John Saw It Coming

It was a sports bar in the parking lot of the hotel. It was usually pretty loud, but even on a Saturday night there was only a smattering of people standing, watching the game on the big screens scattered around the room.

He looked around for the waiter to settle his bill, getting ready to leave. He did want to see those eyes one more time in person, but 45 minutes late, she knew his phone number, no call. That's disrespect in his book. Maybe it was another indication of the chasm between his life and hers.

The waiter was approaching his table and came to a dead stop. The look on his face caused John to look where he was looking. She was at the door looking for him. Again, the eyes, even from across the room they gave him a chill. TV didn't do them justice, they were stunning. Long flowing blonde hair, a semi-formal sundress, she was slim, toned and stunning. John had a brief thought that his mind was overusing the word but it fit. John's heart skipped a beat and he smiled when he saw the very large young man standing behind her.

She finally found him in the crowd and rushed over to his table.

"John! I'm so sorry, I couldn't get out of the City. Traffic was horrible and I was afraid of calling, I was afraid you would cancel..."

"Ms. Martin, it's nice to see you again." Her eyes were a light blue, and when he looked closely they were ringed by a band of darker blue. There were small specks of gold and the whites of her eyes were perfectly white. She had high cheeks, and her skin appeared smooth without blemishes and teeth that were as white as high grade paper, all perfectly in a row except for the one eye tooth that stuck out just a tad, as if placed there by god to give something to compare the perfectness of the others by. It was perfect in its imperfection. Her brow was furrowed and there were just the beginnings of some wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. John wanted to find some flaw, but just couldn't. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had a strong jaw line and a button nose.

Her neck was regal, thin but strong, her skin smooth, he didn't dare look lower. He looked back up at her eyes, but they were the ultimate in captivating so he looked down at the table as she pulled her chair in. He mentally chastised himself for not helping her with her chair. Her hand gripped the table with her long tapered fingers as she pulled her chair in, well manicured nails. He had a thing for hands. Still no flaw.

"Ok John, let's jump right into this... Why does it bother you so much when I try to thank you, why wouldn't you let me come see you?"

John was rarely tongue tied but this seemed to be the case. "Ms. Martin..." Her eyes spoke volumes as they widened, then narrowed in either anger or frustration. Didn't matter as the message got across. "Sorry, Angela, don't you see there are several things going on here, all of which make me look more like an ass than I normally do."

"I don't understand. Please... explain it to me."

"Ok, here goes. I'm just a guy, minding my own business, I see something wrong, and instead of being able to handle it, I pull the fire alarm and then knock you over running away. I don't see where I did anything heroic at all. I'm an idiot, I got blown up and hurt you in the process. If I'd grabbed you or pushed you around the corner, then maybe... but I was running. If you haven't noticed all the damage was in my back. I was running... like a coward." He was opening up more than he had to anyone in the past and couldn't understand it. It scared him, saddened him.

"John, that's bullshit! If you were a coward, you wouldn't have pulled the fire alarm, you would have just run. And if you weren't running I would be dead, or would've lost a leg." He looked down at the table. "John look at me. I appreciate the fact that you wanted to do something else. There wasn't time. How long did you think about it? Seconds? Less than that?"

"I don't know, it wasn't long." He looked up at those eyes and had to look away. He could get lost in those eyes. They were intelligent, caring eyes. He fell in love with the personality that came out of those in that instant. He had always thought that eyes were the window to the soul and felt he had seen her soul. The kindness, the concern, understanding, were all on display in that brief moment when their eyes had locked. His heart skipped a beat and he briefly wondered if it was attraction or fear.

"And you did the only thing that could be done in that instant. I would say thank you but I'm afraid if I do you'd get up and walk out of here."

"Ms. Martin, uh... Angela," he smiled. "What do you want? I'm not being a dick but I just... I don't understand what you want from me. I accept your thanks, I really do and I appreciate being able to see it from your eyes, but it wasn't a big deal. Really."

