For Frensi in
By
DocPaul
Chapter
One: Finding the Truth in Vertical
Lines
Mercantile.
By definition, the word ‘mercantile’ means ‘of or pertaining to merchants
or trade.’ So, by that very definition, the welcoming ring of the bell above
the door was the first part of business for a merchant. It was that blessed ring
that in some cultures could mean so many things. Obviously for a pagan, it had a
totally different connotation than the blessed meaning it has for other
religions. But, for a Merchant, it signaled the arrival or departure of a
customer.
So
when the hell did that nice quaint blessing become twisted and convoluted into
something reeking of ill manners, rudeness, and irritating insolence?
“What
the hell is this crap?” Michael Guerin, evil customer incarnate, the ringer
and bearer of not blessings, but rather curses, bellowed to the back room,
separated by a curtain of beads. “Yo! Hey! Customer here! Some
granola-crunching, ugly Birkenstock shoe-wearin’ hippy wannabe, want to make
Pita bread money? Assistance would be nice!”
Michael
looked around the small shop with a total lack of interest. This was a bad idea.
Obviously, since the workers were no doubt out back, smoking weed and snorting
the essential oils of the place. Note to
self, fire your damn secretary who sent you to this shop.
“Sorry,
I was in the middle of hot dipping wax.”
Michael’s
brow went up at the small delicate woman wearing a flimsy wraparound dress that
was formfitting and flattering. Taking his time, he ogled her body, spending a
bit of time on her legs which were bare and exposed. Okay, so normally he was a
breast man, but he was also known to appreciate a great pair of legs, especially
when attached to a voice that sounded like hers. A voice like that always came
with a nice set of legs.
“Hello?”
Maria frowned, looking at the man who moments before had been pacing frantically
around her shop, but now seemed mesmerized. Maybe he was having a seizure? He
had a sort of doltish half smile on his face, and his eyes were… She dipped
her head trying to follow where he was staring at to get his attention.
“Hello? Did you need assistance?” Was it a drop seizure? Nope. He was still
standing. “Sir?”
“Huh?”
Michael slowly followed her voice upward. Okay, so the breasts were small, much
smaller than he preferred. Actually, he was sort of tiring of the overblown boob
jobs that seemed to grace his world lately. All the women who ran in his circles
seemed to have shared the same plastic surgeon. Neck was lean and long with
wisps of golden hair making it appear even more delicate. The mouth. Pausing,
Michael stared at her mouth. Oh damn! Perfect! Large puffy lips, well
formed...the type of mouth that demanded attention. If it was natural and not
collagen based, he bet she had hated her mouth as a child. It took little boys a
long time to appreciate the parts of beauty that as a child appeared unnatural.
‘Fish Lips’ one day stops looking like someone to tease, and becomes
something to worship, pant over, and chase with obsession. God, he loved teenage
hormones!
The
woman stood there, uncertain what to do. The once bellowing loud customer seemed
lost in another world. Clearing her throat, she patiently waited,recounting in
her mind how the customer was always right.
Michael’s
eyes finally finished the journey to her eyes. Golden whiskey brown eyes met a
pair of green ones, alive and radiant. Her eyes were dark and deep, alive and
expressive. Green eyes. Beautiful.
“Hel-lo?”
Michael
shook himself back to reality. The concern in her voice and the dawning
apprehension in her eyes clued him in that he was staring. She was delicate and
fair. What the fuck was wrong with him? “Sorry, I was just stunned that
someone actually decided to serve me,” Michael inwardly cringed at his own
biting voice, hurling insults at her to cover up his momentary brain freeze.
Almost groaning aloud, he watched as her green eyes took on a new element.
Anger. He watched as she struggled to keep it under control, and instead met his
eyes with a chilly indifference as she plastered a cool smile on her face.
“Well,
I’m here now. What can I help you with?”
“About
time. I’m a busy man.” Michael knew he was being unfair. He had tried to
talk his secretary into doing this for him, but she refused. “My secretary
tells me that you have special candles and make gift baskets.”
“All
my candles are special. And I do make gift baskets.”
