It took him over an hour to get ready; he wanted to look just perfect, which left him with another hour to wait. He decided to go to the cinemas early and wait inside. There was a small café where he sat drinking a bottle of Coke, fidgeting in his seat and worrying whether or not the night would be half-decent or whether she’d be interested in doing it again.
“You’re being stupid,” he told himself. It hadn’t even begun yet and he was being stupid.
He watched the time go by on his watch by two-minute jumps, panicking as each second passed. Would she like him? Would he make a complete fool of himself?
He wanted to slap himself for a couple of reasons. One for being such an idiot, and the other to freshen himself up. He was getting stagnant sitting in the chair moping over the plastic bottle. He decided he needed to take his mind of things and started to contemplate the bottle itself. He began to write a mental essay on the curvature of the bottle, debating whether it was symbolic of a female’s body shape or just stylised for the 1960’s. He recalled the old glass bottles. It was probably the worst move in history for both milk and Coke to go from glass to plastic. Sort of like money. Every time something went from one form to plastic, it ended up being a dredge on society. Like credit cards. How many people were now deeply in debt because they didn’t really think about the need to repay everything you spend on those tiny little cards. How many people had overdrawn their limit or extended it to buy that one extra item and discovered they couldn’t really afford it. In Russell’s opinion people would be better off saving their money and using the real thing instead of plastic, guaranteeing they could definitely afford it because they would already have paid for it.
He looked at his watch again. Five minutes to go. Finally!
He quickly got up and headed outside, hoping she wasn’t early. She wasn’t. The night was slightly chilly, and Russell knew he shouldn’t do it, but he conjured up a small amount of romantic magic by persuading the warmer air to come down from on high and stick around for a while.
Even though it took the nip out of the air, he couldn’t help rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He knew he looked like a fool, as if he were about to receive the biggest cash donation in the world. He liked to think of it as being on par to that. Kristen was definitely worth a billion dollars. She was sweet, funny, kind, everything anyone could ever want to be and she was…heading this way. He nearly baulked at the sight of her. It wasn’t that she had dressed up for the occasion, but she still looked wonderful. That was the good thing about working at Greyson’s. The uniform was semi-casual, semi-formal and most people tried to look their best, and boy did she look good.
She started; “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Pause.
She started again; “Shall we decide on a movie first?”
“Sure. Is there anything you’d like to see?”
She smiled. He wasn’t sure if she found him amusing, or if she was patronising him or what. He couldn’t read her. Most people Russell thought he could, but Kristen, she was like an enigma.
“Let’s go look,” they walked inside and dodged through a small crowd. Being a Monday night, most people weren’t out at the movies. A work and school night meant there would be less of a raucous crowd to put up with. They surveyed the time board above the cashiers. There were a number of movies on. Romance, drama, action, the latest drug fest, a great range, none of which Russell had seen.
“Anything you like the look of,” he asked.
“A couple,” she seemed lost in the options, “I wouldn’t mind seeing Halt. Or that new one, Hippy.”
There had been a spurt of single word movies lately. Russell wasn’t sure if it was lack of imagination or just a trend. The first of her options was one of the latest drug related, fast paced movies in the tradition of ‘Go’. Even the title was related. The second was an adaptation of a book. So far it had done reasonably well at the box-office, but nothing spectacular. Russell hadn’t heard much about it.
“I don’t really mind. I’ve told you before I’m not that good at making decisions,” and now it sounded to Russell that he was practically saying he was a dim witted fool.
She dug into a pocket, “We’ll flip for it then. What do you say? Heads for Halt, tails for Hippy?”
“Sounds good to me.”
She flipped the coin and Russell made a mental note. This was a damn good way to make a reasonably simple and inconsequential decision. It was kind of cool as well. Trendy. But that was Kristen. Trendy.
She grabbed the coin in mid air and flipped it onto the backside of her wrist. She looked up at Russell and grinned. He could almost imagine a wink. But she moved her hand away and declared the winner, “Halt it is!”
“Okay. Well that starts in forty-five minutes. How about we grab something to eat first?”
“Sure. What would you like?”
She did that on purpose. Torture? Poking fun? Why were there always choices to make?
But he had an answer for this one, “Let’s go to the Carillon,” pronounced 'Carillion', “We can decide what we want from there.”
The Carillon was one of the most reputable food halls in Perth. It had been around for years and everyone still went there. There was such a huge variety of food from Italian to Chinese. From Health Food to Junk Food. Hungry Jacks, Red Rooster, Wendy’s Ice Cream to Aroma Café. A huge variety of everything.
The ‘couple’ walked around the Carillon’s extremities, eyeing the range of food, some of the owners and workers shouting lines at them such as ‘What would you like?’ ‘Can I help you?’ ‘Yes, Sir?’ even when they weren’t showing any interest. It came across as almost desperate.
Finally Kristen stopped in front of one of the Chinese stores and began to order. Strangely, and perhaps coincidentally, Russell had decided on the same thing. He had had Chinese from here before and found it well worth the money paid, both in quality and quantity. They literally heaped the plates high with a great range of wonderful tasting foods like noodles, rice and omelettes.
