Chapter Forty
More Than a Feeling
I finally escaped the Giardino Comedy Hour and high tailed it over to Earl’s place. Earl lived in suburban heaven in Shadow Creek Eagle Estates about three minutes from the plant. I had noticed shadows there before but had yet to spot an eagle or find a creek. His house was a nice rather new brick and Hardiplank story and a half estate on a wooded lot. Well, not exactly an estate but not a shack either. It pretty much represented the American dream, especially for a great dude like Earl. Jen and Dusty were in rockers wearing stylish straw hats on the front porch when I pulled up in Dream On (my new red Lexus IS 250). If they were drinking sarsaparilla tea, I swear I was going to pull out my banjo and play a little Foggy Mountain Breakdown.
I think I had a slight cardiac infarction when Dusty stood and sauntered over. I would have brought my black suit if I had known we were attending a funeral. I mean she absolutely murdered those jeans. A proper burial would be the only respectable thing to do.
“Nice wheels, Mick.”
“Yeah, you too Dusty.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, are we ready to rock and roll?”
At that moment the front door banged open and Earl came stumbling down the porch steps with enough luggage for a two week cruise.
“There's sixteen miles to Lake Lure, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark out, and we're wearing sunglasses.”
“Ok, Mick. Let’s swat it.”
The correct Blues Brothers’ response was “Hit it”, but that was pretty damned close for Earl.
After I convinced Earl that he and Jen’s entire wardrobe wasn’t needed for a two day get away, we packed up his 4Runner with half of what he originally brought, my small overnight case and Dusty’s shoulder bag. That was all she had. It had enough room for a short nightie and small bikini which, I think, exceeded the mandated weekend wardrobe requirements.
We pulled away with Dusty and me in the back seat and Earl and Jen in the front doing a tortured sing-a-long with Rocky Mountain High playing on Earl’s eight track. Yes, I said eight track. I think he is the last human being to have a functioning one. It didn’t sound half bad, at least compared to their singing. In my heart, I knew this was a co-worker just friends weekend. But in my head (both north and south) J Geils’ Angel in the Centerfold kept repeating over and over.
The ride up to Lake Lure consisted of discussions about work and my poor puns and jokes. I think I might have thought I was slightly funnier than Dusty did (or Earl and Jan did for that matter). Earl occasionally took a curve too fast or hit a large bump in the road. This resulted in co-joining Dusty’s left thigh with my right thigh. I have never wanted to kiss Earl more. About twenty miles from the cabin, Dusty steered the conversation back to work again.
“Ok, Earl, I know you are the guts of the financial department at the plant. But aren’t you also the one that keeps the computer systems humming?”
“I guess you could say that.”
A humble Earl? This was too much. “C’mon, Earl. Don’t be shy. Without you we’d still be using Big Chief tablets and Pentels.” There’s another Google opportunity for you Gen-Xers and -Yers out there.
“Ah, Mick, keep that up and I might get a thick head.”
“Earl, do you also handle computer security? Do you have safeguards that would keep hackers out, etc.”
“Yeah, we installed a pretty good software package for that.”
“Have you ever tested it?”
Sweet Jesus. Earl hit a pothole the size of the Grand Canyon. When we landed, Dusty’s head was on my shoulder and my arm was wrapped protectively around her.
“Oops. Sorry.”
“Earl, you do that again and I’ll ensure you get promoted on Monday.”
Did I really say that? It brought a laugh from all and a slight blush from Dusty. It may have been my imagination, but I think I saw a couple of bumps form on the front of her tight tank top. Mick, friends only. Co-worker trip. Think about baseball, Grandma, Holly’s kitchen knife set…
“Anyway, Earl, have you ever tested your computer security?”
“Uh, no? Should we?”
“Well, the main reason I am at the plant is to look at the security around X-400. If the algorithms and inputs for the production runs are entered into the computer, how safe is that information? Could it be hacked?”