"John, there's something deeper here, what is it?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Happened a long time ago. I didn't do much then either, I wish I could've done more. I've dreamt about it over and over again. Doesn't matter what I dream the outcome is the same. Can we just drop that subject?"

She reached out for his hand wanting so badly to put her arms around this man. He was gruff but she could tell there was a kind soul behind his gruffness, there was a sadness to him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. What did she want? She wanted to stare into his beautiful brown eyes, with flecks of green, the eyes that had dominated her dreams since that day for the rest of her life.

"Maybe I just want to be your friend John."

"That's rich..." he laughed for the first time. His smile was a little lopsided, kind of boyish, as he sat back he pulled his hand from hers and she felt a loss.

"You're this ultra-successful actress that everyone wants and you want to be my friend? Why?"

"Because John, I... I don't know how to express it. I feel we have a connection. You are the heroic white knight and I'm the damsel in distress."

He smiled again and she felt it inside. "You read too many romance novels."

She leaned back and said "I do! I really do!" when she laughed his heart stopped. It was melodic and she laughed with her eyes. The laugh was a belly laugh and he just wanted to make her laugh again and again.

Her eyes turned serious again. "John, I don't have many friends." His eyebrows rose in doubt. "Really, I don't. I can never tell when someone likes me for me or for some song I played, or if they..." her breath hitched, "Or if they just want something from me. I've tried to give you things and you refused, yes, I heard about the old lady that got a free first class upgrade to Baltimore. So, I know you don't want anything material from me. You keep trying to get rid of me, you're obviously not in love with my public persona. The magazines never get it right by the way I'm not nearly as wild as they make me out to be. You look away every time I catch you looking at me which, with most men, usually means you're at least partially attracted to me or find me hideous. You blush when you look away so I'm guessing you're at least partially attracted to me. Can't we be friends? Please?"

"Angela, I don't use that word, "friends" lightly. I don't have many friends since the wife and I broke up. They say that teaches you who your real friends are, and apparently I didn't have many."

"You're divorced?"

"Another painful subject I don't want to talk about. Yes, I am."

"Girlfriend?"

"Not at the present."

"John, lighten up, please!"

"Why Angela, why are you doing this? I'm just an average guy, small business owner, I work every day. You are a worldwide personality. I just don't understand what your interest in me is. I'm sorry, things like this, like you... just don't happen to guys like me."

"John, I researched you, military service, with medals, one a purple heart, I want to hear about that one, and a silver star from the same time. You came back and after a stay at Walter Reed, you got out and started a business. Environmental, not sure what that means. Married and divorced, highly regarded in your industry. Not just an average Joe. But, and I'm telling you my secret that I haven't told anyone yet, you have these brown eyes that I see in my dreams. They are deep, they look into my soul every night. I think about them when I make decisions, what would they expect from me? What do I want them to see?"

John sat back and looked at her with wide eyes. She laughed nervously.

"It's true John... I needed to see your eyes again. They are much more beautiful than I even thought they were. I can't stand the thought of never seeing them again."

"I... uh, I see yours too. I mean in my dreams, when I lay down at night. The blue... never seen that color before." It came out of him in a rush, unbidden, like vomiting words.

"So what do we do John?"

"Angela, I'm just a normal guy. Nothing special. I don't know how we make your side of the tracks meet mine. You flit from here to there constantly, I go to work every day. I have a business, employees I worry about. Projects, investments and time in people, equipment. I'm staying in a shitty overpriced hotel, because I don't want to drive home tonight and have to drive back tomorrow afternoon so I can be at work on Monday. Where are you on Monday?"

"I'm between projects. I'll probably be in my apartment. Can I meet you at your job site tomorrow? Can you show me what you do?" She looked at him deeply with those ice blue eyes, both felt the connection.

John laughed. "That's not fair and you know it. Don't use your eyes as a weapon on me..."

"I want to learn about you John. I want to spend some time with you. We can make it work John, if we both want it to work."

"Just friends right? No emotional attachment?" He already knew he'd lost this battle. He was already hopelessly in love with her. A love he fully expected to be unrequited.

"I can only try John. No promises, no lies."

"Deal."