“Good.
That’s what I want.”
Maria
frowned at the man. “Alright, I can do that. Did you find a candle or candles
you wanted? Or did you need a few more moments?”
“Find
a candle? I thought you did that. Just give me a basket of stuff that will help
inspire calmness, reasonable thinking, and compliance.”
“Who
is this basket for, exactly?”
“My
fiancée. I need to give her some papers to sign before the wedding and I
thought it would be nice to…”
“Dress
it up into something more romantic?”
Michael
sneered at that. Romantic? He was marrying her, wasn’t he? He bought the damn
ring, paid for the wedding preparations and everything. What else was needed?
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Maria
looked at her customer in confusion. “You are getting married, right? This is
a real person….a woman that you’re marrying?”
“Do
I look gay?”
Maria
shrugged as she quickly scanned her inventory and pulled out few potential
candles. “I’m not sure what gay looks like, so I can’t say.” She smelt a
few of the candles. “These are nice. Some have a nice lavender and Chamomile
mixed with a more soothing cypress oil.” She held it out for him to sniff.
“Great.
That’s great. I want your magical ones that have calming effects. The calmer,
the better.”
“Magical?”
Maria said with a frown between her brows. “I can’t call anything I sell magical,
but certain essential oils have noted effects on people and their moods.”
Maria sighed at the misconception Michael seemed to be under. “There is no
Craft in my aromatic candles. Just all natural essential oils and scents.”
“Good.
That’s what I want.”
Maria
nodded, and searched the shelves for a few more smaller candles. “How much do
you want to spend? I can put in a few essential oils for burning that make the
house smell good. Many of these candles don’t need to be burned. They will
give off their scents to the room. I really like the rosemary and lavender
scent. Do you know what scent your fiancée enjoys?”
“Why
would I?”
Maria
rolled her eyes. “Very well. Just give me a price range, and maybe tell me a
little about what your fiancée likes to do, her personality, and perhaps try to
give me a good descriptive sentences or two of what you think of her.”
Michael
looked at his watch in irritation. “I’m marrying her. What is there to
really know?”
Maria
stopped in exasperation putting her hands on her hips. This had to be a joke. A
prank at the very least. “Okay. You do know this woman right?”
“I’m
marrying her.”
“So
you keep saying.” Maria gave up and quickly collected some items. Anything to
get him out of her store. Putting in special candles and essential oils that she
deemed ‘necessary’ for any woman destined to share a life with this man, it
was unfortunate she couldn’t add a card for a marriage counselor.
“How
long is this going to take?”
“Not
as long as I’m sure it took for you to get engaged.”
“What
does that mean?” Michael asked narrowing his eyes. “You don’t know
anything about my relationship with my fiancée.”
“Apparently
neither do you,” Maria said under her breath as she quickly made a nice
basket, and totaled up the materials and added her standard fee. “There you
go. Do you want me to place the papers in the basket, or would you like to add
them later?”
“No.
I’ve got them right here. I prefer them not to be the first thing she
finds.”
“Soooo,
a surprise!” Maria voice lifted, somehow relieved that perhaps this man’s
emotions weren’t as frozen as they appeared on the surface. “Perhaps the
honeymoon tickets? Or a special gift?”
“Prenuptial
agreement,” muttered Michael distractedly.
Maria
stopped as she was decorating the basket. “Excuse me?”
“What?”
He saw the horror on her face. “It’s standard procedure nowadays.”
“Oh,
Lord!”
“What?”
He didn’t like her tone. He wasn’t a freak. This was his usual procedure. No
way he was going to be left to the mercy of losing everything he owned in a
messy divorce. “Divorce is nasty nowadays. This makes things easier.”
Maria
slammed a few objects down hard on her counter, feeling for this poor mentally
challenged woman that somehow found herself engaged to this man.
“Did it occur to you that most people enter into marriage with the very idea
of ‘til death do us part’ as really something they believe in? They marry
with the intent of being together for the rest of their lives and not with the
goal of divorce?”
“Not
realizing it’s possible is unrealistic.”
“Preparing
for it is insulting!”