Hmmm. I’d never thought of that either.
“I don’t know.”
“Earl, we should probably check that out. How do we do that, Dusty?”
“First, we need to get someone proficient in hacking. I might be able to hire a local IT guy.”
“No need,” Jen suggested. “My fifteen year old nephew has a friend that is great at that stuff. We had to do an intervention with him and threaten to take away his access before he tried to launch the nukes or find out the Colonel’s secret recipe.”
“You think he’d be willing to come in and sit with Earl and Dusty next week to try some legal hacking into our system?”
“Are you kidding? He’d love it.”
The rest of the weekend was a blast. When Earl and I get together, the good times do roll. We hiked, fished, joked, barbequed, swam and had the kind of fun good friends do. I behaved. Mostly.
I will admit that I had to wait in the lake about twenty minutes before I could get out after we all did some splashing around. While Dusty did not wear a bikini, her one piece hit all the right notes and caused little Mick to start singing along. I had to give him time to pipe down before coming ashore so my thoughts would not be as obvious as the nose on my face. Well, not exactly my nose on my face, but you get the idea.
I did manage to get dried off and get to the cabin with my dignity intact. It was a beautiful star filled Saturday night. We grilled the trout we had caught, popped open a few bottles of Ghost Pines Chardonnay and kicked back around a rousing fire. Earl and Jen headed off to bed leaving a very mellow Dusty all to me. She had a shawl pulled around her bare shoulders and her blonde hair was gently riding the breeze. Oh, man.
“Ah, Mick, this is so nice.”
“Yeah, it’ll do.”
“You are so, funny. You know, I’ve only been here a few weeks, but it feels like I’ve known you for years.”
“Hmm. You are pretty easy to know too. But I don't know much about you other than what was on your resume.”
“Yeah. I guess there really isn’t that much to know. I am a small town girl from a happy down to earth family. We were pretty poor growing up but we didn’t know it. I was an only child but never lonely. Our house was always filled with songs and love. I don’t mean to sound immodest, but I have known from a very young age that I was blessed with nice features that males seem to find attractive. I’m not going to pretend that I hate the way I look or that it has been a big burden to me. I’m not ashamed to admit that I have used it to my advantage on occasion. But, I wanted to be more. I did not want to make my way in life based solely on my looks. It drove me to prove that I could compete mentally as well as physically with my peers. I threw myself into my studies and tried to excel all the way through grad school. I think I have a good start to a good career. But, I haven’t left enough time for weekends like this. I’ve left some potentially good relationships behind in pursuit of what I’ve achieved. Maybe it’s time that changed. What about you, Mick?”
I gave her the rundown of my upbringing including following Cindy to Asheville and growing to manhood in the plant. Except for the good looks part, it didn’t sound like we were all that dissimilar.
Dusty moved closer to me. She leaned in, lifted her face towards mine gazing hungrily with a “do me now you crazy fool” look. “What about your current status? Anyone special?”
There are defining moments everyone reaches in life. I think I had just stumbled into one. There was this delicious fruit sitting directly in front of me perfectly ripe fo
r the plucking. Hell, no plucking was needed. It was being served up on a silver platter. As my mind was scrolling through the bullet list of available options:
Do what comes naturally right here under the stars in front of the dying embers?
Take her down to the boathouse for some rocking on the high seas?
Invite her to my room to see what could be finer than to be in Carolina?
I heard these words spill from my mouth, “Yeah, I do. Her name is Holly and we have been seeing each other for several years. Sometimes I think it’s serious. At others…”
“If you are bringing her up at this particular moment, Mick, it’s serious. Mmm. Most all of the good men are taken. And, Mick, you’re a good man. See you bright and early in the morning.”
She got up and headed back to her cabin. I sat staring into the fire trying to convince myself that I had just done something stupid. But, somewhere deep within, I knew I hadn’t. In fact, I felt rather proud of myself.
MBA - Moron$ Ba$ and A$$ Page 41
