Reggie, pt. 2

Damn blogger, randomly erasing posts. Okay, anyway, here is part two of 'Reggie.' I struggled while writing this part, and I don't think it's as well-written as the first part. But hey, it is a rough draft. And I just wanted to write and post something to both keep it fresh and not keep you guys and gals waiting too long.

Also, thanks for the nice comments about part 1. If you haven't read part one, scroll down a few posts and catch up.

And now for your reading and critiquing pleasure, part two of Reggie:

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Reggie laughed, softening a little. Trina was a tad irritating, but he had to smile because she was persistent. She seemed genuinely interested in his story.

He sighed loudly and decided to tell her just what happened.

“I make suitcases. That’s my real job. It’s what my father did, and it’s what I’ve done ever since I was old enough to operate the machines. A couple years ago, I started seeing this woman around – a beautiful woman. Her name was Rebecca. I did everything I could to get her attention but it never worked. She didn’t seem to have an interest in the suitcase-making world. Then one afternoon I met someone who knew her and told me that she had a thing for guys who did HVAC installations – you know, heating ventilation and air conditioning.”

Trina nodded. Reggie noticed that she looked very intrigued by his story. His eyes drifted back toward the pond.

“Anyway, I had to know her, I had to know more about her. So I did it. One day I pulled out this old work shirt I’d taken from my old roommate Al – who was a mechanic – and put it on. I actually got up that morning and said, ‘today I start a new life, I am also Al, the HVAC guy.”

“Did you actually know anything about HVAC?” asked Trina, who had by now leaned in more due to her interest in the story. She was absently twirling her long, dark hair with one finger.

“No, no way,” laughed Reggie, looking at Trina again. “The closest I’d ever come to HVAC stuff was the one time at the suitcase factory when I got stuck in a vent while trying to retrieve a suitcase roller wheel that had deflected in there when a machine jammed.”

Trina laughed and clapped her hands together. “Oh my god, I’ve totally gotten stuck in a vent before, too, -- Except I was trying to find a fake nail that had flipped in there when I slapped my sister during a fight.”

Reggie laughed, too, “Oh, when you two were kids, that’s funny.”

“No, this was actually last week. But please, go on.”

He stopped laughing and looked at her. She smiled him again, her eyes blank for a moment. After a moment Reggie shook his head and looked back at the pond. The parents of the swan invasion family were now in a heated argument.

“Okay,” Reggie began again. “Um, yes. I wore my shirt out that day and stopped by the coffee shop where I always saw Rebecca. It was right across from my job. I remember walking in there confidently with my ‘Al’ shirt and some dirty jeans and boots. She was standing by the front desk – god, she looked so beautiful that day. I remember exactly what she was wearing: a green skirt and a shirt with little flowers on it.” Reggie paused and smiled for a moment.

“I walked up to the counter,” he continued, “and said to no one in particular, ‘boy, today will be a tough day in the HVAC business, I have so many appointments that will keep me busy for hours.’”

“That’s hot,” Trina said. Reggie looked at her again. She was smiling, and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not.

“Right, so,” he paused to get back on track. Reggie’s eyes grew nostalgic. “As soon as I said that, she looked up from her triple mocha latte half-caff and our eyes met – it was pretty awesome. There was a spark. And we struck up a conversation, and hit it off from there.”

Reggie smiled, watching a pair of ducks swim together. Trina watched the ducks for a moment as well, but wanted to know more.

“Did you have to read books on HVAC to really know how to do it, you know, to be convincing when she asked you about it?” she asked, looking back at Reggie.

“I read a few.”

“And what exactly wowed her about HVAC guys?”

“The fact that our complex job could be turned into a simple acronym,” Reggie replied, turning to face Trina once again. She stifled a giggle.

“I’m serious. She was fascinated and enchanted by abbreviations. Before me, she had dated an FBI guy, a SWAT guy, a PR guy, and a former GI.”

“The doctor?”

“No, the type of soldier – but apparently she broke up with him because she got him confused one time with this new crush she had on a GI doctor.”

“BS!”

“Nope, doctors get an MD.”

The conversation paused for another moment. The swan-attacked child, now unattended to by his arguing parents, wandered back toward the pond.

“So,” Trina continued, still intrigued, “how long did you keep the HVAC front going?”
“It was two years of me constantly inventing new HVAC-related acronyms to keep her interested. I loved her so much, but she was so easily distracted. So my obsession with all things fake-HVAC eventually wore on my real job. I was distracted at work, and very tired. My performance suffered.”

To be continued...