Part III – She, with the smartass sorcery
With great uncertainty must come greater courage. I think that might be a famous quote or maybe not. Either way I am dealing with a bit of uncertainty as it applies to the comely Miss Tuesday. Case in point, in my jubilation over the mutual agreement on being incommunicado during working hours I never asked the important question…what fucking hours do you work?
I mean, I know she goes to her job doing whatever she does, promptly at eight in the morning. Does she then work a traditional eight hour day…a ten hour day…is there mandatory overtime involved…business dinners? There is only one question looming in my mind. When do I get back in touch with this dazzling beauty? Because I’m not putting it off any longer than absolutely necessary.
Then again, I have shit to do myself. Really important shit like watch a Chicago Cubs day game, two NBA playoff games, and a full slate of evening baseball. Very important things. My things. So, I analyzed the situation and made a calculated decision. I rang her promptly at six in the evening. Immediately I knew I had made the correct decision.
“Hello, Stephen, with a P.” Tuesday’s voice dripped through the phone, sugary like maple syrup.
Quickly, I fired back. “Hello Tuesday…with a T and A.” Whoops. Did I take that a little far? Maybe not, she gave a girlish giggle. Which was alright, but I was, for some inexplicable reason, a bit perturbed and wanted to be forthcoming with one simple request. “Can we stop with the Stephen with P please? It’s rather…I don’t know…condescending.”
Tuesday blurted a laugh. “No Sir! We shall not stop with the Stephen with a P. I particularly like Stephen with a P.” She kept rolling with it. “Stephen with a P is cute. The way you clarified your name for me Stephen with a P. Making sure I never confused you with a Steven with a V or a plain old Steve or a Stevie or Steph…Stephon.”
“I’m at a business mixer Stevie. What else would I be doing?”
“So, you’re still on the clock?”
“In a manner of speaking. Yes, I am.” Tuesday paused. “But, I’d rather be talking to you. Since this is really boring and I’m basically being ignored.”
“Baby’s been put in the corner, huh?”
“Steve-O, are you a Dirty Dancing fan? I might need to reassess you.”
“No, I’m a pop culture fan. It helps with not needing to be inventive with what I say. People get that shit.”
“Not inventive? That’s not a checkmark Stephen.”
Wow, you got my name right.”
Tuesday chortled. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
“How many drinks have you had? You’re a little saucy with the repartee. I’d call it witty repartee…but, nah, it’s more like smartassery.”
“Smartassery?” She mocked. “Is that like smartass sorcery? Because that would be awesomesauce.”
“I’ll bet that mouth gets you in a lot of trouble. How much have you had to drink?”
“I may or may not be on my fourth Cabernet?”
“I told you I was bored and it’s not like I’m not doing exactly what everyone else is doing here. With the exception being, I’m not parading around like a pompous ass. That’s my boss’s job.”
“You sound a little bitter. Exactly what do you do for a living Tuesday?”
“I’m the assistant for an art dealer.”
“Oh. You’re one of those girls that walks two steps behind keeping track of his schedule.”
“Who said he’s a he. Maybe she’s a she…” Tuesday seemed a little riled. “…and I take offense to that description of my job. I basically run the business.”
“You clearly stated…pompous ass. Everyone knows that’s a man. If you worked for a woman, she would have been a raving bitch…or something to that effect.”
“Point taken Sir…and you are correct. He is a he.”
“You certainly like saying Sir. Almost as much as Stephen with a P.”
“Well…blame that on my good southern upbringing.”
“I do have an appreciation for manners. At least you have some…when not engaged in smartassery.”
“There you go with that word again, Stephen.”
“There you go with the manners. You abided with the request to drop the Stephen with a P.”
“Nice pop culture reference.”
“Huge fan of The Big Lebowski. I always dreamed of being Maude Lebowski.” Tuesday’s voice turned posh, quoting straight from the movie. “It’s a male myth about feminists that we hate sex. It can be a natural, zesty enterprise. But unfortunately there are some people - it is called satyriasis in men, nymphomania in women - who engage in it compulsively and without joy. Yes, Mr. Lebowski, these unfortunate souls cannot love in the true sense of the word.”
“Oh sweet Jesus.” I streamed a long breath. “You’re like a dream come true.”
“Or maybe I’m just weird.”
“Weird can be good in appropriate doses.”
Tuesday changed the subject. “So what are you doing later Stephen?”
Interesting. Was she angling for a hookup? “Working.”
“What in the world do you do? Are you a bartender? A waiter? Please don’t be a waiter. A male escort?”
“None of the above.” How exactly do I explain my choice in careers, which was more of an avocation in the eyes of most? “I’m an analyst.”
“What do you analyze day and night.”
“Please say you’re not a Wall Street guy, Stephen with a P. I can’t deal with that.”
“Um…I was. Once. For like six months. Couldn’t stand a minute of it. So now I do my own thing.”
“Enough already. Explain. What’s…” I could almost envision her dainty figures lifting to make air quote, “…your own thing.”
“You want the short answer or the long answer?”
“Just an answer, Mister mysterious. Gawd, are you CIA or something?”
“Oh, hell no. I’m not into overthrowing banana republics in the name of freedom.”
“That’s not an answer. Answer the question. What. Do. You. Do?”
“Can I give the long answer?”
“Just give me an answer before I hang up and never speak to you again.”
“Waiting. Stephen, with a P.” I could imagine Tuesday tapping her toe impatiently for effect.
“Fine, I have a masters degree in applied analytics. But, I couldn’t stand working in an office. All the mundane day in, day out bullshit. So, I went out on my own. Doing something I like.”
“That doesn’t really give me an answer. Sounds like you’re a day trader who dabbles in foreign markets. That’s literally worse than being a Wall Street guy.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Essentially…I’m a gambler.”
“That’s not a real job Stephen.” Tuesday chided.
“I live more than comfortably.”
“May I ask what more than comfortably means? A girl needs to know these things. I don’t want to deal with a guy who is going to be asking for money down the road because he lost a hundred bucks on the Jets game.”
“I don’t wager on pro football. Strictly basketball and baseball.”
“Semantics Stephen. Do you make a living? Or are you living day to day so you don’t have to have a real job?”
That pissed me right off. “It’s a very real job…Miss….what’s your last name?”
“It’s Mahan. Now answer the question and quit dodging.”
“I think…no I know…you’re dodging. What kind of living does Stephen….what’s your last name..make?
“What kind of living does Stephen Jones make?”
Tuesday gave an exasperated laugh. “What does comfortable mean?”
“Where would you want to go this weekend. If you could go anywhere?”
“A beach.” She blurted out an addendum. “…and not the Jersey shore.”
“Ok, name a place with a beach you would want to go to this weekend. I’ll let you know if I can afford it.”
“I could fly you to Bali this weekend. I can afford that.”
“This is all hypothetical. Yes, I could take you on an island vacation this weekend. Tell you to pack your bags, we’re going.”
“Do I need to show you my bank account. You asked for the truth of what I do and if it earned a living. I’m giving you truth.”
“So…we’re going to Bali?”
“Not after all your smartassery. We are, however, going to dinner.”
“I don’t get a choice in this?”
“I like the sound of Bali better.”
“I like the sound of a quiet, late dinner on Friday night better.”
“Not McDonalds, that’s for sure.”
“Better not be a sports bar so you can watch stupid ballgames out of the corner of your eye.”
“We’re going to go elegant.”
“Ohhh, I like elegant. Are we talking Cheesecake Factory?”
“You’re the only cheesecake involved. I’ll text you the details.”
romaincrisis
snowghoul
2087