Her hand was small but firm in his grip, cool but not cold, dwarfed by his as they shook on it. They chatted, ate a meal, she listened more than talked. John was not quite self-deprecating but he wasn't arrogant either. She figured his role in the stories he told her of being on the road, were understated. He had her laughing for most of the meal.

At the end of the meal she didn't want to leave. She found him fascinating, genuine and open to a fault. She had not felt that way about a guy since high school. The society she worked with all wanted something, to rise into fame on her coattails, to agree to the next deal, to get her to buy into one venture or another. She had become guarded, some thought cold, but it was self-protection. In her cloud of self protection she had become lonely and longed for a connection, someone she could share with openly. Someone she could love without reservations. She appeared to be this ultra-confident brilliant business woman, but only she knew the real truth.

This guy was ruggedly handsome, obviously spent time outdoors, his off the rack clothes fit as if they were custom tailored, but he was so genuine, down to earth. The respect that he talked about was not window dressing, but he warmed up as the conversation continued. His smile gave her goosebumps, changed her heart rate and she wanted to reach out and hold his hand. So she did and smiled as the blush crept up his neck.

He gave her directions to the job site, knowing no-one would be there tomorrow, and she finally walked toward the door. Her young mountain man rose and followed closely behind ignoring the stare of the other patrons. He leaned over to John and said quietly, "thank you for taking care of her when I couldn't."

"I really didn't do anything but knock her over and trip over her." Mountain man laughed and John smiled in return.

"Yeah, it certainly looks like you knocked her over..."

"You can drive that thing?" She asked pointing at the Caterpillar D6 dozer.

"Of course. It's not that hard." He told her.

"But it's Huge!"

"Come on, I'll show you. It's really not that big." He held her hand as she crawled up the tracks and into the cab. She jumped when he turned the key and the big diesel engine started with a roar, black smoke blowing from the exhaust pipe in front of them, settling down into a dull roar.

"There's only one seat."

He sat down, patted his thighs and told her to sit. "I'll deal with the pedals. To go forward you twist that handle forward, twist it backwards to go back, to lower the blade you push this this way, to raise the blade you pull back that way. Moving the blade sideways at an angle is that button and to lower the one side of the blade pull it towards you. The throttle works backwards, you push it in to slow down and let up on it to go faster.

The thing you have to remember is that you have to anticipate where the blade is going to be. You have to feel the center of balance, which is a little forward of the cab here and when it starts to lean forward pull the blade up. If not you dig what we refer to as swimming pools, ruts that will catch water. Here, let me clear a spot so we're level and then you can push some dirt."

He spun the dozer and while she watched his hands he moved the blade with tiny little adjustments in and out, backwards and forwards. He flattened an area about 40 feet longer than the dozer. "Ok" he said over the roar of the engine. You control the blade."

"Oh!" she jumped a bit as she twisted the direction handle and the dozer started to move forward. She tried to lower the blade and was afraid of it. John laughed.

"It helps if the blade actually touches the dirt. Push that handle forward to make the blade come down. Just rest it against the top of the dirt, you can just tap the handle as we move to dig a little deeper."

"But what if I fuck it up?" He smiled and knew she was nervous. First time he heard her cuss.

"I'll fix it when we're done. Don't worry."

The dozer started move again, the engine in a steady roar. The blade came down too deep and dug a pit and as she lifted the blade the dozer rocked forward, then back on the far side of the trench she had dug.

"Oh! Shit... This is harder than it looks."

"It's not that hard to learn the basics. It's the finesse touch that is hard. Some guys work for 30 years and never learn finesse."

"Can you fix what I just did please?"

"Sure!"

She watched Johns' hand float over the controls, his feet controlling the pedals as he spun the mammoth machine and spread a small layer of new soil into the hole she had dug. His touch was light, gentle, which is not a word she would've used until she watched him control the raw power of the machine. Over the next 30 minutes or so she learned the touch, not to force the machine but to coerce it into doing what she wanted it to.

When they crawled off the Dozer she danced on the dirt, running to the edges of the disturbed soil and laughing. "I did it! Look it's smooth, and flat, not swimming holes..."

