Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

2

 You know it when you see it. You own it when there's nobody else to pawn it off on.

You all know what I'm talking about.

***

I hadn't seen Selby Shand in over a decade. When I saw him, he was unrecognizable. I mean, the man looked ageless.

There I stood in my baggie Hawaiian shirt, overweight, balding, and wearing thick glasses that kept sliding down my nose. Talk about a walking billboard for a grease pit. My pores were secreting more juice than plums in a prune factory.

I was a mess.

And Selby walked outta the airport looking like the poster boy for GQ.

I began begging the earth to open up, swallow me whole, and put me out of my misery, but as usual, the gods were deaf to my silent, desperate cries.

Selby, for his part, acted as if I was a long lost rich relation. I'm telling you, if there ever was an award for the Best Lead Actor in the role of a prince embracing a leper, Selby was a shoo-in.

Selby's rented limo was waiting for us. I secretly hoped he'd pop that enormous trunk, and let me crawl into it. But no go.

Selby and his driver smiled. Selby held out his hand and signaled I was to get in first. Naturally, the toe of my shoe hung on the lip of the bottom of the door, and I managed an ungraceful belly flop onto the back seat.

Lucky for me, the leather on that back bench was as soft as a baby's behind. No rope burns on my sensitive lily-white skin. Score one for the anemic-looking couch potato.

What on earth was I doing here? More importantly, why had I ever let my mother convince me that meeting Selby was the best thing since sprinkles and waffle cones were invented for soft-serve ice cream​?

Selby did not seem to note my discomfort and was chatting away like an old biddie at the beauty parlor. This was good for me, I guess, as I only had to nod every once in a while and chuckle at all the right places.

We'd only driven a few miles when it happened.