Michael
pushed his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “You selling me some of this mumbo
jumbo crap, or not? I don’t think I came here to get your opinion.”
“Of
course not. This is ready.”
Maria
turned the basket to him, showing him it from all sides. It was pretty, smelly,
and best of all, he couldn’t see the papers immediately. Looked like something
a chick would like. “Great. How much?”
Maria
quickly told him the price and ignored his shocked look at the amount. Great, he
was a cheapskate too. Looks could be deceiving. He didn’t look like a
reprehensible man.
“She
had better like this.”
Maria
took his credit card and quickly processed it. Anything to get him gone. “Sign
here,” she looked at his credit card. “Mr. Guerin. Could I please see
another form of ID to check the signature?” Michael showed her his driver’s
license.
Maria
watched him leave carrying the large basket, frowning at her ringing bell that
seemed to echo long after he left. Some women were so lucky. And some were not.
She snorted as she felt the soft brush of a cat against her ankle. “Jinxy,
what are you doing down here? C’mon. I’ll take you upstairs.”
~~~
“Kathleen,
what the hell did you get me into?” Michael shook his head at this
secretary’s clueless look. “That damn store,
Kathleen
smiled, imagining her boss in the very delicate candle store, with the hand
blown glass and artistic candles and smells. “So what did you think of
Maria?”
“Was
that her name?” Michael said, feigning disinterest. “She was very helpful
once she finally decided to come out of the back room. A little too opinionated
for a shop worker.”
“She’s
not the shop worker, Michael. She’s the owner. She does it all herself. I
think she has a few college students that help do unloading and restocking on
the weekends, but otherwise she does all the candles and glass blowing
herself.”
“Glass
blowing? I noticed some of that. She put one in the basket.” Michael handed it
over to Kathleen who made a pleased sound.
“God!
This is gorgeous. It’s a hand-blown candle holder.” Kathleen held it up to
the light, and Michael had to admit that it was very beautiful.
“Don’t
mess anything up in there. I’m giving it to….um,….”
“Daphne.”
“I
know her name!” Michael said with
irritation. “Anyway, confirm my dinner reservations at Chez Panisse.”
“You’re
taking her to
“Yeah,
I hate it, but Daphne loves it, or so she tells me.”
“Wow,
boss. You actually listened? I wouldn’t have credited you with that.”
Kathleen smacked her head. “Oops. Forgot this was the prenuptial agreement
date. Scratch that. You are unobservant and insensitive.”
“Thank
you kindly. Just do it.” Michael took his messages. “Call about my tuxedo
pick up. The wedding is this weekend, so have them deliver it.”
“Michael,
the wedding is in three days. Not this weekend, like it’s a million years
away. Three. Days.”
Michael
stopped and looked back at Kathleen. “Are you sure? That seems rather close.
Do I have any last minute crap, like family rehearsals and shit?”
“Daphne
was in this morning. She left you an itinerary.” Kathleen Topolsky was a
discreet woman. One that didn’t like too many intimate details, but she
couldn’t resist. “She made it sound like she hasn’t seen you in days.”
“She
hasn’t. Literally in weeks. Months even. Since I proposed, she took the ring,
and has been living at her parents’ house with girlfriends giggling and
planning the big event.”
“Too
bad,” said Kathleen said softly to herself.
“What’s
that?”
Kathleen
shrugged. “Well, before your engagement is over, it would’ve been nice if
you had a nice intimate sexual affair out of it. Sounds like she cut you off
until the wedding.”
“We
still sleep together. Or at least have sex. She just goes home afterwards.”
Michael frowned. That was the problem. Once he slept with a woman, he felt she
was in the bag. He proposed, and suddenly his bed was empty again. Disturbing
trend. “Doesn’t matter. Sex is overrated.”
Kathleen
shook her head as he went in his office. “Only if you’re doing something
wrong,” she said softly.
~~~
“Well,
Rockers, it’s been over a month and I’m still reeling from the news that Rob
Trujillo has joined Metallica. That
means Metallica is a full unit again!