John laughed at her excitement. "Swimming pools, but holes works I guess."

"John this is awesome! I will never look at another dozer and not think of today. Thank you!" She ran up to him and hugged him. She was so tiny in his arms. 'I could get used to this' he thought. He untangled himself, climbed up and locked the dozer and walked slowly to where his pickup was parked.

"I wish we could spend more time together Angela, but it's time for me to head south. Gotta get home, I'm in the office tomorrow."

"John, I wish we could spend more time together. This was so much fun, and um... I like you!" John looked at her in surprise. "There I said it, I really do like you. I'll never get enough of your eyes."

"Angela, we've already talked about it. My side of the tracks is so different than your side of the tracks. Plus, I have to get back to work, I have a business to run." Just the thought of what he was saying hurt. He so wished things were different. He knew going forward, if he ever saw her again, his life would be different.

"John, you showed me what you do, I'm starting a project in a couple weeks. Can I show you what I do? I mean I know it's just singing..." She smiled sarcastically, "but it can be fun to watch I think."

"Call me and we can talk about it." John just wanted to drag out the illusion, the hope or promise of something more than just friendship. "You have my number... or at least Janice does." They both laughed.

Angela was in deep thought as she drove through the tunnel into the City. She had never met anyone like John, never considered anyone like John before. He was a construction guy, they were like pictures on the wall, nice to look at from time to time but nothing to interact with. But this guy had captured her heart in just a moment, a flash. She considered how he would do in her world with the sharks and the vultures floating around constantly, always looking for an advantage, looking for a way to get more.

His honesty, his openness would be seen as a weakness to be taken advantage of. But at the same time he had a stoutness to him that she could not see being taken advantage of. She didn't know how it would turn out but she knew she had to see him again. She had to get him into her world to find out. She had never felt this way before and it was at once both frightening and exhilarating to be so vulnerable. She felt so alive for the first time in a very long time.

As she walked in the door to her apartment she picked up her guitar with excitement for the first time in a very long time. She grabbed a pad of paper, a pencil behind her ear and she started to strum.

John walked into his house that evening and found a mess. Someone had broken in and his furniture was upended, papers and books strewn around the room. His Springfield was gone from the desk but his gun safe in the basement was undisturbed. He made two calls, 911 and while he was waiting he reached out to Detective Bartle in LA to let him know what happened.

"Hey Detective Bartle, this is John Murphy."

"Hey John! Our favorite hero!"

"I'm not a fucking hero detective!

"I know that, you know that, but no-one else does. You can call me Bob by the way." Bartle was laughing and John knew it would be that way from this point forward.

"I know it's been a while, but my house got broken into. I have film of it, I keep the cameras going while I'm away."

"Could you see anyone well enough to identify?"

"I have a pretty good shot of the guy with the scar. He had the same hoodie on but I could see the scar. You could see a nose here and chin there but nothing to identify. There were four of them."

"Can you send me a screen capture from the video? I'd like to get it to the FBI and see if we can get some facial recognition."

"These fuckers, if they just left me alone they would've gotten away with it. Not sure what to do."

"John you need to lay low and cover your tracks. Keep moving, no schedules, nothing the same twice, take different routes to work, stay at hotels for a couple of weeks. Let us catch these guys. It's obvious they know who you are and where you go. Take nothing for granted don't trust anyone."

"Fuck, what do I tell the local cops, I called 911 and they're on the way. Shit, I hear the siren."

"Make a copy of the surveillance video before you let them take it. Then send it to me, then disappear for a while, let me do my job."

"Got it, I'll be in touch."

"John, remember they can probably track you by your cell phone. You need a new one, make sure you forward your number to me."

"Got it. We'll talk soon."

After the locals left John took out his cell phone and wrote down the most important numbers. That done he turned the phone off, smashed it a couple times and left it in the mess, packed a bag, grabbed his AR and couple of his hand guns, dropped them in a duffle bag, pulled the door closed behind him and left. He was used to hotels but never looked forward to staying in them.