Russell was about to fork over money to pay for Kristen’s meal, hoping to be chivalrous, but she beat him to it. Sheepishly, he waited for her to collect her plate before ordering for himself.
Maybe she was just independent. Maybe she would have thought he was being sexist. Maybe it wasn’t the kind of thing you did on a first date. Then again, maybe this wasn’t a date. He nearly kicked himself. Of course it was. Dinner, movie. It had to be.
They moved, along with their plates, to the back end of the Food hall. It wasn’t busy. There were less than fifteen people sitting down, including Russell and Kristen, so it was to be a quiet meal.
As they ate, they started talking. From talk about dreams and aspirations to what their parents did for a living. Kristen wanted to study photography, Russell thought that was ironic with the number of journalists he’d run into, not to mention his own interest. But she’s always working which made that kind of step too complicated, at least for the time being. One day she hoped to work for a magazine. Russell spoke of how he had wanted to become a journalist, until he realised what sneaky, conniving and pushy people they actually were. He also explained how he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, maybe delving in psychology, though he had no formal background and it would be more like a hobby than anything else. Then Kristen explained how her mother was a psychiatric nurse. Her father was a relatively successful businessman, but she didn’t know exactly what he did. He was hardly ever home so they tried to speak more of interesting things and forget about work.
“What are you doing for Australia Day?”
The question came after the conversation had lagged a bit. She spooned another load of food into her mouth and looked at him expectantly.
Australia Day, he thought to himself. That was… He checked his mental calendar. Two days away. Wednesday.
“Nothing. How about you?”
Australia Day was a mediocre public holiday. Nowhere near the intensity of Thanksgivin
g or Independence Day. Most people took it as a day to lounge about. There were a few celebratory functions, such as the night fireworks with an aerial display, the Aus. Day Concert at one of the bigger theatres in Perth and some families still felt the desire to celebrate with a good old Aussie Barbecue. To be honest, Russell didn’t think much about it. He’d never had pride for the way the government in Australia works, and he wasn’t too happy with the way the Eastern States believed themselves to be the superior end of the continent whilst those living in the West were backward and inconsequential. But if it were West Australia Day, Russell would have been up there with the flags and banners with the rest of them. The state and the city of Perth itself had to work hard to develop as well and as quickly as it had. To be considered the largest city in the world, though still not the capital of Australia, was quite an achievement, especially against the ever present New York, Tokyo and the other runners up.
“Dad wants me and mum to spend the day together over in Rottnest. Sounds nice, but not exactly my idea of fun.”
Rottnest was a small island off Perth’s shoreline. A small holiday destination that hasn’t quite developed as well as Perth, mainly due to the Historical Society and the Conservationists trying to protect the war memorials and the Quokkas, small marsupials similar to Kangaroos native to and found only on Rottnest Island. Some holidaymakers liked to play a game termed “Quokka Soccer” which was very much frowned upon by anyone in their right mind.
“You’ll miss the fireworks.”
“No, someone told me you could see some of them from over on the island. Supposed to light up the night sky with hundreds of different colours.”
“Sounds like the same effect a nuclear bomb would have.”
“True. Still, it’s supposed to be nice.”
“Maybe you’ll have fun…?”
“Oh, Mum will make sure I don’t.”
In general, they talked about most things from philosophy to work to current affairs and movies.
When it came time to actually sit in the theatre, Russell was so nervous he was afraid to move for fear of bumping her or making her uncomfortable or stealing her armrest or anything. But, all the while, he wondered if he should try to hold her hand. Soppy? Sure. Romantic? Maybe. Successful? Nope.
Russell moved his elbow, ever so carefully, onto the dividing armrest. Her own elbow sat more to the front of the thin strip, but he managed to nudge her ‘accidentally’ ever so slightly. So she moved it further away.
The whole length of the movie left Russell wondering whether that was a good sign or not, or whether he was trying way too hard, or… so many possibilities ran through his head, he started to see those familiar, yet somewhat stagnant, silver strands. Was he focused that much on making this a good date, or making a good impression? Why did he have to try so hard anyway? Didn’t she like him for who he was without being over the top?
What if he was wasting his time?
The movie ended and Russell offered to walk her to her car. She accepted. They talked again, discussing the merits of the movie. Fortunately Russell had seen enough drug movies to get an idea what this one had been like, he added that knowledge to what little snippets he managed to let slip through his self involved thought streams and continued the conversation until he found a way out.
“But there is no way it could beat the classics.”
Kristen looked at him as they walked, “What classics?”
“You know. Never Ending Story. The Muppet Movie. Labyrinth. Dark Crystal. THE classics.”
She nodded, quite serious, “Let’s not forget Princess Bride.”
Russell almost slapped himself, “How could I forget. That show was brilliant! They don’t make them like that any more.”
“And that was so long ago, wasn’t it,” She jibed.
“Well, you know what I mean. But I did hear they intend to make a prequel to the Dark Crystal.”
