Miss Kitty

Miss Kitty - I

Rainy nights are typically the prologue; Mondays are first chapters.

Despite the mileage and the seven years since 12th grade, I can’t shake the underlying feelings of doubt. “Fitting in” wasn’t the mantra, it was finding my idealized self. Seminars, self-help books, the gym is where I started in the first years of college. Incrementally, I emulated the best in each grade. At a rapid pace, the regimen expanded into dental work, salon haircuts, my first BMW. I adopted a path because it was the path I felt most comfortable moving towards. It was a calling, in the worst sense of the word, in hindsight, because, wouldn’t you know it: I felt empty at the reflection that had no resemblance to the timid child at Coyote Valley High.

Now I’m stuck. My friends don’t give a fuck, since, to the circle I have, this is it. This, in its own small way, is the apex of our world. The eastern edge of Tustin, among the decorative sage and stunted pepper trees, the air is always filled with the overwhelming smells of nature and civilization. The air was clean, the clouds, when they were here, never interrupted the day, only accentuating it. This is Southern California.

We hung out on weekends, my little band and me. We knew we were the hottest guys in the room, so we upped the ante in Cabo, then Oahu, then M Carlo. We screwed with every rich lush we could, although I have always been the most reserved. But I did fuck. Don’t get me wrong; I pounded hard enough to forget Miss Kitty as best I could. I drank, and gym’d, and raced, and boarded first class and sipped top-shelf looking over a naked 10 on wrinkled Egyptian cotton, watching the sun set over K’uali’le.

Not to belabor a point. On top of the world, and it would come back: I have to stop. The scenarios would race through so quickly: her fat and pregnant with some Joe that treated her like shit, me with a 10 on my arm and her as a cleaning lady clinging to her cart on a long elevator ride to the penthouse, she teary eyed watching me roll by in my car…not very kind at all.

But, time has moved on, I’ve moved on…it’s time. Time to throw away everything and just say ‘that’s it, I’m done with you’.

Don’t even know how I got to work as I pulled up to the industrial block. I hate getting into describing what we do: it’s about as boring a conversation that I sum up in a sentence for folks who must ask: “We make hyper-efficient circuit boards for high-end commercial mobile (everything is mobile these days) products.” I don’t go into how I helped co-venture an enterprise of highly commoditized elements into a single end-to-end solution for accurate print boards. I could say we have a lucrative deal with Uncle Sam and for high-tech communication gear, but that starts to interfere with confidentiality. Again, it’s about as boring a process you can get, unless you’re an applied chemist. We don’t have a logo on the building and I don’t have a business card if you get my drift.

The first thing is Vincent, the lab manager, running up to me in a tizzy. The isotonic solution to bath number eight (one of the last baths in the sequence) had stopped supplying the necessary amount of water to adequately…*snore. Anyway, it’s Monday. “Mind if I put my stuff down?” said in declarative rhetorical.

The only thing to note this week, after the four hours to re-establish bath number eight, was on Thursday.

...

It was ladies night at the Hook, a local surf and turf with a bar that streamed in the local tech talent. You had your engineers, your scientists, your manufacturing leads, and any ladies that could stomach the asinine conversations that spew from their self-indulgent mouths.

What’s attracted me lately is someone who can actually have a conversation that goes beyond the blather of pop culture (there is more). A striking red head with smart brown eyes caught mine and I broke up the conversation of obvious server cluster jockeys. They wilted when I walked up, and her, in all her perky glory straightened up. She was obviously excited, so I had the upper hand. She was unaccustomed to directness from a male, I sensed this as well as she averted her eyes for just a half a breath before exhaling and looking at me.

“Sorry to interrupt gentlemen, but I don’t think I’ve had the honor of meeting…you.” I put out my hand and she blushed. This is too fucking easy (settle down, settle down). “We’re regulars and I’ve been assigned the welcoming committee.”

For some reason, this is the part where the entire place starts to get loud(er). I don’t know what it is, but every time I start up something, the decibel level starts to rise. I swear it can’t be me.

“What’s your name?” I like her voice. I like her eyes. I like the soft feel of her hand, she is feminine, and who doesn’t like feminine?

I tell her mine and ask the same.

“Rebecca.” Now it’s my turn to get excited. I love that name. My excitement is hidden though.

“Well, Rebecca, may I get you and your friends a round? I work down the street and we’re pretty well plugged in. Rumor has it there’s a new crew over off of building 1700, I’ll take a stab in the dark and say you’re with Ayres?”

The men shifted in their seats, they were defensive. One spoke up, “That’s us.”

“Nice. Welcome to our little place, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” I went around the room and told them each little group’s company in clumps. I asked their order and retained it in neat little bins in my head. I got up to leave, I’m not an asshole…let them get comfortable.

“Now, we’re all friends…and I expect to see you guys Thursday evenings.” They shifted in relief that I was short and sweet and smiled as best as a tech can. “And…you…I hate to be forward, but I’d like to talk sometime away from here.”

She nodded; it was too loud to say anything other than a shout. It was understandable and I was honestly interested. I smiled again and walked back to the bar and ordered their drinks at the well.

Rebecca felt like a first, I had to mask my excitement and I made sure not to make eye contact again that night. She left first, thank goodness. Rebecca had my attention and I was going to play it slow. If I was forced to say what it was, Rebecca was the first time I had been interested in some one, I’m not sure what yet.

I was awaiting for next Thursday to come.