:

  To whom it may concern:

  On January 21, 2012, my vehicle was violently and brutally maimed by a woman in a caffeine-fuelled collision (shot in the dark here, but you wrote your number on the back of a Starbucks receipt ). Even in my woozy condition, it became apparent that I had suffered irreparable physical damage to my cardiac muscle as my assailant looked criminally angelic in the falling snow and spoke with a wickedly tremulous voice that I just can’t get out of my head.

  You are hereby notified that I will be commencing action for both compensatory damages for my physical pain and punitive damages for the mental anguish caused by having to speak to that shrill older woman who insisted that I take a statement from her in case court proceedings were required.

  However, if you wish to avoid a lengthy and vigorous court battle, I am willing to accept the following settlement:

  As you appeared to suffer the loss of most of your coffee, I think we can say that we’re even on the bumper.

  You agree to keep your eyes on the road in the future, just in case I take an interest in your future well-being.

  You agree to let me take you to Chambar on Friday at 8. I will drive, for the safety of all parties involved.

  Should you wish to agree to all settlement terms proposed hereunder, you may reply, post haste, to (604) 555-0396.

  Regards,

  Jonathan />
  “Well?” Veronica asked, looking at me expectantly, “What does it say?”

  “I think it’s saying that I need to go shopping,” I replied, still stunned by what I had read, but a broad smile eventually emerging. “Not only is he covering the cost of the bumper repair, but he wants to take me to Chambar on Friday night.”

  “Seriously? That’s unbelievable! How hard did you hit this guy?” she retorted with a laugh. “The next time it snows, I’m just going to cruise around looking for a cute guy to bump into.”

  “Well, just in case whomever you find is already taken or not quite as forgiving as Jonathan, I’d say aim for a guy with a truck so you can avoid a few sleepless nights spent wondering how you’re going to be able to pay both your rent and a repair bill. Now scoot! I have to accept this offer before he realizes he’s a lawyer and he’s not supposed to be this nice!”

  My heart had been pounding so furiously as I had read Jonathan’s note that I was legitimately worried I was going to pass out. I had been expecting the worst and it was such a huge relief to realize that I wasn’t going to have to hawk any of my shoes to cover the repair bill.

  And he even had great taste in flowers.

  Or his assistant did.

  Perhaps it’s just as well if he wasn’t that metro anyway?

  Okay girl, deep breath; here we go...

  “Jonathan Hunter speaking, how can I help you?” Jonathan’s deep voice sounded strained and his words flew at me quickly.

  “Well hello there. I’m surprised you answer you own calls Mr. Hunter,” I replied saucily.

  “Ah, what an unexpected treat to hear your voice on the other end of the line,” he replied, his voice immediately taking on a more relaxed tone.

  “I received an urgent settlement offer this morning and, after deliberating with my counsel, I thought I should call to discuss the terms,” I responded, struggling to keep the excitement out of my voice.

  “Did you find the terms of my offer to be fair?”

  “Hmm, well that depends. Was that the full extent of the settlement? There isn’t any expectation that you will be filing your briefs on my nightstand Friday night is there?”

  I was being a bit cheeky, and I wasn’t even entirely sure that I would be opposed to that notion, but I wanted to silence that little voice in the back of my head that was wondering exactly what he was expecting in return for covering the repair costs.

  “No, not at all. The letter contained the full extent of my offer. If new facts arise at dinner, then I’ll present my case to you and you can render your verdict in due course, but as far as the accident goes, we’re all square and there are zero expectations in terms of any form of repayment,” he replied, sounding relatively sincere about it.

  That could all be BS of course, but at least it was the right BS.

  “Okay, well in that case, I’m at 909 Richards Street. Give me a ring when you’re close and I’ll pop down. Thank you for the flowers by the way. They’re beautiful,” I replied, my mind already drifting towards thoughts of what I was going to wear to dinner.

  “I’m glad you liked them. The florist told me they represent purity. I thought it was appropriate given the snow flakes and such that brought us together.”

  So he did buy them himself.

  Interesting.

  Metro or not, it wasn’t a bad start on his part.

  “That’s so sweet of you. I’m looking forward to Friday,” I said, the excitement in my voice completely genuine.

  “Likewise, and I’ll see you then,” Jonathan replied before hanging up.

  This wasn’t turning out to be such a bad week after all. And, better yet, now I really did have a reason to go shopping!

  It is long accepted by missionaries that morality is inversely proportional to the amount of clothing people wore – Alex Carey

  6. Later that night, I found myself opening the door to Bishop’s having spent far too much time in front of the mirror and showing a bit more cleavage than I had originally intended.

  I had always hoped that I could get Ricardo to loosen up a bit and display any semblance of a personality. But as I walked up to our table, my date with Jonathan lined up for Friday, I was already wishing that I had forgone makeup, thrown on a turtle neck, ate, and then dropped him like the bad habit that he was, once and for all.

  “I was starting to worry,” Ricky said as he stood up to greet me, his smouldering brown eyes staring at me intently.

  Ricky was an incessant worrier. The last time he had picked me up, he had arrived 10 minutes early and I got out of the shower to find three increasingly concerned voicemails.

  Every man should know by the age of twenty-five that promptness from one’s date was like an unexpected wonder, sort of like a solar eclipse. You express gratitude for it when it occurs and should not expect a reoccurrence anytime in the next year or so.

  On the other hand, showing up early was more akin to provoking a natural disaster similar in nature to a volcanic eruption and you did not want to be one of the fleeing villagers!

  Ricky clearly was unaware of these basic facts of life, and seriously, who has the time to properly train a man these days?

  “Well, that’s sweet of you, but I was just a bit delayed due to all the snow. Have you ordered any wine yet?” I inquired with more optimism than previous dates with Ricky should have engendered.

  “No, I was on the phone with my new manager and I just got a new project. We’re going to be creating a new gravel crushing procedure. I’ve been so excited to tell you about it.”

  “That’s great. Why don’t we order some wine first and then you can tell me about it.”

  Is it bad form to order multiple bottles at once? I really should have done something productive at work today and come up with some plausible excuses to get me out of here as soon as possible.

  Something biblical would probably work. I wonder what body part I would have to slice off for him to believe I have leprosy?

  “I’ll order some when the waitress comes by. But listen, because we’re getting deeper into the mine, we have to create a higher-pressure system to crush and extract the gravel. I’m going to have to find a way to increase the pressure without compromising the integrity of the machines,” he replied, with a gleam in his eye that suggested that this agonizing conversation was going to continue full steam ahead, with no end in sight in the foreseeable future.

  Great, he’s crushing rocks. Didn’t Fred Flintstone master that job about 70 years ago? I wonder what exactly Wilma had done to make Fred go ‘yabba dabba do’ all the time?

  “Basically, right now our gravel is about this size,” Ricky said, holding his thumb and forefinger in a circle, “and due to the pressure at that depth and the composition of the rock, I need to modify the crusher so that it’s about this size,” holding his fingers together in a slightly smaller circle.

  “Do you get it?” he asked, still staring intently at me.

  No, and I’ve only gotten it three times in the two months this brutal ordeal has lasted you pompous dill-hole. So, before I hand you your walking papers, how about we get out of here and you can give it to me one last time while I cover your mouth with my hands so I can truly enjoy the experience?

  “I think so. You need to find a way to make the gravel smaller without breaking anything?” I responded whilst doing my best to feign the slightest interest in his rock crushing story.

  Where was that wine already? Are there courses on flirting I can send him to? Maybe Elyse could sign up as a guest lecturer for the people that successfully complete the beginner class.