“It had better be better than the sequels to Never Ending Story.”
“Totally. They couldn’t afford to screw that one up.”
They arrived at the lift that led up to her car. There was a pay station she had to insert her ticket in first and pay before collecting her vehicle. She slipped the ticket in and the sign flashed ‘five dollars’. Again Russell raced to his wallet, “I can pay if-”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She then called the lift.
They stood in silence for a moment. Him unsure what to say, what to do. Her, he had no idea about.
The doors opened and she stepped in.
“I’ll walk-”
“No. That’s fine. I’ll see you at work.”
“Okay. See you.”
The lift doors shut and with them so did any sense of ego Russell had left. He had only one thought running through his head.
“What the hell was that?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Russell moped all the way back to the ‘safe-house’. He took the long way round, nearly going home by mistake, so lost in his thoughts. He was so confused. He wasn’t sure why he let it affect him so much, but what exactly had the night been? Was it a date? Or was it merely a friendly night out?
Why were things so complicated? Even when he had his own life to worry about, he goes and lets romance interfere and make it worse. Maybe he should have just shut his mouth, never picked up the phone and let her forget he’d ever asked. Maybe she wished he had. But she had accepted to go out. So did that mean there was something there? Is there always a kiss on the first date? At least he’d spent time with her in the first place. Which was more than he had before, which was probably why he had been so careless when he walked into the car park, setting off that blasted bomb.
But that could have happened to anyone, whatever mood they were in. He was just being stupid now and he knew it.
Maybe it would be better if the bomb had done what it was supposed to and wiped him off the face of the planet.
He found himself sinking deeper into sour thoughts. Not quite suicidal, just borderline pathetic whining.
He used a key Stacey had given him and slammed the gate behind him. He could really do with a Custard tart from his old neighbours.
What he was about to find out was that his night could go from bad to worse. Though he wasn’t entirely sure why it had been bad in the first place, having had a good time and all.
He stepped into the lounge to find Pam and Stacey sitting, obviously waiting.
“What’s up?”
“We’ve done some research. First of all, we had to find out which floor to look up. That was simple, just finding out which window needed repairs and who filed the damage to the Structural Advisement Committee in charge of CP2,” Pam was being very efficient. The seriousness of her expression coinciding with the way her hair was tied tightly back gave her a strikingly severe look that had obviously caught Stacey's attention.
“The company that lodged the damage claim was one Peerson Corporation. CEO, one Trent Peerson.”
With that, Stacey tossed a sheet of paper and a photograph onto the coffee table where Russell picked it up. Although it was one of those atypical dark sunglasses, ‘trying to look inconspicuous’ photographs, it was fully recognisable as Deep Throat.
“That’s him. That’s Deep-”
Pam looked at him, quizzed as to why he had stopped speaking.
Russell tried to push a little more with his mind but, “Nope.”
“What is it?”
He dropped the photo back on the table, “I told you he was familiar. Like off the news or something. I nearly had it just then, but it slipped right through.”
“You have absolutely no idea?”
“Zip. Nada. Squat.”
“Not too helpful,” Pam said, “All the same, we know that his offices are located several floors above where you were and we have the means to get to them.”
“What are you saying?”
“They’re not going to fix a window on a sk
y scraper’s sixty-eighth floor in one day. Well, they could, but obviously they hired some shoddy contractors.”
“So…” he questioned without actually asking. Both Pam and Stacey knew what she was getting at but Russell only had an inkling and he didn’t like where it was going.
“So that’s where we make our entrance. You told Pam yourself that you can fly. Cool. She can use her own telekinesis on herself and on me, taking us both up there with you. From there we can nip into his office, have a steal around and find out what we can, hopefully picking up your wallet in the mean time.
“You say that so casually.”
Pam nodded, “He acts like an old pro at this sort of thing. Don’t worry. It’s sheer bravado.”
“Hey, no giving away trade secrets.”
“It’s not half obvious, Stace.”
“Yeah, but the kid didn’t know.”
Russell let himself fall back into one of the arm chairs, exhausted even though he’d been sitting in a food hall and a cinema for over two hours.
“Oh yeah, how’d the little date go?”
Pam’s eyes lit up, “Date? You didn’t tell me.”
“Nothing to tell. I’m not even sure if that was what it was.”
Stacey hung back, a little confused. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. Pam, however, pushed on, “What do you mean?”
“Well-” Russell went on to explain the evening. Both of his companions listened intently. Neither said a word until he’d finished his tale.
When he had finished there was a small silence as if they were waiting for him to finish. Exactly the way Russell felt when the doors closed on the elevator. Maybe he was just being selfish.
“Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
Russell didn’t want to be rude, but he ignored Stacey’s question, hoping Pam would give a more precise and helpful response.
And she merely shrugged, “You could read that in so many different ways. Maybe she’s not the touchy feely type.”
Russell nearly blushed. That wasn’t how he saw himself. But, all the same, neither response was all that helpful. What he needed was to change the subject.
“So, what are we going to do about this guy?”