Fighting strong, where the metal meets the meat!” Alex Whitman looked up from
his broadcast to his friend through the glass. Waving, he motioned for Michael
Guerin to join him in the recording booth. “You've all known that I’ve been
huge fan of Rob since the early '90s when he was part of the legendary Hardcore
Metal band, Suicidal Tendencies. I got
to know Rob when he played with Suicidal in
Alex quickly cranked up the music and flipped the switch so
he could talk to Michael. “Hey, man, what’s up? You know it’s after
“I
knew where to find you, didn’t I, Alex? Of course I know it’s after
Alex
searched his friend’s face. “Shit! Don’t tell me, it’s Prenuptial
Agreement Night!”
Michael
nodded and rubbed his face. “I even took her to her favorite restaurant in
“Uh
huh.” Alex held up his hand as he started another record letting the two meld
together. “You want to go get trashed?”
“The
Dubliner?”
“Yeah,
I can do Irish pub. I’ve got thirty-five more minutes.”
Michael
nodded and looked at his watch. “I’ll call Max and see if he wants to come,
since I missed my bachelor party.”
Alex
made a face at Max’s name, but nodded as he cued up his next selection.
“Sure. Call the uptight lawyer guy. You realize he’s probably safely tucked
in bed with his pants safe in the valet press.”
“Good.
He can dress down like the rest of us.” Michael left the room to listen to the
end of Alex’s show and make the call. He could hear the show over the speaker
in the breakroom.
“This
is Alex Whitman on KSAN 107.7, The Bone... Classical Rock that rocks! I know I
was going to do an all Rob Trujillo show tonight with some Suicidal Tendencies goodness and some Ozzy, but a special needs song
for my buddy, Michael who just watched his sixth…that’s right, girls...sixth
fiancée walk away. The man doesn’t have trouble with commitment, just follow
through. So I’ll entertain your comments for the next half an hour at
387-B-O-N-E. Here’s for you, buddy. Some Blue Oyster Cult…Don’t
Fear the Reaper.”
Michael
glared at Alex through the glass and flipped him a highly suggestive finger as
he connected to Max.
“The
Bone, you’re on the air….”
“Yeah,
man, your buddy, is he like repulsive or what?”
Alex
looked over at Michael, and smiled. “Depends on your perspective.” He
laughed as Michael made a face. “Next caller. The Bone, you’re on the
air….”
“I
think your friend must be a great guy. Most guys don’t even bother to propose,
and he stepped up to the plate six times. That takes guts. If he isn’t too
repulsive, I’d take his number. My punk-ass boyfriend hasn’t asked me
anything except to get him a beer in the last five years.”
Alex’s
eyebrow went up. “Well, that is a true tragedy. My man, Mike is six foot
three, lean goodness, financially set, with golden brown eyes, a bad attitude,
bad hair, and if it matters to you lovely ladies and possible gents…..he wears
a size twelve shoe and has huge hands!”
Michael
shook his head and buried his face in his hands where he sat. Alex Whitman was a
pig. Hated his scrawny ass. He was going to feed him six packs of bad beer and
set him up with something scary.
“The
Bone, you are on the air….”
“You
said he’s employed, right?”
“Yep,
the man owns his own company. A community leader.” Alex smiled at the violent
gestures that Michael was making for him to cut it out, occasionally stopping to
throw in a few obscene ones for good measure. “I’ve got his number!”
Alex
laughed at Michael and continued to play music dedicated to Michael’s dumped
ass, while taking marriage offers for him.
“You
are one mean bastard, Alex.”
“Hey,
payback, buddy. I had my last tuxedo fitting today, so you owe me big. This job
of being your best man is hard work, not to mention this being the sixth
bachelor party I’ve arranged for you. Now I need to cancel the party.”
“Why?
I can use a good stripper.”
“Fuck
that! You’ll probably sleep with her, and next thing I know, you’ll have
proposed and I’ll be having myself fitted for another damn tuxedo.”
Michael just rolled his eyes and made a rude comment on Alex’s parentage. “Let’s go find Max, so you can practice your Whitman wit on him.”